The New Husband(95)

So, how would he have slipped the pen case into my backpack later when I was having my reaction? He must have had them with him. But where? In his hand? No, I remembered him running toward me holding one pen case, the one from the nurse’s office, not mine. Could he have hidden my case in his pants pocket? Maybe, but it’s pretty bulky. So where else?

Then it struck me—the one place Simon could have easily concealed the pens. I knew something had been different about him. Yes, he had on his usual polo shirt and khaki pants combo. But he was also wearing a suit jacket that day, something he never did. I remembered it clearly now, waving behind him like a flapping cape as he ran. And that’s when I knew Ben was right about the pen case and Simon was a monster.



* * *



FOR THE rest of the evening program I tried to come up with a way to tell Mom that Simon was a nutcase—bad pun intended. If he took my pens, which I believed he had, it also meant he poisoned my food. I could only imagine what Mom would say: “Here we go again, Maggie.” I’d never felt so connected to the boy who cried wolf in all my life. This accusation, more than all the others, would seem so outrageous, Mom would never, ever believe me. I was completely stuck. Unless … unless her promise to talk later meant she already knew.

Connor was in the front seat as we drove home, carrying a plaque to commemorate his coach’s award. Mom didn’t seem to be her usual beaming, proud mom self. We were silent for a bit until Mom spoke up.

“Kids, I didn’t want to say anything earlier because this was Connor’s day and I didn’t want to spoil it. There have been some … developments at home with me and Simon.”

I was on the edge of my seat. Connor looked at Mom all concerned, like he was bracing himself for the worst. I was doing the same, but his bad news would be good news for me.

“We’ve had some difficulties getting along and I’ve asked Simon to leave for a while.”

Connor’s eyes shot open wide. “What? Why? What did he do?”

“It was nothing he did. We’re just not getting along.”

“No, he did do something.” The words came spilling out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. “He poisoned me. He took my EpiPens, put something in the brownies, and then he slipped the pen case into my backpack.”

“Maggie, enough with you and Simon!” Connor sounded really ticked off.

“What makes you say that, Maggie?” To my utter surprise, Mom didn’t sound angry at all. I told her my theory about the sport coat. Connor shook his head in disbelief, but Mom stayed perfectly still.

“Okay, sweetie,” she replied.

She said it absently, like she was lost in thought.

“I’ll make some hot chocolate when we get home and we’ll all talk about what’s going on, okay?”

Connor nodded his agreement. I leaned my body forward to put a hand on Mom’s shoulder.

“I love you, Mom,” I said.

She glanced at me in the rearview mirror, and the look in her eyes told me everything I needed to know.

She believed me.



* * *



WE ENTERED the house through the garage door, and the first thing I expected, I didn’t get: Daisy didn’t start barking. She always barked whenever we came home, because she knew it was her job to protect us. I thought maybe she was sleeping, so I went to the living room to look for her. But she wasn’t there.

“Daisy!” My voice bounced off the walls as I listened for the sound of padded footsteps that never came. I ran to the kitchen to look for Mom and Connor.

“Daisy’s not here,” I said, tears welling in my eyes.

“Of course she is,” said Connor confidently. “She’s probably sleeping.”

We checked all over the house, every room, under the beds even, but she wasn’t there.

I kept calling her name over and over again: “Daisy! Daisy! Where are you? Come out. Please … please!”

My voice kept breaking into sobs. Even Connor now looked sick with worry. It wasn’t until I was coming downstairs after checking all the bedrooms that I noticed what was wrong. The front door was open slightly, like we’d forgotten to shut it completely on our way out. I checked the screen door for paw marks, thinking maybe she’d gotten out the way she had before—that horrible day Simon came into our lives. But I saw no scratches and the screen was intact. Still, who had left the door open?

We called the police. There should have been a patrol car parked out in front of our house.

“They were called away because of a reported burglary in the neighborhood,” Mom told me. “So they didn’t see anyone take her.”

Then Connor spoke up, and surprised us all.

“What if Simon reported the burglary to get the police to leave so he could come here and take Daisy?”

“Where would he take her?” Mom asked. “Are there hotels around here that allow pets?” She didn’t make it sound like Connor’s theory was far-fetched.

“He’s not staying at any hotel,” I said. Connor and I took turns telling Mom about the rental house, our theory about the place not being rented, and how we sort of proved it.

Mom looked upset, but more about us taking risks than us spying on Simon.

Then Connor’s face lit up.