All the Beautiful Lies(77)

“Don’t worry about it. It’s all taken care of.”

“It’s not all taken care of. You’re right, the police are going to come after you. You need to either leave town, or—”

“Shhh, I know what needs to be done. That’s why I asked you here. For your help. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to do this. I don’t think I can do it myself.”

“I don’t know what—”

“Yes, you do. I’m old and I don’t want to go to prison. All you need to tell them is that I invited you here, and when I attacked you, you defended yourself. You can tell them I’d stopped being able to sleep, and that I did it all for you. Or just tell them you have no idea what went wrong with me, and they’ll come up with their own ideas.”

“It’s too warm in here, Jake,” Alice said, standing and going to look at the thermostat on the wall.

“Do you remember when we first met? Right down there on the beach. You were in a green bathing suit and I’d never seen anyone so beautiful.”

“You were with my mother.”

“No, I don’t think so. It was just the two of us.”

Alice turned from the thermostat to look at Jake. He was wrong about how they’d met, but she did remember meeting him, how strong he looked, how sure of himself he was. He’d lost all that now.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Alice said.

“Yes?”

“How . . . exactly?” Alice walked to the nearest window, the one that looked out over the parking lot. She twisted the lock, noticing the grime that had accumulated on the sill, and cracked the window. The smell of salt air came into the condo almost immediately.

“There’s a knife in the kitchen,” Jake said. “I’d get it for you but I think you should be the one who pulls it from its block. I’ll hit you once, very lightly, with the cosh, and then you stab me. There won’t be any suspicion, and even if there is, they’ll never prove you weren’t protecting yourself.”

Alice watched as a familiar car—it looked like Harry’s green Honda—turned from Scituate into the condo’s parking lot, pulling into an empty spot next to Alice’s Volvo.

“Harry’s here,” she said, still watching the car.

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure Harry’s here,” she said, then watched as the driver’s side door opened, and it was Harry who stepped out, turning and looking up at the condo building. Alice moved back from the window. “It’s him. He’s here.”

“Then it has to be done right now.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Alice said. “Where?” And suddenly she did want to kill Jake, not as a favor to him, but because she was angry.

“In the kitchen.” Jake picked up the sock filled with quarters from the coffee table, and Alice followed him into the alcove. “Tell them we were talking in here. I wasn’t making any sense, and I threatened you. You pulled out the knife and protected yourself.”

“You have to hit me.”

“I’ll hit you lightly. It won’t matter.” Jake pointed at the knife block. “Take that one there, top right, it’s the sharpest.”

The kitchen swam in her vision as Alice walked and gripped the knife’s wooden handle, pulling it free from its block. She turned to Jake.

There was the loud, echoey bong of the doorbell ringing.

“Just do it,” Jake said. “There’s no time now.”

“Hit me first.”

Jake nodded, and feebly swung the sock with the quarters, glancing them off of Alice’s shoulders.

“It’s got to be harder,” she said.

He swung again, clipping her left ear. It hurt more than she thought it would. She blinked rapidly.

The doorbell rang a second time.

She punched the knife into his chest, where she thought his heart was, but the knife only went about an inch in, and Jake staggered backward a step, dropping the cosh on the floor. She looked into his eyes, trying to remember the man who had once lifted her into his arms and carried her like a bride into this very home. Now all she saw in his eyes was confusion, and a little bit of panic. He lifted a hand up, his fingers spread, and Alice took hold of his wrist, pressed his hand up against the side of her face, bringing him in closer to her. His fingers gripped her neck, his nails ripping at her skin. They were both breathing heavily, Jake’s lips apart but his stained teeth clenched together. He squeezed harder at Alice’s neck, and she felt a trickle of blood run down into her collarbone. She stabbed him again harder, and this time, when she pulled the knife out, blood began to soak his shirt. He dropped to his knees and then to the ground. Jake put his hand on his chest, and the blood pumped out between his fingers, pooling in the folds of his shirt.

The doorbell rang again. Alice watched Jake, just to make sure he’d stopped breathing. She dropped the knife to the floor, where it skittered away, leaving a trail of blood. She touched her fingers to her neck, puffy where the welts were already rising up.

He nearly killed me, she thought. Then: I had to do it. I had to do it, the words running through her head as she moved, trancelike, to the front door.





Chapter 32





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