Breathe, he told himself. Calm down. He clenched his fist and released it. Same with his teeth. Finally, driving back out to Interstate forty-five, he aimed the car back toward Galveston. She might be going out of town now, but she’d be back. He knew she would. She never put much distance between herself and Martin and Mary.
His timetable would have to change, but not his goals. She hadn’t beaten him yet.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
DENA
“Hello,” Dena said into her cell after she’d fumbled it a few times early Sunday morning, the middle of the night as far as she was concerned.
“Good news,” Zack said. “I’m for sure coming home late Wednesday night.” There was a hollow sound after he spoke.
Still half-asleep, Dena struggled to sit up.
“Dena. Are you there?” Zack’s voice sounded stilted.
“Yes. That’s great.”
“You have to wait a bit before you speak and talk slowly. Because of the distance there’s some lag time. Do you understand?”
Dena waited for the hollow tone to go away, then said, “Yes.”
“Henry was able to get here a little sooner, like I’d hoped, so I’ll definitely be there Wednesday night.”
“That’s great. How’s everything going?”
“Fine. How are the kids?”
“They’re okay. We played games and baked cookies yesterday. We’re going to go to church this morning. Can you believe it?”
Zack laughed. “No. What prompted you to do that?”
Waiting a beat, Dena said, “Melissa came home from one of her friends’ houses yesterday wanting to know why we never went to church like they did.”
“Is she even old enough to know what church is?”
“Well, really she asked about Sunday school. She said she wanted to go to school on Sundays like her friend.”
“Maybe we can get back into going regularly from now on.”
“I think I’d like that,” Dena said. “The kids would enjoy Sunday school.”
“I have to hang up. They’re having the cocktail party in a few minutes. I’m expected to be there.”
“I bet you’re tired,” Dena said.
“I only have to go for a little while, then I have to get ready to leave.”
“I’ll see you Wednesday,” Dena said and yawned.
“Listen, don’t wait up. It’ll be very late when I get there. Go ahead and go to bed, and I’ll make sure to wake you up when I get in.”
“Okay. No problem.”
“I have to hang up now.”
“Okay, see you soon.”
“Hug the kids for me.”
“I will. ‘Bye.”
There was silence. The phone clicked in her ear. She sat on the side of the bed, thinking of the things she’d planned to get done while he was gone. She would get up and accomplish everything she could in the next few days so she’d have time for Zack when he returned. She had a feeling they would have a lot to talk about when he came home. Like figuring out what their future as a couple would be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
ALAN SELLERS
Anger and frustration gnawed at his gut as he slipped through the Armstrong’s gate for what he hoped was the last time. He hadn’t been able to take care of Ginny because she’d been a moving target. The Armstrong woman, on the other hand, was not a moving target. He already considered taking her out as a mission accomplished. There was always time for Ginny later.
No one had been around the street. If his luck held, he’d get in and out real quick. He just had to get that key. He jogged to the picnic table and dragged it across the backyard, placing it under the kitchen window like he’d done the last time. The neighbor’s dog barked again, like the last time. He climbed up on the table and gave the window a little tug expecting it to open wide. It didn’t budge. He put both hands on it, pulling on the aluminum rim. The window moved about half an inch and then nothing. He tried slipping the lock with his pocketknife, but the window still wouldn’t open.
He wasn’t going to let a woman beat him. He had to find a way to get into that house. In the back corner stood the shed with the tools he’d checked out the last time. The door opened toward the back fence. He walked around it and yanked it open. Surely there’d be something he could use inside. He found a shovel, a rusting rake, a heavy pickax, a push-type lawn mower, and some small gardening tools, nothing that could help him get inside the house.
He closed the door and leaned against the outside. The day had started out so smoothly, not like the Saturday before. He’d gone to the charity store and gotten his old clothes. He’d slept all day the day before, resting up. It was that lawyer’s fault everything was getting messed up. He wasn’t going to let it stop him. Nothing would stop him. He’d have to think of another way to get in and get the key. He had until late Wednesday. Her old man would be arriving on the scene expecting to find her dead by then.
He walked back to the house and went from window to window, tugging and pulling. None of them opened. He dragged the picnic table back across the yard to where he’d found it. He let himself out of the gate. He hid behind a bush until he had checked the street to make sure no one was there and walked to his car.
***
Tuesday morning, Sellers hid in the hedges at the side of the lawyer’s house. It was very early when he arrived, still very dark. His would sneak into the garage as she drove away, before the door came all the way down. If it worked, he could get the key, hide out in the garage all day, and kill her that night.
He was very proud of himself. It had taken him just a couple of hours of thinking the whole thing over to come up with the idea. He’d thought about the layout of the house, about coming back with a bigger knife and trying to slip the lock, but he hadn’t wanted to waste a lot of time and energy or risk being caught. He’d started thinking about waiting until the maid got there and possibly getting inside a day early and spending the night in there, but who wanted to sleep in a garage? It was then that the idea came to him. If the lawyer was like most people, she would push on her garage door controls as she drove off, never watching to see whether the door closed or not.
