“Cassie, stop it!”
Ryan’s face was flushed with rage. In that moment she couldn’t believe how ugly he looked, with his narrowed eyes and twisted, snarling mouth.
Cassie slammed her glass down before continuing.
“I happened to open your car’s cubbyhole. What a shame you hadn’t had time to move the wire cutters you used to disable my car. I should have realized what a coincidence it was that my car was sabotaged the day before your wife came back. You were making sure you’d have an on-site babysitter for your romantic jaunts. Definitely a good way to stop me from leaving in a huff—especially since you were the hero of the day and said you’d look after me. Ryan, I have the utmost contempt for you. You should seek professional help to deal with your psychological problem. Maybe they can fix you.”
Cassie spat out the words.
“I’m leaving first thing tomorrow, and before I go, I’m going to bring your dear wife up to date on what’s been happening here. She and I can have a chat over a nice cup of coffee so that she knows exactly what kind of a pathological liar she married.”
Lightning flashed above the ocean and a thunderclap shook the whole house.
As she turned, Ryan grabbed her arm, and Cassie shrieked as he yanked her back. His fingers closed around her bicep, clamping hard, and she felt a sudden thrill of fear.
Had she thought he’d just lie down and accept this?
“You will not,” he spat at her. “And I’ll tell you why. If you say one word to my wife about this—if you even hint at it—I’m going to report you for child abuse.”
Cassie stared at him, horrified. Report her for abuse? What was he talking about?
Ryan raised his voice, almost shouting, and Cassie realized that he was far angrier than she’d realized.
“For child abuse. I will call the social workers to come and examine the children and they will find bruises. There will be evidence for them to see, I promise you that.”
She stared at him, appalled by what he was implying—that he would hurt them, and blame it on her. How could a father do such a thing to his own children? This wasn’t a joke, he wasn’t saying it lightly. He was stating it as fact.
Cassie didn’t want to speak another word to him. If it had been her own safety at stake, she wouldn’t have tried, but now that he’d threatened Dylan and Madison, she had to stand up for them.
“Ryan, please, not your own children! You can’t—” she began.
Enraged, he shouted her down, with her arm still trapped in his vise-like grip.
“I can and I will. While we’re about it, I’ll be shocked to discover that you don’t have the correct work permit. I’ll tell them you lied to me and I’ll cooperate fully to have you penalized, fined, and deported—after you’ve served your jail time for the abuse.”
Cassie had no words left. The extent of his threats had silenced her. What he’d said was beyond shocking; she felt crushed by the viciousness of his intent.
Lightning flashed, brightening the scene in blue-white for an eerie moment.
Ryan continued in a quieter tone.
“You stupid little girl. If you think you are going to do anything to compromise my plans, you are wrong. Trish is loaning my business a large amount of cash, and I’m not letting anything jeopardize this. Particularly not your hysterical behavior. There will be no complaining, no doing anything except what you’ve been hired to do. You will shut up and grow up, and keep the children happy until I tell you that you can leave. Understand?”
She couldn’t speak, but managed a nod.
“So for now, you—are going—nowhere.”
Ryan gave a final wrench of her arm before releasing it so suddenly Cassie nearly fell over.
Her arm was throbbing, and all she could think of was getting away from him. She staggered back, found her balance, and fumbled her way through the glass doors and back into the safety of the family room.
Her breath was coming in sharp, ragged sobs.
She was petrified by the violent side Ryan had revealed. Under that handsome, charming façade lurked a pathological liar who was prepared to do anything—threaten, damage, and harm—to protect himself.
What had the children gone through in the past? Had Ryan hurt them before? How could she defend them when she herself was an illegal worker who was now being threatened with deportation?
Cassie knew she had to find a way to handle this situation, for the children’s safety, to prevent Ryan from following through on his appalling threats, but she feared it was too late. She’d lost control of the situation, and whatever trust he’d had in her was gone.
She should have remembered Dylan’s warning, that his dad got “weird” when you tried to call him out on a lie.
Weird was an understatement. Ryan had become totally sociopathic.
What an utter fool she’d been to believe him, to fall for him, and what an idiot she’d been to think she could have the last word.
All she had done was reveal her hand, and now he had her in his power.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Cassie was hiding under the bed, her hand tightly clasped in Jacqui’s.
They could hear her father in the room downstairs. He was on the rampage, as Jacqui called it. Cassie didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she knew it sounded scary. It explained why it was important that they hide, because the word was threatening and evil, just like his actions.
Rampage.
It meant shouting, swearing, the smashing of glass, and Cassie knew the next day they would have to walk carefully, because the splinters could hide, sharp and deadly. She could be walking, or kneel down, only to find a piece of glass sliding into her skin, invisible apart from the pain and the dark welling of blood.
“We’ll be OK if we can reach the sea,” Cassie whispered.
“Yes,” Jacqui replied.
