The Midnight Wife

by L. G. Davis

  “Thank you.” I give her a watery smile.

  When she walks out, I expect Officer Rogers to burst into the room to slap the handcuffs on. But he’s on the phone now, pacing and looking agitated as he speaks. After he hangs up, he stares at me for a long time.

  My stomach twists.

  Does he know? Has he found out that I was in prison before for murder?

  Does it even matter anymore? I’m going to prison, possibly for life. One more crime added to my name won’t make a difference.

  Officer Rogers and his partner talk to each other for a long time. I wish I could hear what they’re saying. Eventually, the partner nods and walks away while Officer Rogers makes his way to the door, his face a mask of what looks like shock.

  “Let’s go,” he says in a voice that’s much deeper than the one I’m used to.

  I stretch out my hands for him to handcuff me.

  “Not necessary,” he says and gestures for me to follow him.

  I clutch my discharge papers tight and hurry to his side. While people in the hallway stare at me, he puts a firm hand around my arm.

  I bow my head so I don’t meet anyone’s eyes. The walk to the glass doors of the hospital takes forever in my mind, but in truth, it’s only a few minutes.

  When we reach the entrance, my fears return and my body forces me to come to a halt.

  Officer Rogers nudges me a little, and I start walking again.

  I’m glad he didn’t handcuff me. The humiliation would have been too much to bear.

  Outside the building is chaos. Chanting people are everywhere. They’re holding signs and calling out my name. The word murderer is tossed around like a ping pong ball. I cover my ear with my hand to try and block out the noises, something a child would do.

  As Officer Rogers pushes me through the crowd, one of his hands rested in the space between my shoulder blades, something lands on my cheek and starts sliding down my skin. It’s not the first time someone has spat on me. It hurts as much as it did back then.

  “Keep moving,” Officer Rogers says over the noise while urging people to make way.

  We finally make it to the police car, and he guides me into the backseat and slams the door shut.

  Hands slap my window and fists hit the top of the car, making me jump.

  I sigh with relief when Officer Rogers gets behind the wheel. I want to get away from the angry crowd, but I’m sure more people will be waiting at our destination. That’s how it was last time.

  After a few honks of the car horn, the vehicle lurches forward and protesters jump out of the way.

  “Are you all right back there?” Officer Rogers asks when we finally leave the angry crowd behind.

  “Yeah,” I say. Why does he care? If he weren’t a cop, he’d probably be among the people begging for my severe punishment. The people of Sanlow stick together.

  They were right all along. They speculated that it was an outsider who had killed Victor Hanes. I am an outsider to them.

  I close my eyes to block out images of me inside a stinking jail cell, huddled in a corner like an animal, but the memories flood back all at once, memories of the first day I was thrown behind bars.

  I remember being fingerprinted and photographed, and the weight of my new folded uniform as it was placed in my arms.

  When I open my eyes, I notice that we’re not headed in the direction of the police station. Even as an outsider, I’m familiar with the town.

  “Are you taking me to a jail out of town?” I ask. Sanlow is a small town, where crimes of this magnitude hardly happen, and the authorities might not have sufficient resources to handle my case.

  “You’re going where you belong,” he says, staring straight ahead. “Would you like something to drink? I have an extra Coke, but it’s pretty warm.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not thirsty…thanks.”

  “How are you feeling?” His tone is surprisingly gentle.

  “Fine.” I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “Why are you being nice to me?”

  “I’m a nice person by nature,” he says, throwing a quick glance at me.

  “But you weren’t nice to me before.”

  “Yeah. That’s because as a cop, I’m not a huge fan of criminals.”

  “But I’m still a criminal in your eyes.” I should stop talking. Conversing with a cop without a lawyer present could end up working against me. But I can’t stop myself.

  He doesn’t respond, so I change the subject. “Did you find out who broke into the house?”

  “Your house, you mean?”

  “No, the house I used to live in. It was never my house. It’s Jared Bloom’s house.”

  He glances at me again with a perplexed expression. “No, we don’t know who broke in yet. We’re still looking into it.”

  “Do you think they took anything?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I don’t know what was there before. You might have to have a look around your house and let us know if anything is missing.”

  A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “We both know that I’ll never enter that house again.”

  He says nothing. Instead of continuing our conversation, he turns on the radio to a classical music station, a message to me that the conversation is over.

  I’m glad when he opens the windows to let fresh air in, replacing the stench of cigarettes and sweat.

  I close my eyes again, trying to calm my nerves. It’s a good thing we’ll be on the road for a while. It will give me time to prepare my mind for what’s to come. As darkness falls behind my eyelids, I try not to think of anything. Not the barbed wire on the prison fence, not a damp prison cell that smells of mildew, not the sound of metal hitting metal. I focus on the sound of my heart beating and fall asleep without planning to.

  I wake up to the sounds of screaming and a lot of shouting.

  As soon as my eyes adjust, I realize that we are on Montlake Street, and all around us are people.

  “What...why are we here?”

