The New Husband(93)
And how likely was it that Maggie’s EpiPens weren’t easy to find? Ben Odell was the most competent boy she’d ever met. He wouldn’t have missed seeing the case. It was always in Maggie’s backpack, unless … unless the pens really weren’t there.
Could Simon have removed them? In all that chaos, how easy would it have been for him to slip the pen case back into her backpack with nobody noticing? As easy as putting a drop of peanut oil in the brownies. And why do it? Well, there’s nothing like the near-death experience of a child to make one reconsider her priorities, that’s why.
Nina returned to the kitchen to find Simon pacing the room. He read the ingredients on the box in his hand, looking baffled, head down, like he was studying for an exam. She gripped the kitchen counter to steady her shaking hands. Simon looked up at her.
“I’ll call the company first thing in the morning,” he said. “Tell them the packaging similarities nearly caused a deadly mistake.”
“Get out,” Nina whispered.
Simon’s eyes widened as if disbelieving what he heard. “Nina, what?”
“Get out,” she repeated, hissing the words in a low voice. She swallowed her anger and fear.
Simon’s surprise deepened. “What … what are you talking about? Nina, you’re stressed … you’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’m finally thinking clearly,” Nina said, stepping forward. “Get out of my house. Get out now.” She growled the order through gritted teeth.
“It’s our house, Nina,” Simon said. “Or did you forget?”
Simon didn’t sound or look furious or even surprised anymore.
“In ten seconds, if you don’t start packing a bag, I will go outside to the police car currently parked in front of our house and tell them that you tried to kill my daughter.”
As it turned out, Glen had finally, albeit unwittingly, done something to help her. The police were already here.
“Are you crazy?” Simon’s voice carried an edge of anger, as the darkness in his eyes deepened. “You have no proof of that.”
“No, I don’t.” Nina summoned strength and conviction she hadn’t known she possessed. “But it’ll ruin your teaching career, and that’s just the start.”
In a flash, Nina played out in her mind what would happen if she marched down the walkway, banged on the window of the police car parked curbside, and cried for help. She knew the laws, because more often than not, the police called in social workers when they lacked legal authority. They would investigate her claims for sure, but this was not a domestic violence incident. There were no signs of struggle or violence of any kind. She was well, the children were fine, nobody was drunk or high, and Simon would of course be on his best behavior. She had no marks on her person, so she couldn’t lie about being hit or choked. If she did, Simon would claim the charges against him were fabricated and she’d be the one in trouble.
No doubt, if she did raise a ruckus the police would probably call for backup. The children would awaken. The authorities would interview Simon in the house, not down at the station, because they’d have no cause to arrest him. They’d simply want to know why Nina was making these allegations. And he’d have an answer.
“I’m sorry for all this craziness, officers,” she imagined Simon would say. “Nina’s been under tremendous stress because of Glen and now this terrible incident with Maggie. I just need to get her to bed. She’ll be better in the morning.”
Nina could make a scene. Beg for help. But again, what crime had been committed here? She could try to explain the long string of events that had led her to the conclusion that Simon was dangerously manipulative, but not without sounding like a lunatic. Her best bet was to bluff and hope that Simon wasn’t as intimately familiar with police procedure as she was.
Simon took a threatening step forward. Nina held her ground, forcing herself to gaze into the blackness of his eyes, seeing in them something deeply disturbing.
“Go upstairs, pack a bag, and get out of here. Get out before I make things much worse for you.”
Nina could see from Simon’s pained expression that her words had packed the intended punch.
“I love you, Nina,” Simon said, sounding as sweet and sincere as she’d ever heard him. “You need help, serious help. But I’m not going to put you under any more stress. I can tell you’re at your breaking point. So I’ll go. Okay? I’ll leave, right now, but remember, this is my property, too.”
My property …
His comment evoked a memory of those tree branches. Everything in Simon’s world, Nina thought, from his clothes to the people in it, needed to be ordered, neat, to fit inside defined compartments in his mind.
“I expect you to get over whatever is going on with you right now and to invite me back into my house very soon.” Simon’s tone was severe, borderline threatening. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to take action on my own.”
“Action?” Nina’s brow knitted as her voice rose in pitch.
“You’re a social worker,” Simon said. “You of all people know it’s not acceptable to leave children in a dangerous situation. Your thoughtlessness could have killed Maggie today.”
Was he threatening to accuse her of being an incompetent parent? Yes, that’s exactly what he was doing, she decided. Threatening to take the children away from her.