His idea was brilliant. She’d be tending to her kids and watching the street, and he would roll under the door and be out of sight in seconds. He could get the key, hide in the garage, and wait. After she went to sleep, he would sneak inside and cut her throat with his fillet knife, just as he would a big fish, except he wouldn’t gut her like he would a fish or maybe he would, depending on how things were going.
If he couldn’t get inside that morning, he would try that afternoon after the maid got there and opened the garage door. He didn’t want to do that. Too many people might be around. Crossing his fingers, he waited, again. Seemed to him like that was all he did lately.
The bushes scratched his arms. The humidity must be a hundred and fifty per cent. Mosquitoes buzzed in his ears. He swatted them off the back of his neck. Finally, the sun rose. Checking his watch, he saw it was seven-thirty. A few minutes later, the garage door groaned as it rose. His hands shook. Crouching down, he tried to make himself as small as possible.
The children chattered. The car doors opened and closed. She cranked the car. It wouldn’t start. Again she cranked it. Again. Exhaust fumes billowed into his face. He covered his mouth and nose so he wouldn’t cough.
He could run up to her right then, fling open the door of her car, and slit her throat. He considered it for a few milliseconds. But he had promised the husband he wouldn’t do anything in front of the kids. He could have done it if he had moved right then. She cranked the car again. The engine sputtered to life. Black smoke rolled out from underneath. As she revved the engine, he coughed uncontrollably and pressed his hand hard against his mouth.
Through his tearing eyes, he watched as she backed into the street. The door descended as she drove away. He sprang forward and dove under it, rolling
inside. The door stopped and started going back up, but he was fast as he ran to the controls and punched them so it would continue its descent.
He was in. He coughed a few times to clear his lungs. He listened for any sounds of her return. The street was quiet. He cheered himself.
Walking toward the light coming through the window in the door from the kitchen, he mentally patted himself on the back. Few people in this world were as creative as he was. Few people would have thought out a plan so carefully. Most people would have been caught.
He found the door unlocked and went inside. There were two cereal bowls and a single coffee cup in the sink. It only confirmed what he already knew, the husband was on his trip. He saw what the problem had been with the window, too. A long stick had been placed in the window track. No wonder he couldn’t slide it open.
He ambled into the bedroom first thing to get the key from her jewelry box, careful to wipe away his fingerprints. After pocketing the key, he opened the refrigerator and, rummaging through the fruit bin, found an apple. In the den, he bit into the apple and turned on the TV. Propping his feet on a footstool, he made himself at home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
DENA
“I’m just calling to confirm tonight,” Dena said on Tuesday afternoon before tackling a pile of mail.
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ellen said. “Are you sure you want to do this, though? I have a feeling it was Zack’s idea for you to have us over for dinner while he was gone.”
“I’m positive. In fact, I’m looking forward to it. The kids are excited, too. They haven’t seen y’all in such a long time.”
“Great. And I’m eager to see them. Bob just wants to eat a home-cooked meal. He’s sick of eating in restaurants.” She chuckled.
“I hope he likes lasagna and stuffed cabbage.”
“He loves your stuffed cabbage. But why fix both? That’s an awful lot of work just for us.”
“The kids. They hate my stuffed cabbage.”
Ellen laughed again. “Little monsters. They don’t know what they’re missing.”
“Yes, but don’t tell them. I like to eat the leftovers.”
“So what can we bring? Some wine?”
“If you want. I have some white, but no red. I was going to stop off on the way home and pick some up.”
“Let me get it. What about dessert? Want me to pick up something that’ll go with the wine?”
“No, that’s okay. I’ve made a chocolate pie.” Dena’s mouth watered at the thought of putting a forkful of chocolate meringue pie into her mouth.
“You have got to be kidding. I swear you’re trying to steal Bob from me, Dena Armstrong. When did you do all this?”
Dena liked it when Ellen teased her about Bob even though they both knew he was devoted to Ellen. “Last night. Ever since Zack called on Sunday, I haven’t been able to sit still. Besides, I made the pie as a bribe for Bob.”
“For what, may I ask?”
“I thought maybe he’d look at the car. I’ve been having trouble starting it, and it seems to be getting worse. This morning I didn’t think it was going to start at all. Zack took his car to the airport, or I wouldn’t ask, but I’m afraid tomorrow I might be stuck.”
“Why didn’t you call him before? You know he doesn’t mind.”
“I thought it would be okay until this morning. I thought Zack could look at it when he got back,” Dena said. “But tomorrow morning I have early court. I don’t want to be late if it breaks down.”