  “Because this is your home,” Officer Rogers says, opening the door and helping me out of the car, his hand around my upper arm as he had done at the hospital.

  Two other police cars are parked on our street. There are not as many protesters present and I don’t see any signs with my name on them. But what I do see throws me for a loop.

  “I don’t understand. What’s going on?” I ask, my senses spinning out of control.

  Rachel is standing between two police officers, screaming at them. When she turns her head, our eyes meet from across the distance. She gets even more hysterical, trying to free herself from the cops. I watch in shock as handcuffs are slapped onto her wrists.

  Officer Rogers doesn’t answer my question until he has brought me to the doorstep. He turns to me with a smile that looks genuine. “Kelsey Bloom, you’re free to go. We found evidence that you did not kill Victor Hanes. Someone else finished the job.”

  “Rachel?” My eyes are still on her as a police officer puts a hand on top of her head to lower her into the vehicle. “She did it? How?” My mind is reeling with confusion.

  “That’s what we’re about to find out.” He pauses. “Take care of yourself, Mrs. Bloom.”

  “I’m really free? But what about Jared? I was being accused of setting him on fire.” Why the hell am I trying to remind him of my crimes? I guess it’s my mind trying to make sense of everything that’s happening too fast. I was so convinced I was going to prison.

  “We know it was self-defense. Some of your neighbors confirmed that they heard you screaming several times that night. Someone also saw your husband attacking you through your dining room window. There was also a receipt to prove he bought the gasoline. You were only trying to save your own life.”

  “I can’t believe it,” I say, sinking onto the doorstep, too weak to stand.

  “You better believe it.” He glances at his watch. “I have to go. But we might contact you if we need any more information. For now, make sure you get the doors a
nd windows repaired, and take care of the fire damage. If you see anything suspicious, call us immediately.”

  I don’t say anything as I stare at the police car with a hysterical Rachel in the backseat. She’s out of control, slamming the back of her head against the headrest. Even though the windows are closed, I can hear her screams.

  Once the police cars drive off, people start to disperse and I’m left reeling from the sudden rush of both relief and confusion.

  I feel like someone who had been drowning only to be pulled out of the water without warning. I’m gasping for air as I learn to breathe again.

  Chapter 38

  I’m standing at the kitchen door, observing the scene after the fire. It’s pretty bad. Every surface is covered in black. The smell of smoke still lingers in the air.

  I’m finding it hard to believe that I survived it all, that Jared didn’t get away with murder yet again.

  “Hello,” someone calls from behind me. I jump and whirl around.

  “Linda,” I breathe. “You scared me. I didn’t hear—”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Your door is…broken.” She takes a step closer to me. “Poor Kelsey, how are you?” She places a hand on my shoulder, but I can see her peering past me into the kitchen.

  Her fake sympathy doesn’t fool me. She’s only looking for information in order to feed the Sanlow gossip mill.

  “I’m fine.” When I say nothing more, her smile wavers.

  “Look, you’ve been through so much. Is there anything I can do? You could come over for a coffee.”

  “No, I’m not staying long. I’m leaving town. I’m just here to pack a bag.” I’ll never be able to sleep in the house I was tortured in. Every corner reminds me of Jared and how close I came to death’s door.

  Linda nods her head. “I totally understand that you would not want to see anyone right now. But you must sit down for a moment. You look like you’re about to faint.” She puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me to the living room.

  I’m much too exhausted to resist.

  As soon as I’m settled on the couch, she sits down next to me. “I can’t believe Rachel killed her own husband and tried to pin it on you.”

  “How do you know she did it?”

  “She pretty much admitted it in front of everyone.” Linda places a hand on her chest. “When the cops showed up and confronted her, she started shouting that her husband was a cheater and that he didn’t deserve to live. I’ve never seen that kind of anger before.”

  Even though I would rather be alone, maybe having Linda over is not such a bad idea. She can fill in some of the blanks in my mind.

  “How did the cops find out that it was her in the first place? Did they just show up out of nowhere?”

  “From what I hear, they received an anonymous call. They all showed up an hour ago and started searching the house. I went over there thinking Rachel might need me, but she was running around like a mad woman. She kicked me out. I’ve never seen her like that. She was a completely different person.”

  “An anonymous caller? Why would they wait until now to make the call?”

  “I don’t know,” Linda says.

  “Do you know how she apparently killed Victor?”

  “No. The cops refused to talk. I only overheard conversations here and there. I was ordered to stand back while they did their job. But I’m guessing she had some help. She’s a small woman and Victor was a big man. How did she get his body into the water?”

  As soon as Linda stops talking, the wheels inside my mind start turning. I dip my head to the side. “Linda, the night that Victor disappeared, how did she seem when you went to see her?”

  “Who? Rachel?”

  “Yes. Jared mentioned that you and Don went to check up on her.”

  “That’s weird,” Linda says, frowning. “We never went to Rachel’s house that night. But you’re right, Jared did. I was at the kitchen window when I saw him ring the doorbell. It wasn’t long after they both left the house and walked down the street. I found it strange, but when we later found out about Victor’s disappearance, it was clear that he was trying to comfort her.” Linda chews on a cuticle. “Rachel was such a great actress. She fooled us all. I don’t even feel like I know her.”

