The Watcher Girl(43)

I did what I could.

I top off the fuel tank in my rental car for the first time since I’ve been here, and then I head toward a chain pharmacy on the corner. Jonah’s birthday is in a few days. He’s the only person in the world I’ll mail a card to—and it’s more of an ironic statement than anything else. Back in the day, he used to tease me mercilessly about my unfeeling demeanor, saying it was nothing more than battle armor to protect the softness inside me. Since then, I’ve made it a tradition each year to hunt for the mushiest, gaudiest, most sentimental birthday card on the rack just for him.

Twenty minutes later, I find a “Happy Birthday to My Best Friend” card. Pastel blue. Oil-painted flowers. Cursive font. The inside bears a long inscription, a syrupy word salad sure to put a smile on his face. I select an envelope the color of sunshine and head to the checkout, passing a handful of empty aisles on the way.

The shop is quiet, save for elevator music playing over speakers in the ceiling.

“Okay, I think that’s everything.” A woman says in the next aisle, her cadence unassuming and familiar. “Should we check out?”

There’s no way.

I peek my head around, scanning past rows of color-coordinated diapers and boxes of baby wipes, only to find Campbell and Gigi.

“Campbell,” I call to her before realizing I’m already halfway there.

Her attention flicks toward me, her eyes growing wide the instant she spots me.

Shock?

Or fear?

“Are you alone?” I keep my voice at a whisper.

She turns her attention to her daughter, hand cinched around her little fist.

“Campbell.” I say her name louder this time, still keeping my tone hushed. “Did you get the phone? We have to talk.”

She peers around—checking for an audience—before meeting my gaze and taking three steps closer. “Yes.”

“Where have you been?” I whisper.

“I was at my mother’s. In Connecticut.”

“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” My voice is too loud. I swallow, as if it could possibly erase the volume of the words I’ve just spoken.

“You should get out of here,” she says, turning to check behind her.

“Is he here?”

Before she has a chance to answer, Sutton appears from a neighboring aisle. In less than an instant, he notices me. His lips flatten, and he positions himself between his wife and me.

He takes the pack of diapers from Campbell. “Why don’t the two of you go wait in the car.”

Campbell hesitates before scooping Gigi into her arms, turning, and disappearing out of sight.

“Are you stalking us, Grace?” he asks when she’s gone.

“No.” I fold my arms across my chest. Jonah’s card bends in the process. “Absolutely not.”

Sutton chuffs, offering an incredulous smirk. “I don’t know how much clearer I can make this. Leave my family alone. Do not stop at my office. Don’t call the police on us. Don’t follow us. Don’t concern yourself with any of . . . this.”

For a moment, I almost blurt out, “What kind of man hits a woman?” because I want him to know that I know . . .

But I zip my mouth. If he finds out Campbell’s been telling me about the abuse, he’ll take it out on her. That’s what happens in these situations. It’s textbook.

“If I see you again, Grace, I’m reporting you for harassment and stalking, and we’ll file for a restraining order.” He speaks through clenched teeth, his voice low. If I didn’t know what I know, I’d imagine he’s simply being protective of his family. Given the facts, I can only surmise he’s trying nothing more than to protect his secret.

The words are on the tip of my tongue like a thinly veiled threat . . . Don’t hurt her again.

He has no idea what I’m capable of, the kinds of “services” I can purchase on the dark web that would make him think twice about ever putting his hands on her again.

But he’s gone.

Once again, Sutton got the last word.

I wait for him to check out, and I watch from the nail polish aisle as the three of them back out of a parking spot in Sutton’s silver Toyota and make it through the intersection across the road.

I buy Jonah’s bent card along with a single stamp, and then I drive home, the bitter taste of defeat on my tongue.

It’s time for me to go.

There’s only so much I can do, and at this point, I’ve done what I can.

Something tells me if I stay, I’ll only make things worse.





CHAPTER 25

Bliss teaches Rose a handful of prenatal yoga poses by the pool Friday morning as I search for a direct flight back to Portland.

They aren’t cheap, given the short notice, but at this point, I’m tempted to empty my life savings if it’ll get me out of Monarch Falls as soon as humanly possible.

Sunlight dances on top of the still waters, and chlorine floats on a breeze mixed with the neighbor’s freshly cut grass.

“There you go. You’ve got it.” Bliss supports the small of Rose’s back as she struggles to maintain the newest position. For someone as twiggy as my sister, she doesn’t have a flexible bone in her body. “Hold it, hold it . . . you’re doing great. Five more seconds.”