The New Husband(55)

In the early days of his captivity, Simon had been quite cruel. He took twisted pride in having total power over his captive. He reveled in taunting Glen with stories of Nina and the children, like an alpha dog marking his territory. Simon had wanted everything, every single moment Glen spent in the box, to hurt.

One time, before Simon and Nina moved in together, he brought her into the basement while giving her a tour of the house. He had placed a wireless speaker inside the box so Glen could hear her voice, but she couldn’t hear him no matter how loud he called out to her.

Sitting cross-legged in his room behind the wall, tears streaming down his face, Glen had listened as Nina made comments about the basement being so clean and neat, how it didn’t feel damp at all.

They didn’t stay long, but Simon returned later to gloat.

“Your wife is so hot in bed,” he had told Glen. “She loves doing things with me she never did with you. She told me I’m the best she’s ever had. She’s glowing right now, positively glowing, in my bed upstairs.”

Glen had lunged at Simon, who stood in the safety zone, so the chain pulled tight, and his outstretched fingers brushed only air. He could move in any direction inside the box, but only within a six-foot radius. When Simon needed to get closer—to remove the ankle shackle so Glen could change his clothes, for instance—he always kept his Taser at the ready. But Glen had learned his lesson. There was no escape.

Simon, too, had become more subdued, even compassionate. Mutual dependency had forged a strange bond between captor and captive.

“We need to end this chat now,” Simon said. “I’ll do the typing, you answer any questions.” A smile came to his face, eerily lit by the phone’s bright display. “Let’s see Nina keep working when her daughter’s an emotional wreck,” Simon remarked to himself.

Ever since Nina took that job, Simon had been pressing Glen for ways to force her to quit. Glen did not begin to understand this obsession, nor did he understand any of the forces behind Simon’s behavior, including his all-consuming need for Nina. But Simon was right to believe that Nina would quit if she felt her job was negatively impacting Maggie. He understood this without any help from Glen.

“Remember what I told you,” Simon warned. “Remember the consequences.”

The consequences, as Simon had made abundantly clear from the start, were that if Glen failed to cooperate, tried in any way to warn Maggie, he would kill the entire family. He threatened to do it slowly and brutally and livestream it for Glen to watch. He said he might even kill Glen and stage the crime to look like a murder-suicide.

Glen, broken in body and spirit, close to madness, had done Simon’s bidding and deceived his daughter to protect his family. But how much longer could he do his part to keep them all safe?





CHAPTER 30


Ben handed me tissues he’d brought, knowing I’d need them even before I did. I started typing fast, my fingers flying over the digital letters, writing exactly what was in my head.

Please come home.

I can’t Maggie.

Please. You’ve got to help. You’ve got to get him out of the house.

Get who out?

And that’s when I stopped: Dad didn’t know. He didn’t know we’d moved. He didn’t know that Mom was with Simon. He didn’t know any of it, because he’d already been gone when it all happened.

What’s going on? Is Mom seeing somebody? Are you living with this person now?

I hesitated before showing Ben the exchange, looking to him for guidance.

Tell him the truth, his shrug back to me said.

Part of me agreed. If Dad didn’t know what was happening, he might not realize how important it was for him to come home—before Mom became Mrs. Simon Fitch. But another part of me worried about upsetting him, hurting him more than he was already hurting.

In the end, the truth won out. I texted him about Simon and told him everything, explaining it as best I could in text-speak, mostly letting him know we were in a new house with Simon and that I didn’t trust him.

Why? he asked.

So many reasons. I’d have to tell you by phone.

I thought: And I need to hear your voice.

Is your mom happy? he wrote. Not the reaction I was expecting.

What does that matter?? He’s not you!

I’ve done things. Things I’m ashamed of.

I know what you did. The waitress. Don’t care.

No. You don’t know everything. Nobody does. And I can’t tell you. You just have to trust me.

Please tell Mom you’re alive. I have to tell her. I can’t keep this a secret.

MAGGIE, NO!!!!

All caps. Serious business.

IF SHE FINDS OUT IT WILL BE VERY BAD FOR ME.

All caps again.

Ok, I wrote, feeling really crappy about upsetting him and guilty for having told Ben.

I’m serious, Maggie. Mom will tell the police, and if you tell Connor, he’ll tell Mom. I can’t have that. OK? Wish I could explain but can’t. Trust me. Tell me about this new guy.

I typed as fast as my thumbs could move.

He’s SUPER creepy. He was OK for a bit. Got worse when we moved in together and Mom started working.

I added a bunch of grimacing-face emojis—a yellow face with clenched teeth—for emphasis.

I kept typing.

He has this hidden rage. Saw it once. Like a serial killer!! Tried to record it with my phone. Broke his gun to get him mad but he winked at me like he knew what I was doing. And he freaked out about some tree branches. Lied about a trip. And made fun of me in front of the whole school! Too much to type. But trust me. He is CRAZY CRAZY!!