Over the commotion, Cassie could hear the sea; the constant sighing of surf, even though she knew it was nowhere near their small apartment. The wind must be in the right direction because she could smell it, too.
She could hear something else now; the tramp of heavy footsteps that meant her father was coming upstairs, and she squeezed Jacqui’s hand more tightly, shrinking back into that dark, claustrophobic place between the bed and the wall.
“He’s going to hurt us this time,” she whispered. Helplessness paralyzed her as she thought about how big he was; how his angry presence would seem to fill the room as he burst inside, and how strong he could be when he was drunk.
“We need to get out,” Jacqui said.
“He’s coming. There’s no time.”
“There’s time if we’re quick. Follow me.”
She dragged Cassie out from the bed and over to the windowsill. The room was gloomy and the footsteps sounded louder. Her father must be right outside the door, and Cassie felt exposed. The room was freezing. The window was wide open and an icy breeze was blasting through it, lashing the curtain.
“Help me,” Cassie pleaded, because the drop from the window was immense. They were high up, so high she couldn’t see the ground below, only hear that faraway sound of the sea, and her father’s angry roar.
“I can’t,” Jacqui whispered, and suddenly she let go of Cassie’s hand. Cassie was all alone, and Jacqui was fading away, screaming with laughter as she disappeared.
“No!” Cassie yelled, but Jacqui was gone, leaving only a trace of ghostly laughter behind.
There was no time to get back under the bed. Her father was wrenching at the door. Jacqui had lured her out from her hiding place and now the only escape was out of the high window. Cassie stared down, terrified, knowing she would have to jump.
“It’s a dream, you’ll be OK,” she told herself. “Jump. Just jump and wake up.”
But something was stopping her and she couldn’t do it.
She was cold. So cold, and the grass was wet under her feet.
With a gasp, Cassie woke, to find herself outside.
W
here was she? The sea was so loud.
She took a disoriented step forward and realized, to her horror, she was almost at the edge of the bluff. Another step and she would have fallen over the cliff, tumbling all the way down to where the wicked rocks waited in the darkness.
With a cry she reeled back, twisting away from the dark drop.
“How the hell?”
A light rain was still falling. Her bare feet were freezing and her pajamas were damp and cold.
She lurched back toward the house, where the outside lanterns cast a pool of light onto the paving, illuminating the icy drizzle with a golden glow.
Cassie was shuddering with cold. This hadn’t felt like sleepwalking. It had been so real. She could so easily have jumped in her dream and then what?
What would have happened to her?
The front door was open and rain had blown in, spattering the hallway rug. It felt soft under her bare feet. She closed the door, thinking she should go and have a hot bath, because she was chilled to her bones.
As she closed the front door, the events of the previous night came rushing back to her. She started shivering afresh, even though she knew it was more from shock than cold this time.
She had unleashed a monster.
In her anger, she hadn’t visualized the consequences. She hadn’t thought about what it might mean to Ryan to be accused of being a liar, and what lengths he’d go to in order to protect himself. She visualized him grasping Madison’s slim arm and crushing it with his strong hands, intent on causing visible bruises.
Would he threaten Madison into silence, or force her to say Cassie had done it? Cassie couldn’t bear to think what he might be capable of.
Additionally, she hadn’t realized how financially dependent he was on Trish. The story about his successful business had been another lie. It was struggling and in debt—the signs had all been there and she’d blissfully ignored them.
Ryan couldn’t afford to have anything go wrong.
Cassie feared that for the next few days, she would be in actual danger now that Ryan had dropped his pretense and shown her who he really was.
Calling him a liar meant crossing a line, and when you crossed that line, you became his enemy and all bets were off.
She guessed people had learned to tread carefully around him, and even enable him, rather than face the dark side of his personality, and that was why he got away with doing what he did.
Cassie headed back to the bedroom, but as she passed the family room, she noticed the porch light was still on.
Was the glass door open or closed? It looked open, and the room was drafty.
Cassie headed out to check, glancing at the clock as she passed. It was a few minutes after three in the morning.
The door was open, and Cassie was about to close it when she stopped.
There was something—no, someone—in the chair nearest the balcony. She could see legs stretched out and a dangling arm. It was Ryan. He must have drunk himself into oblivion. She could see a second bottle standing beside the first.
Even with a jacket, he could have serious exposure by now, passed out there in the icy cold. Pushing aside the thought that he deserved it, Cassie went out to wake him up.
“Ryan,” she said, shaking his shoulder.
His head lolled to the side.
It was freezing out here, and Cassie was losing patience.
“Wake up!”
She shook him again, harder. When there was no response, with a tendril of worry taking root inside her, Cassie walked around the chair to stand in front of him.
She stared down, horrified.
His face was pale and hideously bloated. His blue eyes were wide open, staring sightlessly ahead. His mouth hung slack, and she saw that he’d vomited—there was a huge crimson stain running down his chin and over the front of his shirt.
Red wine—or—?
