"Yes." I thought about asking him about the phone call. He seemed so concerned over me, I decided against it.
"I saw you fall out there." He held my elbow, guiding me into the house. He was being so tender, a thrill ran down my spine with his attentive touch. "I slipped on a rock I think. Did you figure out the internet?"
He shook his head, eyes casting to his laptop perched on the kitchen table. "Nope."
"Really? How smart can a smart house really be without wi-fi?"
His eyes narrowed on mine. He dropped his hand at my elbow and moved back to his laptop. His phone sat next to it on the table. I couldn't help but wonder if he’d been talking on it and was now lying.
"Did you get your report finished?"
He only shook his head. "Nearly. Not that it will matter if I can't get it uploaded before Monday. Another storm is coming. I was messing with the satellite system and found the weather station. They're calling for an Arctic clipper starting tomorrow with below-freezing temperatures every night for the next ten days."
My heart hammered quickly as I instantly began to count the number of survival supplies we might have at the chalet if the worst should happen. "Do you think there's a backup heat source in case the electricity goes out?"
"This place is off the grid."
"What?"
"It's an off-the-grid smart house. The department has contracted a private company to determine how resilient and cost-effective it is to implement some of these strategies to help offset the carbon footprint of traditionally built residences. They’re considering nationwide implementation, can you imagine? A suburbia of smart houses, it’s the future, Frey."
“Well, future or not, please tell me we're not the first guests to stay up here in the winter?" I half-laughed.
Tav only shrugged. "No idea. It's the latest model."
I let his words hang heavy between us before I replied, "So do we have a generator or solar power?"
"A combination of both, plus radiant heating throughout. The sun never sets for long up here, we’ll be fine.”
“So even if the generator goes out, you won't need to go full-lumberjack and cut down trees for a fire or anything?”
“Nope.”
“Well, that’s a relief." I turned to the stove in the kitchen and thought of food sources. "And food supply?”
“We’re gone one weekend and suddenly you’re ready to be a pioneer woman? It’s fine, Freya.”
Just then the speakers in the house boomed. “The ten-day forecast for the Northeast region of the United States—”
“Can we turn her down...or off?" I complained.
“Sure." Tav crossed the dining room to the touchpad screen next to the door. "But I bet she’s always listening.”
His words sent a serious chill down my spine. "The house? Should I be worried she might turn the lights on in the middle of the night?”
He swiped a few settings on the touchpad and then the screen went black. "It’s nice to think the house isn’t recording our voices, but it’s being uploaded to a server somewhere that someone has access to.”
“Seriously?"
He shrugged. "That’s how it goes. The smarter it gets the better it gets at reading your mind."
“This place is suddenly creeping me out. The house is always watching. Sounds like a plot out of a horror story.”
Tav sat back behind his computer, fingers fast at work typing.
This was why I appreciated our separate lives. Half of the time he was here, but really not.
I lingered at the kitchen counter, my eyes on the back of his head as he worked. Would I miss him if he was gone and I was suddenly alone? I hated to admit that I didn't know. I’d adapted to life without him all week, and now that it was just the two of us it felt like the sun shone brighter on this mountain when I was outside and far from the air that he was constantly sweeping from my lungs. Tav had a big personality and it swung like a pendulum most days.
I wiped the counter with a wet rag as those thoughts lingered in my mind. Tav seemed to notice my latent anxiety when he asked then, "Are you feeling okay, maybe you should rest your foot.”
"Maybe." I swallowed, the ache in my ankle turning to a dull throb. "I haven't gotten much sleep since we've been here. I hate to waste our time in paradise.”
He stood from his chair. His warm palms worked at my shoulder blades before he placed a kiss at the crevice of my neck. "Take a nap. I'll bring a pill for you, do you want something for that ankle too?"
There it was again.
My medication.
Did he think I was an addict? Did he want me to be?
I felt like I relied on that more than ever even though it’d been months since I’d gotten that fateful phone call. When I wasn't on the pills I felt strung tight with energy, on the borderline of anxiety, but when I was on them I felt thick-headed and groggy all the time. Which was worse? With or without them? I still wasn't sure. And was I being paranoid that it seemed like he liked me on my meds?
I sucked in a soft breath to relax as I let him guide me to the stairs. He rubbed my back softly, placed another kiss at the crown of my head and whispered, “Sweet dreams, Sleepyhead.”
A chill ripped down my spine with his words.
SIX
She curled herself into the leather couch and opened a hardcover book in her lap. The very same that’d been collecting dust on her nightstand for the last year.
He was my primary target, but she’d become tangled up in something dark. I grit my teeth together, half wanting to warn her, throw in the assignment and tell her to run from this man she thought she loved. But she’d made her bed, gone into a life with eyes wide shut, and now she faced the consequences.
I heaved a sigh, only watching her half-heartedly as she buzzed around the empty room. She was alone a lot, that was the first thing I noted about her life.