  “Yeah,” I say absentmindedly. Everything is becoming clearer. I have no doubt now that Jared was involved in some way. How else would he have a video that both of them saw?

  Maybe Rachel killed Victor and asked Jared to help her get rid of the body. She must have filmed the video and showed it to Jared. If she told someone that another man slept with me, Victor and Jared’s deal would be off.

  What I don’t know is whether Jared offered Rachel money to keep her quiet. Or maybe he threatened to tell the cops what she did if she didn’t keep her mouth shut.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened between you and Jared?” Linda takes my hand. “I always thought of you two as the perfect couple. But I heard he kept you prisoner.”

  “He did,” I say truthfully. There’s no point in hiding the truth from anyone anymore. They need to see Jared for the person he is. “It was awful. He locked me up in the basement. That night, he tried to set me on fire, but ended up getting burned instead.” I burst into tears and Linda puts her arms around me. I no longer care if she’s going to tell everyone my story, that she heard it firsthand.

  “I’m sorry, Kelsey.” Linda tightens her arms around my body. “If it hurts too much, you don’t have to say anything more.”

  I’m so shocked about her words that I pull back. There are tears in her eyes.

  “My grandfather abused my grandmother up until his death,” she says. “He did terrible things to her, including kicking her in the ribs until they were broken. She never left him. You were brave enough to fight back.”

  “Thank you, Linda, for sharing that with me.”

  “Are you really leaving town?” Linda dabs the tears from her cheeks with her fingertips.

  “Yes, but only after the cops tell me it’s fine for me to leave. They might have more questions about Jared. If you don’t mind me asking, how is Don doing?” I inspect my fingernails. “I mean, Jared is his friend. How is he handling it?”

  “Surprisingly well. For some reason, he seems to be in a rather good mood.”

  Of course, he is. Since Jared and Victor are no longer getting the money, it all goes to him.

  “Do you think he will defend Jared in court?” I ask.

  “I don’t think so. We have actually talked about leaving town as well, but not right away. This town is no longer the same for us. It’s tainted.”

  I nod. They want to start a new life in another place with all their money. I can’t help wondering whether Linda knows about it. But I don’t care. All I care about is that I have my freedom back, and if all goes well, the cops will not find out that I’m on the run.

  After Linda leaves, I search the house for my phone. I find it in Jared’s office, tucked at the back of a drawer. While it’s charging, I throw a few necessities into a bag.

  It suddenly dawns on me that I have no money. I can’t even afford to sleep in a motel.

  I sink down onto the bed and glare at the handcuffs that still hang from the headboard, a nasty memory.

  After staring at the handcuffs for a while, I search the room for my backpack to see if my purse is still inside. I don’t find it. Jared must have hidden it somewhere or thrown it away. He probably also locked me out of the account I had access to.

  When my phone has charged enough, I switch it on and go online. My stomach is in knots as I type in my old name.

  Lacie Pullman

  I haven’t searched for that name in months. I worked so hard to forget, to pretend the person I used to be never existed, to live my life as if I didn’t have a dark past.

  What I read about her in the online articles is not what I expected.

  My heart is pounding as I click on the first one from a year ago.


  Shocking new update on the Granny murderer...

  Lacie Pullman, who was believed to have murdered her grandmother at the age of seventeen, has still not been found. According to the authorities, she escaped while being transferred to a Missoula hospital for treatment. The police vehicle was involved in an accident that killed both of the guards escorting her, but Lacie was never seen again.

  Some believe she died that night, that maybe she managed to escape from the vehicle, but later succumbed to her injuries. The question is, where is her corpse?

  If Lacie died that night, she will never know about the shocking twist in her case.

  Two weeks ago, Amy Pierce, an elderly woman dying of cancer, who claims to have been friends with Lacie’s grandmother, Adeline Pullman, came forward to prove that Lacie was sent to prison for a crime she did not commit, a crime she spent ten years in prison for.

  According to the local authorities, she had sufficient evidence to prove that Lacie’s grandmother had carefully planned her own death and had wanted from the start to blame it on her granddaughter.

  As the words sink in, my phone slips from my hand and drops to the floor. I pick it up again and read the article all over again. It’s not real. It can’t be real. Too much good can’t happen to me all at once.

  I return to the search engine in search for more articles. They all report the same story. Even one of the cops who had led the investigation admitted I was innocent.

  If only I had known all this before, I would never have gone through everything that I did. I would never have worked as a stripper. I would never have met Garry or Jared. I would have lived a completely different life.

  Maybe I would not even have known the pain of losing a child.

  In a daze, I stumble out of the bedroom and return to Jared’s office. I drop into his leather desk chair. My stomach turns immediately. Everything smells of him. The scent is powerful enough to awaken all the unpleasant memories.

  To shut them out, I close my eyes and lean forward to rest my forehead on the desk, the place he would normally put his laptop. My head snaps up.