“Ryan!” she screamed. “Wake up, wake up, please, tell me you’re OK!”
Take his pulse, take his pulse, she told herself, and her shaking fingers closed around his wrist.
She couldn’t feel anything, not the faintest tremor.
“He’s dead,” Cassie whispered.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Cassie backed away into the safety of the family room, unable to take her eyes off Ryan’s slumped, immobile form.
“He’s dead,” she repeated.
Shuddering with shock, she hugged herself, remembering how his wrist had felt when she’d tried to take his pulse. It had been clammy and icy cold, like a piece of meat and not like a wrist at all. That made her feel nauseous and she swallowed hard.
She had to get help. She should wake someone.
Cassie’s brain felt sluggish with shock and fright. Doing what had to be done felt impossible. She didn’t know how to call emergency services, or who should respond.
She would have to ask someone, but not the children. They couldn’t know their father had died.
Trish. She should wake Trish.
Dread curdled in her stomach as she thought of what Trish’s reaction might be.
Cassie stumbled down the corridor and knocked on the bedroom door.
“Trish!” she called softly, realizing she was sobbing out the word. “Trish, can I come in?”
Fearing that Trish had passed out, and that any more noise might wake the children, Cassie opened the door and stepped into the room. It smelled of perfume and sleep. She fumbled for the light switch and snapped it on, as Trish sat up, blinking.
Her hair was mussed and makeup was smudged under her eyes. Cassie guessed she’d been too drunk to remove it properly, and she still seemed groggy.
“Please come quickly. Something terrible has happened,” Cassie whispered.
“What? What is it?”
“Ryan is dead. He’s outside on the balcony. I just found him there.”
“What?”
Trish jerked upright.
“You’re kidding me!”
She glanced at the empty bed beside her as if expecting to see her husband there.
“I’m not. Please, come quick.”
Trish scrambled out of bed and headed down the hall at a run, with Cassie following close behind.
“Oh, Lord,” Trish said when she saw him. Her face crumpled and Cassie felt tears welling inside her as Trish stumbled forward, dropping to her knees, grasping his wrist to take his pulse just as Cassie had done.
Trish hadn’t known he’d been a liar and an adulterer. Cassie had only ever seen him treat Trish like a princess.
What must she be feeling now?
Cassie couldn’t look anymore. She felt consumed by guilt. She went back inside and collapsed on the couch, appalled by the prospect of breaking this news to the children.
A minute later, Trish joined her.
She seemed fully alert, the earlier grogginess had gone. She looked shocked, and although she hadn’t been visibly crying, Cassie got the impression she was only managing to hold things together with a huge effort.
“I’m going to call the police. The children must stay away. Dylan’s bedroom will be best, as it’s biggest. Will you wait there with them? I’ve no idea how long it will take for the police to arrive.”
“I’ll do that,” Cassie agreed.
She detoured to her room and pulled on the warmest clothing she could find, hoping that the extra layers might stop the shivering that seemed to come from deep inside her core. She didn’t know how she would manage to console the children when she felt as if she was falling apart herself.
It took her two tries to put her top on the right way around, and she was shaking so badly she could hardly zip her fluffy boots.
When she was dressed, Cassie gently woke Madison, helped her dress in a tracksuit and trainers, and then shepherded her through to Dylan’s room.
Dylan was already awake. Cassie realized he was a very light sleeper, and she felt apprehensive as she wondered how much he’d heard.
“Dylan, can you
move over? Madison’s tired. She needs to lie down.”
“Why’s she in here?”
Cassie couldn’t tell him the truth.
“Your mum told me to bring her here. She’ll explain everything soon. Try to go back to sleep now.”
“Where’s Dad?” Madison asked in sleepy, querulous tones.
Cassie looked down at her in consternation, wondering what on earth she should say.
“I think something’s happened to Dad,” Dylan said.
“What?” Madison sat up. “What’s happened?”
Cassie fought to stop herself from breaking down. She remembered the happy family times in the kitchen, the jokes that Ryan had shared with his children and how he had cooked for them. They didn’t know that he had threatened to harm them if Cassie stepped out of line. They only knew him as their dad, the center of their world.
It wasn’t up to her to break this news. She wasn’t even the right person to be comforting them now. They needed their mother. Why wasn’t she here? How long did it take to call the police?
“I’m not sure what has happened,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even, because a wobble would lead to sobs and complete loss of control.
Dylan was craning his head, peering out the window.
“I can see a car coming,” he announced, and Madison joined him, kneeling on the bed and pressing her face against the glass.
“Three more cars,” Dylan observed.
Cassie bit her lip. The more cars and the more police, the more time this was likely to take. She needed Trish to get here before the children started to panic, and already Dylan’s guess had placed her in an impossible position.
“What are they unloading?” Madison asked anxiously.
“That’s a stretcher.”
“Is Dad sick? Is he hurt?”
Cassie bit her lip.
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