Like he was laying low because he knew he had a trail. Of course he didn’t know — I was a pro, highly trained with a very specific skill set that allowed me to fly under the radar and observe every moment of any situation that most glossed over as unremarkable.
I was convinced that she was in the dark on every vile thing he’d done. If she knew, would she stay? The question rang between my ears like the incessant chop-chopping of helicopter rotors, haunting me long after it should be out of earshot.
Freya climbed the stairs to her bedroom after dark and tucked herself into bed with her phone, golden lamplight casting the only glow. I zoomed in on her screen, which from my position I had a remarkably good view of, and watched her scroll through news headlines before falling asleep.
I watched with attention long after she was sleeping, feeling every part the stalker I’d become. I snapped another picture, hoping I’d never need to use these photos. Hoping they’d never see the light of day, wishing I could burn them along with all the other evidence that may implicate her in his crimes.
Seven
He’s gone.
That was my first thought when I opened my eyes the next morning.
I rolled over in bed, my eyes not even adjusted before I could sense the lack of his presence. Tav’s energy ate up the room. Even while he slept.
Sunshine streaked across the duvet as I pulled myself out of bed. Tav's shoes were gone, he always kept them neatly under his side of the bed. I brushed my teeth, quickly straightened my hair and then wrapped myself in a robe and went downstairs.
The first thing I noticed when I reached the kitchen was Tav’s missing laptop. If he’d only gone for a quick morning hike, why would he have taken his laptop? My eyes searched the room and I registered that his backpack and duffel, normally sitting at the door, were also missing.
I went to the front door, opening it quickly. A burst of chilly air washed over my skin. The sun glinted off of the snow-capped mountains in the distance, and Tav’s footprints tracked down the path and out of the driveway. Or at least where the driveway would be under the massive snow drifts. The night
s had been below freezing which left a stiff crust on top of the snow. Tav’s prints sunk only a few inches into the top layer.
I frowned, hugging my arms around my waist as I took in the vast isolation around me. What would it be like without Tav here? I didn’t think I’d be able to handle all of the aloneness without driving myself insane. It’s funny, it only took him being gone a few minutes for me to miss him.
I was about to head back inside and get dressed to follow his footprints down the driveway, when I spotted the top of his head coming over the horizon line. I smiled, eager to talk to him. He looked up then, frustration clear on his face. I waved happily, and his frown turned up a little and he waved back. I waited for him at the top of the steps, and when he was close enough I said, “How was your morning hike?”
“Worse than I anticipated.” He paused at the bottom step, squinting into the sunshine. “We’re snowed in.”
“Well, we already knew that, didn’t we?”
He shook his head. “The car is buried under snow, I couldn’t even make out the top—a snowdrift covered it completely.”
I swallowed the growing tension tightening my throat.
“And the bridge is out.”
“Out?” Fear rippled through me.
“Ice snapped one of the suspension cables. They’ve closed it until the ice melts and it’s safe enough for crews to assess the damage.”
“How long will that take?”
“As long as it takes.” Tav clamped down on his bottom lip. “There’s more snow and ice coming tonight. I checked for service as I hiked, even tried to find any open networks or satellite connections. We’re in a dead zone.”
“A dead zone.” I repeated his words, truly afraid for the first time since we’d been here. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” he hissed, annoyed, “we’re at the mercy of nature.” He passed me on his way into the house. “And each other.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up to go with you?”
He wasn’t paying attention, only began unhooking his backpack and rifling through it for his laptop. “Couldn’t sleep, wanted to get a jumpstart on daylight. I guess that project action report will have to wait until later.”
“Project action report for what?”
“Dad has me working on a new arm of the foundation.”
He’d spoken of his father’s foundation a few times in the last year, and it seemed connected to why he’d been so stressed lately. “I can help you with anything, just tell me what to do.”
He shook his head. “Maybe it’s time to start chopping wood.”
“But you said the generator—”
“Everything has changed now. I don’t even know how much food is in this house.”
“The pantry is full, but I can organize it today and we can work on rations. Did the weather station say how long this Arctic clipper is going to last?“
“Frey—we’re in the mountains. We might be waiting ‘til Spring.”
He went back to rearranging his backpack. I lingered near the pantry door pretending to check labels, really my mind was on him. Why had he taken both of his bags with both of his pairs of shoes and hiking boots and all of his clothes? Would he have left me if he had the chance?
He’d said himself we were at the mercy of each other now.
“I was thinking one of us should hike out of here.”
And there it was. His confession. He had tried to leave me alone up here, that’s why he’d left in the early morning hours. Not to get a jumpstart on the daylight like he’d said, but to abandon me.
Eight
From the loft windows I could see everything.
Tav worked chopping wood in a small clearing where he’d packed down the snow at the edge of the woods. He’d found a small handsaw in the utility room of the basement, along with a food storage pantry with bags of rice and canned goods. We now had twelve cases of tuna fish in a can and ten gallons of purified water. The electricity and water still worked, thank God. But if that changed we would need to severely ration even that to conserve the generator power.
