Over Her Dead Body(73)

“Brando, come!” I shouted, but he was like a horse running for the barn. He banked right, onto the steep cul-de-sac at the end of my block, so I turned on the jets and followed him around the corner.

Raindrops were blurring my vision as I combed the street for a glimpse of his furry backside. He must have ducked into someone’s yard, because he was nowhere to be seen. Just as I was about to backtrack toward home, Ashley pulled up beside me in her MINI Cooper.

“I know where he is,” she said. “Get in.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said as I climbed into the passenger seat. “I’ve never seen him do that—I didn’t think to be careful.”

“Don’t apologize,” Ashley said. “This was completely out of character; I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

We reached the end of the block, and Ashley turned into a rocky driveway enshrouded with trees and tangled brush. Loose gravel popped beneath our tires as we wound past stuffy old lampposts that dotted the perimeter like cast-iron sentries.

“Is this that casting director’s house?” I guessed. I remembered her describing it as “creepy,” and this certainly fit the bill.

“Yep.”

We rounded a gentle curve, and the house appeared like an apparition in the mist, all jagged edges and cartoonish turrets. I squinted through the fog, and there, to my great relief, was Brando, feasting on birdseed that had fallen from the bird feeder.

“I can’t believe he dragged us all the way here for a few crumbs of birdseed,” I muttered, not grasping that dogs sometimes just know things, like when someone is in trouble, or that death is in the air.

“Maybe I should start adding birdseed to his kibble,” Ashley joked as she pulled over and turned off the ignition.

I unclipped my seat belt. “I’ll get him.”

Cool rain was spitting down from the dull, gray sky as I stepped out onto the drive. I was so focused on Brando I almost didn’t see the man coming down the front porch stairs. I tried not to act jealous when I recognized him.

“Hey,” I said, with a little wave.

“Hey,” the man who stole Ashley’s heart said as our eyes met.

“Just going to collect the dog.” I pointed, and the man nodded. Nathan, I remembered. His name is Nathan. I didn’t know if I should hate him for stealing Ashley away from me or be grateful to him for saving me from a doomed marriage. Because of course people can’t be stolen. And wasn’t it better to find out she didn’t want to be my wife before walking down the aisle with her?

“Whatcha doin’?” I asked Brando as I bent over to scoop him up. He answered with a bark, and I shook a finger at him. “You scared us.”

I didn’t have a leash, so I carried him like a football back toward where Ashley was standing with her hookup. I tried to read their body language. His hands were jammed in his pockets, she was keeping her distance. But maybe that’s just because of me?

“I can take Brando home if you want to hang out,” I offered, because it seemed like the generous thing to do.

But before she could answer, I heard something that stopped me in my tracks: a muffled pop that sounded like a giant twig breaking. Brando’s ears perked up like he’d heard it, too.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“Hear what?” Ashley asked.

“That popping sound.”

Pop! Pop! Pop! There it was again. Like popcorn popping beneath our feet. Brando jumped out of my arms and started howling like a wolf.

I looked at Ashley. Her eyes bulged with terror. Because she’d heard that sound the first time she came here and knew what it was.





CHAPTER 63




* * *



WINNIE


I was not supposed to know about the fallout shelter.

I discovered it by accident. I was little, about eight or nine, when my parents got an overnight babysitter to go on a “special outing.” I didn’t understand that special outings for parents with young kids were about sex. Even as an adult I have trouble believing my parents actually “did it,” even though I know full well how I came to be.

My parents bid us good night, and I went up to my room to play in my pillow fort. I had built it up against the window because I could use the windowsill as a platform for my roof. I was adjusting the pile of books holding my blanket-roof in place when I saw Dad’s car roll out of the driveway. I remember seeing his brake lights blinking on and off as the car disappeared into the darkness as they always did when he navigated that narrow drive in the dark. I watched him go, then went to get more books (the blanket was slipping!). As I spread the Black Stallion series across my windowsill, something weird happened. My parents came back. Not in the car, but on foot. Did something happen to their car?

At first I didn’t know the tiny slivers of light bouncing up the driveway were flashlights. But then they passed right under my window, and I saw my mom’s laughing face in a beam of light reflecting off the ground. I could tell from the way they huddled together that this mission was supposed to be a secret, so I proudly did my part in keeping it. Well, for a few days, at least.

My brother and I were playing Egyptian war in my pillow fort when I finally told Charlie how I’d seen Mom and Dad sneak into the toolshed and then sat in the library for hours (until the babysitter found me and made me go to bed), waiting in vain for them to come out.