Verity(69)

Crew’s eyes flick back to mine and he pulls the knife out of his mouth for a moment, long enough to say, “Mommy said I shouldn’t talk to you if you ask me questions about her.”

I feel the color drain from my face as he casually licks the knife again. I grip the edge of the table, my knuckles white. “She. . . Your mother talks to you?”

Crew stares at me for a few seconds without giving me an answer, and then he shakes his head with a look in his eye that makes me feel like he’s about to backtrack. He realizes he shouldn’t have said that.

“Crew, does your mommy pretend she can’t talk?”

Crew’s teeth clench down while the butter knife is still in his mouth. I see the knife slip up between his teeth, into his gums.

Blood begins to slide down his front teeth, onto his lips. I shove my chair back hard enough that it hits the floor as I grab the handle of the butter knife and pull it out of Crew’s mouth.

“Jeremy!”

I cover Crew’s mouth with my hand, looking around for a towel that might be within reach. There’s nothing. Crew isn’t crying, but his eyes are full of fear.

“Jeremy!” I’m screaming now, partly because I need him to help me with Crew and partly because what just happened terrified me.

Jeremy is here now, in front of Crew, tilting his head back, looking inside his mouth. “What happened?”

“He…” I can’t even say it. I’m gasping for air. “He bit the knife.”

“He needs stitches.” Jeremy scoops him up. “Grab my keys. They’re in the living room.”

I rush to the living room and swipe Jeremy’s keys from the table. I follow them to the garage, to Jeremy’s Jeep. Crew has tears in his eyes as if the pain is setting in. Jeremy opens the back door and puts Crew in his booster seat. I open the front door to climb into the Jeep.

“Lowen,” Jeremy says. I turn around just as he closes Crew’s door. “I can’t leave Verity here alone. I need you to stay.”

My heart plummets deep into the pit of my stomach. Jeremy is helping me down from the Jeep before I can object. “I’ll call you after they see him.” He grabs his keys from my hand, and I’m frozen in one spot as I watch him back out of the garage. He turns his Jeep around and peels out of the driveway.

I look down at my hands, covered in Crew’s blood.

I don’t want to be here anymore, I don’t, I don’t, I hate this job.

A few seconds pass before I realize it doesn’t matter what I want. I’m here, and so is Verity, and I need to make sure her door is locked. I rush back into the house, up the stairs to her room. Her door is wide open, probably because Jeremy rushed downstairs in a hurry.

She’s in her bed. The covers are halfway off her body, and one of her legs is dangling, as if Jeremy heard me screaming before he could get her all the way in the bed.

Not my problem.

I slam the door shut and lock it, then think about what I can do next to ensure my own safety. I rush downstairs when I remember seeing the baby monitor in the basement. The last place I want to be is in the basement, but I power through my fear, using the light on my cell phone, and walk down the stairs. When I was down here with Jeremy, I didn’t give the basement much of an inspection. But I know some of the boxes that were stacked up were closed.

As I shine my light around the room, I notice almost all of the boxes have been moved and opened, as if someone were rummaging through them. The thought that it might have been Verity makes my mission more urgent. I don’t want to be down here longer than I need to be. I head for the area where I saw the baby monitor sticking out of a box. It was right on top when I noticed it the first time—in one of the only unopened boxes.

It’s been moved.

Right when I’m about to give up my search out of fear of being down here, I see the box on the floor a few feet away. I grab the monitor and the receiver and head back for the stairs, my heart heavy in my feet as I try and ascend the steps. Relief spreads through me when the door opens and I escape.

I untangle the cords, then plug the dusty monitor into an outlet next to Verity’s computer. I rush back upstairs, but before I reach the top, I stop. I turn around. I go to the kitchen and grab a knife.

When I’ve reached Verity’s room again, I clutch the knife in my hand and unlock her bedroom door. She hasn’t moved. Her leg is still dangling off the bed. I keep my back to the wall as I move to her dresser and set the other half of the monitor on the dresser. I point it at her bed and plug it in.

I walk back to the door and hesitate before exiting her room. I step forward, still clutching the knife, then lift her leg as fast as I can and drop it on the bed. I throw the covers over her, lift the bed rail, and then slam her door shut when I’m back out in the hallway.

I lock it.

Fuck this shit.

I’m panting by the time I make it to the kitchen sink. I wash the blood off my hands, which has dried to my skin. I spend a few minutes cleaning it off the table and floor. Then I go back to the office and sit down in front of the monitor.

I make sure my cell phone camera is on video mode in case she moves. If she moves...I want Jeremy to see it.

I wait.

For an entire hour, I wait. I watch my phone for Jeremy’s call. I watch the monitor for Verity’s lies. I’m too scared to leave the office and do anything other than wait. The tips of my fingers grow sore from the constant tapping against the desk.