Tav swung his axe, destroying another medium-sized evergreen limb. He pointed out the generator to me as it hummed in the backyard. I didn’t think we needed chopped wood. I sensed instead that he was taking out his aggression on it more than anything. He’d always been a doer—while I worried myself into a prescription for anxiety medication, he shot into action.
It was one of the things I loved most about him. So competent and willing to tackle any project that came his way.
I’d probably been paranoid to think he was trying to leave me this morning. He’d had trouble sleeping last night, falling into bed long after I'd fallen asleep, and I'd heard relentless tossing and turning after that.
Whatever his father had tasked him with at the foundation was important, and Tav was always so capable and balanced when it came to his contracts. He never spoke in detail, but I could see the fire in his eyes when he spoke of work—he loved solving puzzles and was a good fit from the start. But the last few months he’d taken to hiding behind his laptop working on projects for the foundation his father had created. When Tav had first told me of the foundation, he’d explained that they needed a charitable committee to review grant requests and charitable action projects. I didn’t know what much of that meant, but it sounded great. And it also seemed to have Tav breaking under the pressure. I made a mental note to search the internet the next time I had service to look for any press releases related to the new foundation. Tav’s father was constantly busy and always putting pressure on Tav to work harder. I knew Tav wanted to make his father proud, but I often wondered to what end.
I was probably being too hard on him. He worked so hard all week long and spoiled me even when he wasn't there. Bags of organic fruit and vegetables from the local market showed up randomly throughout the week. On the nights he knew I was working late on a project, he often sent my favorite takeout to surprise me and to make sure I ate. He was thoughtful, so thoughtful.
Maybe the isolation of this place was already getting to me. So much big nature that required raw survival right outside of the window left me feeling like I had a case of vertigo. Maybe my mind was also off-step because I'd missed a few of my medications over the last few days. That was another reason Tav liked me at home and settled safely, any small daily upheaval of my routine often left my medications—and thinking—haywire.
Up and down moods were often the result.
Tav and I developed a sort of silent lingo when this happened. Without saying anything, he'd often leave my prescription bottle by the nightstand with a glass of sparkling water. He took care of me. He watched out for me when I couldn't. I’d never felt safer.
Tav had been there too when the call came in. As her next of kin, when my mother's body was found, I was the first they’d called. A wave of devastation had swept through me. It stole the air from my lungs and the energy from my muscles. I’d crumbled to the floor and left the Monterey police chief hanging on the other line, while Tav held me close to him and I wept.
My mother was dead.
An accident, they said.
And in one swift moment I lost my entire life. Tav put me back together when I didn't think anything could. Tav and a mild antipsychotic kept me from slipping out of reality. When Tav wasn’t around, I fell so deep into myself it took days to climb out.
That’s when Tav had started to keep tabs on me.
I never did anything to harm myself, but sometimes I think he worried that might change. He began to chat with me often throughout the day while we worked three-hundred miles apart with only a screen separating us. I liked the company, even if it was virtual. We found a way to keep things interesting, if not spicy, via text messages or late-night phone calls. He made me feel taken care of, even then. When I went to therapy, it was like having him with me. All of my appointments he’d called-in for three-way sessions. And by the time he came home on Thursday or Friday night, it wa
s like we were brand new all over again.
Work kept my mind afloat over the last year as I mourned the loss of my mom. I spiraled the first few days. When the local news caught wind of my mother’s passing, the probing voicemails had started. My mother had the bleeding heart of an activist, when she moved to Monterey she started a charity for the arts that brought awareness to mental health and women’s issues. She’d become so active over the years, she’d made a few enemies. Mostly from political groups that made a villain of her for her hot-button human rights debates, but my mom never said much about it to me. She laughed once when she said a local reporter was on her for a hit piece about something from a long time ago when she was younger and even more vocal. She was always at the head of a picket line or protest with her braids and bell-bottoms. Women like her collected friends and enemies. And she seemed to like it that way.
She’s why I shied away from politics, because she had it at the forefront of her mind even when I was a child. My mother’s style of punishment wasn’t standing in the corner, her punishment was reading the Wall Street Journal first to the last page and then choosing one article that she and I could discuss over dinner. She made me whip smart, and averse to anything that polarized people.
I liked the safe world behind my computer screen as chaos erupted outside of my window. My mother was an activist at heart, and I was a hermit. That’s why losing her had devastated me all the more. I hadn’t even been to see her in California. The last time I’d felt her hug was when she’d left me with dreams of adventure in her mind.
I felt like I’d failed her by not coming too, or not taking a bigger role in her life out West. So much of what made her her was her passionate tirades, but I’d grown up with them and could only hear so much.
When the newspapers began to call and ask for statements and interviews from Reina Fremont’s only daughter, I’d caved in on myself.
The Sunday Wife: A Lockdown Thriller Page 3