“How do you plan to deal with Skip?”
“I want to beat the crap out of him, but I’m just going to call him and tell him I know. And not to come near me or my wife again or I’ll kill him.”
“I get it.” I lean forward to stretch one of my calves, which is tightening up.
“I told Marissa I didn’t want to know a single detail about what happened that night. I don’t want that picture in my head.” Matthew hesitates. “Honestly, I think she’s relieved Skip will be out of our lives. I think she’s a little scared of him now. All the stuff he’s done … he could be violent.”
Behind me, I hear the crack of a stick breaking.
I spin around. The trail is empty.
“We can look into a restraining order if he does anything else,” I tell Matthew. “But I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“I’m still taking Marissa out on the boat later today. Skip’s not going to ruin that for us. It’s not going to be the anniversary celebration I wanted, but … I don’t know, maybe it can be a new beginning.”
“It can be anything you want it to be.”
“Okay. I guess we’ll see you tomorrow night. Maybe you should have that tequila ready.”
I laugh and promise I will.
When we hang up, I adjust my earbuds again and resume running. I seem to be alone in the woods, but I’m prepared. I’ve got Mace on my key chain, and I can hear anyone coming.
Because appearances lie: I’m not a carefree jogger listening to a playlist; there’s never been any music playing through my earphones.
Romeo begins to bark and tug on his leash again, pulling me forward.
We round a corner and I spot a woman power walking ahead of me. Romeo and I pass her, and then a few minutes later, two bicyclists whip by me.
The woods that briefly felt menacing seem safe again.
Romeo and I reach the end of the trail and exit. My car is parked where it always is when I do these Sunday runs—along a stretch of Western Avenue.
A man is leaning against it, clearly waiting for me. It’s a terrible spot for an ambush. Not only is this a busy road, but plenty of people are around.
Still, I reach for my Mace, ready to fight to protect myself and my dog.
I’m sick of being threatened and followed. If it’s one of Acelia’s henchmen, I’m going to blast him with Mace, kick him between the legs, and call the cops.
But it isn’t.
It’s Skip.
I take a few more steps toward him, ready to tell him off. Then I look down at Skip’s hands and gasp.
It’s cold out, and he’s wearing gloves.
Blue leather gloves.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
MARISSA
THE TRADITIONAL ANNIVERSARY GIFT for twelve years is silk or linen. Marissa hadn’t been able to find anything inspiring along those lines, so her present to Matthew is a vintage Rolex. She’d ordered it weeks ago and had thought about having it engraved with the message EVERY MINUTE I LOVE YOU MORE. However, getting it inscribed proved more challenging than she’d expected, so she planned to give it to him unadorned.
She’d intended to wrap it earlier today, but hasn’t had a moment alone. Even though Matthew slept in the elephant room again, he woke early and showered in their bathroom. By the time Bennett padded downstairs in his pj’s, Marissa and Matthew were in the kitchen drinking coffee.
Things weren’t right between them yet, but Matthew had agreed to try, and that felt like the best anniversary gift he could have given her.
He seemed to have something else up his sleeve, though.
After they’d eaten lunch, Matthew helped Bennett pack an overnight bag and was currently taking their son for an unprecedented school-night sleepover at Charlie’s.
Marissa had felt a sharp pang when Bennett hugged her goodbye; she was gripped again by the yearning to be near her son, keeping her eyes on him at all times.
But she didn’t let on. Bennett had only been on two sleepovers in his life, and even though both were at Charlie’s house, Bennett was still a little nervous.
Don’t forget to feed Sam, he’d said, chewing on a thumbnail.
I won’t. She’d smiled brightly at Bennett. I’ll pick you up after school tomorrow.
By then, she’d hopefully have hired a new assistant and given Polly notice. And Skip would be out of their lives.
Instead of being filled with a sense of peace, her unease intensifies when Matthew and Bennett leave.
She keeps busy, tidying the kitchen and loading the dishwasher with their plates from lunch, then removing the watch from her hiding place in the garage and bringing it into the kitchen to wrap. She’s folding down the last corner of the package when the Scotch tape in the dispenser runs out.
There’s more tape in her makeshift office upstairs, but a closer roll is likely in Matthew’s study. She leaves her gift on the kitchen island and walks into the room, the hardwood floors cool against her bare feet.
Across the room, the window by Matthew’s cherished Picasso sketch is firmly shut. She averts her gaze. She won’t let thoughts of Skip intrude today.
There’s a letter opener, Matthew’s laptop, and a pencil holder on his desk, along with a silver-framed family photo, but no tape. Marissa walks around behind the desk and pulls open the top drawer. Like everything in Matthew’s office, it’s well organized, with scissors, envelopes, paper clips, and a stapler in neat sections. The tape is toward the back.
She pulls the drawer out a little farther and sees another object next to the tape: a woven white rope.
She stares at it in confusion, even though she knows exactly what it is: Bennett’s missing Cub Scout rope.
What’s it doing hidden away here?
She pulls it out and stares at it. It’s tied in an intricate knot that resembles a figure eight.
It’s called a sailor’s knot. She knows because she grew up on the water, and even though she never learned to make them, she’s seen them a hundred times.
Bennett wasn’t practicing sailor’s knots, though; he doesn’t even know how to form them. He was working on square knots.
Her skin prickles.
She hears the sound of Matthew’s car pulling into the driveway and quickly pulls off a piece of tape, putting back the roll along with the rope and shutting the drawer.
She hurries into the kitchen and finishes wrapping the gift, sliding it into her handbag by the time Matthew has unlocked the door.
He steps into the kitchen. He’s wearing a black jacket and dark jeans and his expression is grim.
Then he sees her and smiles. “It’s just the two of us now.”
For some reason, her stomach clenches. It’s because of everything that happened last night, she tells herself.
“I should get changed so we can go.” She desperately needs a minute alone.
“There’s no rush.” Matthew walks around the island to stand next to her, taking off his jacket. He’s wearing a light blue oxford, one that Marissa bought him because it complements the color of his eyes. “Come, sit down. There’s something I need to tell you about.”
She doesn’t want to sit, but she acquiesces.
Matthew, however, remains standing, setting his jacket down on the stool next to Marissa’s. He’s close to her. She feels penned in.