* * * *
Deborah sat in the backseat looking out the window, clutching a large nondescript brown bag holding the documents Gilberto had referred to. She wouldn’t need them right away, but she kept them near so not to forget to take them later. She tried to keep a clear mind, but her thoughts kept wandering back to the note she left with her wedding band on top of the dresser in the bedroom, in which she expressed her love, as well as her horror at the abuse she suffered all those years at Gen’s hand. She explained she couldn’t take the pain any longer and would take her own life to escape her suffering.
“Mrs. Murnay, we should be arriving at the spa in less than ten minutes,” Gilberto announced from the driver’s seat.
“Thank you, Gilberto…for everything. I sincerely don’t know what I would have done if not for you and Teresa.” She cleared her throat, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.
“I wish I could have done more,” he replied, his eyes full of discomfort as he looked back at the rearview mirror.
“Please don’t blame yourself. What happened to me is all on my shoulders. If I had left the first time Gen hit me, we wouldn’t be in this situation. And now…”
“And now what?”
She went to play with her wedding ring but her finger was bare. She sighed brokenly, blinking away her tears. “And now we’ve come to this.” She leaned forward as the car turned to the right and moved down the street. “I know we’ve been over it a million times before. But, when a few weeks have gone by after my ‘death,’ you and Teresa should go to your family in Mexico. Take the one hundred thousand in that secret account your friend helped you set up and disappear. I don’t think Gen has power to reach you out of the country, but you never know.”
He parked the car and laid his arm over the seat. “Deborah.” He cleared his throat and paused. It was the first time he ever called her by her first name. “Don’t concern yourself about me or my sister. We’ll be fine. Your wife knows nothing of our family. We made certain of it. Teresa and I will stay around until she thinks you’re truly dead.” He said the word “she” as if it was a curse.
She gave his hand a slight squeeze. “I’d hate to think you or Teresa could end up as victims of Genevieve’s rage. If she ever found out your part in my—”
“She never will, Mrs. Murnay.” He patted her hand back. “It’s time you went to your appointment. You wouldn’t want to be late.”
She nodded and took her sunglasses and the belly chain Gen had given her for their anniversary out of her purse. She untangled the chain from her glasses and palmed it, almost giving it to Gilberto, just as she had done with most of her jewelry over the past year for him to sell and raise enough money for not only her but for him and his sister. But she didn’t think this piece of jewelry could be sold. It was too unique. Instead of putting it in her purse, she set it on her seat. At least if the car was found, not only would Genevieve have her wedding ring but the chain to remember her by.
She pulled on her sunglasses and swung her hair, giving him a bright smile. “You’ve been a great friend. Please tell Teresa the same when you see her.”
He nodded and stared straight ahead, mimicking the action he usually did whenever he drove her to town.
She nodded and got out of the car, leaving him behind as his cell phone went off. “Hello, Mrs. Murnay. Yes…your wife has arrived at her appointment safely.”
She walked ahead, her face blank as he talked to her wife, who’d called to check on her.
* * * *
Two hours later, Deborah had been waxed, massaged, and given a manicure and pedicure. She glanced at her nails painted with clear nail polish. She couldn’t have them with any color whatsoever so not to be noticed.
Her cell phone vibrated. Genevieve called two times and left a text message telling her to call her when she finished. She dropped her phone in her purse. There was no sense in calling Gen. She’d said her goodbyes to her that morning.
Taking a deep breath, she walked down the hall to the reception desk. She backed into the wall and took out the spare set of car keys Gilberto had given her along with the other essentials. Knowing time was of the essence, she turned toward the back where a door would take her to the side parking lot.
She didn’t run. She even nodded at the employees as she passed them by. Her legs didn’t tremble as she walked through the back door and on the pavement to the car. Instead of using the electronic key fob to unlock the car, she slid the key in the lock and climbed in. She inhaled and started the car. Less than a minute later, she drove out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
The drive took around fifteen minutes. She chewed her nails the entire time, ruining her manicure. She was a ball of tension, constantly looking out the rearview mirror, expecting to be pulled over by a cop, or for some crazy reason for Genevieve to be right behind her, having figured out what she’d done. The road she drove on was practically empty, and when she drove off the highway, she clenched the steering wheel harder. Her knuckles were almost white under her usual lightly bronzed skin as she drove off the road and farther away from the urban area, to a rockier section surrounded by big boulders and mountains in the distance. She didn’t stop the car near the picnic tables or where the hiking trails began though. She drove further in, trying to keep her cool as she passed some cars.
Finally she parked near the entrance of a small bridge that had been under construction for more than a year. The two-lane bridge led to the other side and around the bottom of a small mountain. But Gilberto had informed her when they discussed places for her “suicide” that the bridge was out of commission. It was desolate—and perfect for what she had to do.
Keeping the car running, she got out and carefully stepped on the bridge. She went to the edge where the river was high enough that once the car hit the water, it would be carried away. Luckily for her, it had been a wet season, a bit out of the ordinary from the dry conditions that usually led to a drought. From the way the water crashed and flowed, the rapids swirling under and beyond her, she had picked the right place to commit her fake suicide. If all went well, the car would be beaten up, pulled under the waves, and taken miles downstream. Perhaps days would go by before it was found and people believed her body was eaten by whatever fish lived in the river or the rocks, tearing her corpse to pieces.
She checked her watch. Genevieve would arrive at the hotel and calling either her or Gilberto again since she’d never answered Genevieve’s original calls or text messages. She threw her cell phone, the last form of communication she’d have with her wife, into the rushing water.
She got back in the driver’s seat and drove the car in reverse until it faced the edge of the ravine. She got out, put the car in neutral, and walked behind it. Flexing her arms, glad she’d used weights with a trainer, she sprinted toward the car. With her fast momentum and her pushing, the car began to roll, picking up speed, and with one final push, it fell to the water below. The crash came seconds later, a loud boom ricocheting around her. She went to the edge when the smashed vehicle landed in the water with its wheels up.