The Lies I Told(95)

“Of course.”

As he turned to get the bottle, I twisted the towel tightly around the ice. He looked up at me just as I swung the ice ball and struck him hard against the side of his head. He staggered as I reached for the bottle of tequila.

“No, no, no!” he shouted.

He reached for me as I gripped the bottle’s neck and swung it with my full weight behind it. Tequila sloshed over us both as the hard glass hit him on the side of the head, breaking into pieces that cut into his skin.

He grimaced, slackened his grip, giving me time to break free and scramble out of the kitchen. As I neared the front door, his footsteps thundered behind me. I ripped one of my river pictures off the wall and swung it around, striking him hard on the side of the face. Glass shattered into shards, cutting deep into his skin. He fell back as I threw the framed picture at him, wrestled the chain and locks open before reaching for the doorknob. I gripped the cold metal and twisted.

As I ran for the stairwell, I pulled in a breath, trying to shove out a scream. I stumbled down the stairs, gripping the rail. Cool metal slid under my palm as I struggled to even out my breathing. Upstairs, Jack’s footsteps thundered out of my apartment.

Down to the fourth floor, I turned the corner and kept running. My legs were weak, and I felt sick to my stomach.

“Marisa,” Jack said. “Don’t do this!”

Third floor, I heard the front door to the apartment building open and close. Someone was there. I kept running, and when I hit the second-floor landing, I stumbled but caught myself after an exaggerated step.

Jack was getting closer. He was now only one floor behind me.

On the first floor, a couple stood by the elevator. They were holding hands, staring blissfully at each other as I burst around the corner smelling of tequila and fear. “Call 9-1-1, please!”

They stared at me shocked, confused. It was one of those moments when we all think we know how we’ll react, but in the end, we’re stunned into silence by the unexpected.

I ran toward the woman, staggering. “Call 9-1-1!”

Jack burst out of the stairwell door behind me. He saw the couple. Tried to smile as blood dripped from a jagged cut on his cheekbone. “It’s okay, she’s just upset. We had a fight.”

“He’s trying to kill me!” My belly ached from the blow, and my blouse was doused in tequila. I raced toward the couple, grabbing the woman’s sleeve.

The woman snatched her arm away.

“She gets this way when she’s drunk.” Jack’s voice was almost calm now, and I was shocked he had recovered so quickly. “She has mental problems. My wife called and asked me to check in on her. I caught her drinking and she lost it.”

Had he been this calm when he’d stripped Clare’s dead body and laid her in the river?

The man frowned, but it was the woman who reached for her phone. As she readied to dial, Jack hurried toward her. “Please, she’s sick, and we don’t want the police involved. With her record, they’ll put her back in the mental hospital.”

“He’s lying,” I rasped.

The doors to the building opened with a sudden rush of energy. David, breathless and pale, looked at me and then at Jack. “Jack.”

“She’s sick,” Jack said. “Tell them she’s sick. She needs help. We’re here to help her. I’m an old friend, and David is to be her brother-in-law.”

“That’s not true!” I shouted. “They aren’t trying to help me.”

The woman lowered her phone. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “She needs help.”

“We can help her,” David said.

“No!” I shouted. My head spun, and as I ran to the door, David grabbed my arm.

His face was oddly calm. “It’s okay, Marisa. I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

I tried to snatch my arm free, but his grip was stronger than I’d ever imagined. My heart rammed against my ribs, and I thought back to the moment he had confronted Clare on New Year’s Eve. She must have been terrified when he wrapped these same hands around her neck.

“Let me help you, Marisa.”

I twisted my arm, straining against his iron grip. “Is that what you said to Clare?”

Mentioning her name caught him off guard for just an instant.

“Did she beg you to stop?” I shouted. “Did you even care that you were hurting her?”

“I never hurt your sister.” David glanced toward Jack, and I imagined them rehearsing the words over and over. His fingers bit deeper into my arm.

“Let’s get her to the hospital,” Jack said.

“Yes, the hospital,” David repeated.

I knew in my bones if we left this lobby, I would die. “I’m not going!”

Jack took my other arm, and when he glanced back at the couple, he was actually smiling, as if he were dealing with an angry toddler. “She’ll be fine. She needs a doctor.”

They pulled me toward the door as I tensed every muscle in my body. I wasn’t going to die without a fight.

Blue lights flashed on the walls, and when I turned, I saw the blue lights of two cop cars. Richards was taking the steps two at a time. He punched in the security code, gun drawn, and entered the lobby.

I screamed his name, never more grateful to see anyone in my life.