“You shouldn’t have waited this long. You could have been stranded at home this morning, or the kid’s camp, or—”
“All right. All right. I hear you. Stop scolding me.” Dena laughed louder than she intended. She hoped Ellen wouldn’t think something was wrong with her.
“Okay. I’ll make sure Bob brings a change of clothes so he can fix it tonight.”
“You don’t think he’ll mind?”
“Of course not. You know how he is. In fact, do you want him to come to the office this evening to make sure you can get home?”
“Lucas promised to stick around in case I have a problem.”
After they hung up, Dena sorted her mail. Receiving mail always made her feel good ever since she was a child. At the office, she enjoyed seeing how much money she brought in, even though she would take it back out to Meredith to record and make up the deposit. If it was a copy of a responsive pleading that had been filed, she always wanted to know about it right away anyway.
One particular envelope in Tuesday’s mail had caught her eye. A thick manila envelope bore the return address of the private investigator she’d hired. Dena’s heart beat in her throat. If her afternoon schedule was not so full, she’d rip into it right then and there. She had too much scheduled, though, to be distracted by its contents if it contained what she thought. She’d save it for the privacy of home. She stuffed it into her roller bag. Her whole world could very well be turned upside down in just a matter of a few days.
CHAPTER FORTY
ALAN SELLERS
He awoke abruptly from having dozed off in the chair, an adrenaline spike hitting him until he looked at his watch and realized he had plenty of time. He cut off the TV, wiped the remote clean, and walked back into the kitchen. He wanted to find something to eat that she wouldn’t miss. In the pantry he spotted a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread. He’d make a sandwich.
A bit later, leaning against the stove, he chewed and stared into the backyard. Besides the tool shed, there was a patch of garden. A tire swing hung from a large branch of the tree in the far back corner. He didn’t know people still had tire swings. He’d never had one, but one of his friends had. Next to the tree, a kid’s red, plastic wagon lay on its side.
What would it have been like to have a house and a yard and a place to play? And why couldn’t he have been born to a family that had all that? Why did he get stuck with his father? Not that the Armstrong kids had such a better father. Their father wanted to kill their mother.
Alan didn’t know what had happened to his own mother. Maybe his father took her out one day and drowned her like he had a bag of kittens once. He didn’t think so, else why would his father get so mad when Alan had asked about her? But it could have happened. At least the Armstrong kids would know how their mother ended up.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he stuffed the remainder of the sandwich into his mouth and wiped his hands on his pants. He cleaned up and inspected the kitchen to make sure he was leaving things like he found them. Using a dishrag, he wiped the areas he had touched, congratulating himself for being so cautious, and put the rag back where he’d found it.
Back in the den, he considered watching more TV and had just settled down into the chair opposite the television when someone inserted a key in the front door lock. Alarm shot through his body. He ran through the living room and through the kitchen and jerked the garage door open at the same time as that someone closed the front door. He pulled the door closed as quietly as possible and crouched down, duckwalking around the corner to his hiding place in the tool room.
His scalp tingled and his heart drummed in his chest. No sounds came from the direction of the kitchen. He slowed his breathing and flexed his fingers to stop his hands from shaking. After he settled down, Alan glanced at his watch again. His watch said the same time as it had when he’d woken up. The damn thing had stopped.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
DENA
“I’ll get it,” Melissa hollered to her mother in response to the door chime. The little girl ran to the door, yanking it open for Ellen and Bob. It was seven p.m.
“It’s Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bob,” Melissa called over her shoulder, throwing herself at them.
Dena greeted them and scolded Melissa for opening the door before knowing who was there.
“Come in, come in. I’m in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on everythi
ng.”
“I’ll help you,” Ellen said, following her. “Juliet already gone?”
“She wanted to help, but I told her to leave a bit early for once,” Dena said.
“Uncle Bob,” Paul shrieked as he ran down the hall.
“Hi, Paul.” Bob swung him up into his arms. “How’re you doing?”
“Fine,” Paul said grinning. “How you doing?”
“Fine,” Bob said in the same tone of voice Paul had used. He carried the little boy into the kitchen where the women were wiping out wineglasses. Melissa wore a child-size apron tied around her waist. She carried a plate to the table and centered it in front of a chair before returning to the counter for the next one.
“I hear you’ve got car problems,” Bob said as he put Paul down.
“I hate to bother you with it, but I’m having trouble getting it started. I thought it would make it until Zack got back, but this morning it gave me a real scare, though this afternoon it started right up.”
“I could look at it now. How long until dinner?”
“About ten minutes. Do you mind?”
“Aren’t you going to change first?” Ellen frowned in his direction.
Bob shrugged. “Tell you what, pour me a little glass of wine to get me motivated, and I’ll just look under the hood before dinner. I’ll change after dinner and try to fix it.”
“You’re my hero,” Dena said.
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