The Couple Next Door(72)

He stops when he sees her. Anne is sitting on the sofa in the dark, utterly still. There is a large knife in her hands; Marco recognizes it as the carving knife from the wooden block on their kitchen counter. The blood drops from his heart and pools in his feet. He takes a cautious step forward and tries to see her more closely. What is she doing sitting in the dark with a knife?

“Anne?” Marco says, more quietly. She appears to be in some kind of trance. She’s scaring him. “Anne, what happened?” He speaks to her the way someone might try to talk to a dangerous animal. When she doesn’t answer him, he asks, in the same gentle voice, “What are you doing with the knife?”

He needs to turn on the light. He moves slowly toward the lamp on the side table.

“Don’t come near me!” She holds up the knife.

Marco stops in his tracks, staring at her, at the way she’s holding the knife, as if she means to use it.

“I know what you did,” she says in a low, desperate voice.

Marco thinks quickly. Anne must have been talking to her father. Things must have gone horribly wrong. Marco is flooded with despair. He realizes how much he was relying on his father-in-law to save the day, to get Cora back for them. But clearly everything has fallen apart. Their baby is gone forever. And Anne’s father has told her the truth.

And now this last part, this final piece—his wife has lost her mind.

“What’s with the knife, Anne?” Marco asks, forcing his voice to stay calm.

“It’s for protection.”

“Protection from who?”

“From you.”

“You don’t need protection from me,” Marco says to her in the dark. What has her father been telling her? What lies? He would never intentionally harm his wife or child. It’s all been a terrible mistake. She has no reason to be afraid of him. You’re dangerous, Marco, with your plans and schemes. “Have you seen your father?”

“No.”

“But you’ve talked to him.”

“No.”

Marco doesn’t understand. “Who have you been talking to?”

“No one.”

“Why are you sitting here in the dark with a knife?” He wants to turn on the light but doesn’t want to startle her.

“That’s not true,” Anne says, as if remembering. “I did see Cynthia.”

Marco is silent. Terrified.

“She showed me the video.” The look she gives him is terrible. All her pain and rage shows on her face. Her hatred.

Marco sags; he feels like his knees will give way. It’s all over now. Maybe Anne wants to kill him for stealing their baby. He can’t blame her. He wants to grab the knife and do it himself.

Suddenly he goes cold. He needs to see the knife. He needs to know if she’s used it. But it’s too dark. He can’t see her well enough to see if there’s blood on her or on the knife. He takes another step toward her and stops. Her eyes terrify him.

She says, “You kidnapped Cora. I saw it with my own eyes. You carried her out of the house wrapped in her blanket and took her to the garage. That man took her away. You planned the whole thing. You lied to me. And you kept on lying to me, all this time.” Her voice is disbelieving. “And then, when he double-crossed you, you went to that cabin and beat him to death with a shovel.” She’s more animated now.

Marco is horrified. “No, Anne—I didn’t!”

“And then you sat at the kitchen table with me and said he looked familiar.”

Marco feels sick. He thinks of how it must seem to her. How twisted everything has become.

Anne leans forward; she is holding the large knife tightly with both hands. “I’ve been living with you in this house, this whole time since Cora was taken, and all along you’ve been lying to me. Lying about everything.” She stares at him and whispers, “I don’t know who you are.”

Marco keeps his eyes on the knife and says, desperately, “I did take her. I did take her, Anne. But it’s not what you think! I don’t know what Cynthia told you—she doesn’t know anything about it. She’s blackmailing me. She’s trying to use the video to get money out of me.”

Anne stares at him, her eyes huge in the dark.

“I can explain, Anne! It’s not how it looks. Listen to me. I got into financial trouble. The business wasn’t going well. I had some reversals. And then I met this man, this . . . Derek Honig.” Marco falters. “He told me his name was Bruce Neeland. He seemed like a nice guy—we became friends. He suggested the kidnapping. It was all his idea. I needed the money. He said it would be fast and easy, that no one would get hurt. He planned the whole thing.” Marco pauses for breath. She is staring at him, her eyes grim. Even so, it is a relief to confess, to tell her the truth.

“I took Cora out to him in the garage. He was supposed to call us within twelve hours, and we were supposed to get her back in two or three days at most. It was supposed to be so fast and easy,” Marco says bitterly. “But then we didn’t hear from him. I didn’t know what was happening. I tried to call him with that cell phone you found—that’s what it was for—but he didn’t answer my calls. I didn’t know what to do. I had no other way to reach him. I thought that maybe he’d lost the cell phone. Or that he’d gotten cold feet, that maybe he’d killed her and left the country.” His voice has become a sob. He pauses to regain control. “I was panicking. It’s been absolute hell for me, too, Anne—you’ve no idea.”