An Anonymous Girl(81)

CHAPTER


FIFTY-FIVE


Saturday, December 22

Finally, there is an answer: Thomas is true.

The pillowcase on the left side of the bed holds the scent of his shampoo again.

Sunlight’s warm glow fills the room. It is almost eight A.M. Remarkable. Relief manifests physiologically in myriad ways: Insomnia is banished. The body feels rejuvenated. The appetite returns.

Thomas’s renewed display of fidelity is healing more than just our wounded marriage.

Nearly twenty years ago, another seismic betrayal—this one involving my sister, Danielle—left me with a jagged emotional scar.

Today that scar feels less prominent.

A note folded into a little tent waits on the nightstand. A smile forms even before it is read: Sweetheart, there’s fresh coffee downstairs. I’ll be back in twenty with bagels and smoked salmon. Love, T.

The words are so ordinary, yet so magical.


After a leisurely breakfast, Thomas departs for the gym. He will return later to pick me up for a scheduled dinner with another couple. My errands are routine, but my stop at the new boutique a few doors down from my hair appointment at the salon is not. The mannequin in the window wears a pink teddy with a V in the front. It’s more subtle than the sort of lingerie you would probably choose, Jessica, but the soft silk and high-cut legs are flattering.

On impulse, the teddy is purchased.

After a lavender-scented bubble bath, a dress is selected that covers the lingerie. Thomas will discover it later tonight.

Before the dress can be slipped on, a text pings.

The message is from you: Hi, just checking to see if you’ll be needing me to do anything more in regard to the last assignment. If not, Lizzie invited me to go home with her for Christmas, so I thought I’d book a flight.

How interesting.

Could you ever truly believe details concerning your whereabouts would be carelessly overlooked, Jessica? Lizzie and her family are celebrating the holidays at a luxury condo in Aspen.

Before a reply is crafted, your folder is retrieved from the desk in the study. Dates are double-checked. Indeed, Lizzie departed yesterday to meet her family in Colorado.

The doorbell rings.

Your folder is replaced atop April’s, in the center of the desk near the fountain pen that was a gift from my father.

“Thomas! You’re early!” He is given a lingering kiss.

He glances at his watch. “Do you need another few minutes?”

“Just one.”

Upstairs, perfume is dabbed behind my ears and Thomas’s favorite high heels are chosen.

Thomas is still waiting by the door. “Warren said they were running a little late, so I told him not to worry, that we’d be there right on time to hold the table.”

“Hopefully dinner doesn’t take too long,” he is told. “I was thinking we could make it an early night. I’ve planned a surprise for you.”





CHAPTER


FIFTY-SIX


Saturday, December 22

The key glides into the lock.

My hand shakes as I twist it. Then I push the door open.

A soft beeping sound erupts as I step into Dr. Shields’s town house. I close the door behind me, sealing off the light from the two outside sconces. Now the hallway is so shadowy I can barely make out the alarm keypad on the left side of the entranceway.

I slip off my shoes so I don’t track any mud or dirt inside, but I keep my coat on, in case I need to leave fast.

Thomas gave me the security code when he called today. He told me he’d leave the keys he’d copied under the doormat.

Use the silver one for the bottom lock the for the top, he’d said. I’ll try to keep Lydia out until eleven.

He also told me I’d have thirty seconds to deactivate the alarm.

I walk over to the keypad and punch in the four digits: 0-9-1-5. But in my haste, I mistake the 6 for a 5 in the dim light.

I realize my error a split second later.

There’s a long, shrill noise, then the beeping resumes. It’s faster now, sounding almost frantic, blurring with the thudding of my heart.

How many seconds have elapsed? Fifteen? I have to get it right or the security company will summon the police.

I press in each number carefully.

The alarm makes a final, high-pitched sound. Then it falls silent.

I withdraw my gloved hand from the numbered pad and exhale. I wasn’t sure until now if Thomas had given me the right four digits.

My legs are so weak I have to lean against the wall to steady myself.

I stand there for a full minute. Then another. I can’t dislodge the fear that Thomas and Dr. Shields are just a floor above me, hiding in her study.

I could still leave; I could put on my shoes, arm the alarm, and replace the keys. But then I’ll never know what Dr. Shields might be holding over me.

I saw your file upstairs on her desk this morning, Thomas had said. It was resting on top of April’s.

Finally, I know where the elusive manila folder is—the one I’d seen on Dr. Shields’s office desk during our early sessions. The one Ben had told me I needed to find.

Did you look inside? I’d asked Thomas.

I didn’t have time. She was asleep, but she could’ve woken up at any second.

I’d squeezed my eyes shut in frustration at his words. What did it matter if I knew where Dr. shields kept my file when I’d never be able to get it?