Do Not Disturb: An addictive psychological thriller

by Freida McFadden

  I wrench the window open, trying to hear their conversation. But they’re too far away, and I only catch a few snippets. I hear him call her Christina. She calls him Nicky, and then she reaches out and adjusts the crooked collar of his shirt. He grins at her.

  I know that look.

  Then they go into the motel together. My heart is pounding as they disappear from my sight. Despite what I saw, it’s hard for me to believe Nick is cheating on me. He’s not like that. He’s a good person. He wouldn’t cheat. He wouldn’t.

  I fumble for my phone and pick his number out from the favorites. After a couple of rings, he picks up. “Rosie? Is everything okay?”

  I never call him. It’s not surprising he thinks something terrible has happened. “Yes, I just…” I wrack my brain, trying to think of a plausible reason for having called him randomly. “I was wondering if, um, you were going to come back for lunch today.”

  “I don’t know, Rosie.” He sounds distracted. “But don’t worry. I put that sandwich on the dresser for you. Do you see it?”

  I look across the room and see the turkey sandwich he made for me. He even sliced it in half. “Yes. Thank you. I just thought…”

  There are voices in the background. Nick is talking to somebody else, but his voice is muffled like he’s got his hand over the phone. When he comes back, he still sounds distracted. “Listen, Rosie. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later.”

  Before I can say another word, he’s hung up on me.

  _____

  “Rosalie, you are a million miles away.”

  I blink my eyes, focusing on Greta, who is sitting on our bed, a plate on her lap. She brought me a plate of food as well. Greta is a spectacular cook, maybe even better than I am. And certainly better than Nick, whose repertoire includes mostly sandwiches and pasta and overcooked eggs. But no matter what they bring to me, I can’t eat more than about a quarter of it—if that. I have no appetite anymore.

  “Sorry.” I push the goulash around my plate. I’ve eaten about three bites. “I… I guess I’m not very hungry today.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” I take a gulp from my water glass, thinking of Nick and that gorgeous blonde. “But, um, is there a guest staying at the motel now?”

  Greta nods. “Yes. I believe so. She came a few days ago.”

  I want to blurt out the question that’s been running through my head. Do you think Nick is cheating on me with this woman? But I can’t get myself to say the words.

  “Has Nick been in her room much?” I finally ask.

  Greta seems surprised by my question. She adores Nick and believes the best of him. She is convinced he is my Prince Charming, and that he and I will live happily ever after. She thinks every man is like her Bernie.

  “Not really,” she finally says.

  “Oh.”

  Her answer doesn’t make me feel much better though. What does she know, anyway? If only I could see better into the room. Then I could reassure myself that nothing is happening.

  “Greta,” I say. “Do you have a pair of binoculars?”

  She blinks at me. “Binoculars?”

  “Like, in your room?”

  She tilts her head. “I believe so. I have a pair in my trunk. They’re old, but binoculars do not expire.”

  “Do you think I could borrow them?”

  “Borrow them?”

  “Yes, I…” I force a smile onto my lips, which feel very stiff, like rubber. “I thought I might do some birdwatching. It would help pass the time.”

  Greta may be a romantic and she may be old, but she’s not stupid. She looks beyond my shoulder, out the window. Her face falls. “Oh, Rosalie…”

  “Please, Greta.” I drop my nearly full plate on top of the dresser. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that. It would make me feel better about everything.”

  “You must trust your husband, Rosalie.”

  “But—”

  “Trust Nick. He is a good man.”

  “Look, I just…” I take a breath. “I’m stuck here all day, staring out the window. I’d feel better if I could see what was going on in the hotel. You know?”

  “It’s a mistake.”

  I squeeze my right hand into a fist. “I don’t care.”

  We are both quiet for a moment. Greta pushes her goulash around with her fork. Seems like she’s lost her appetite too. Between me, Nick, and Greta, all three of us have lost weight in the last couple of years. I seem to have that effect on people.

  “Can I have them or not?” I finally say.

  Greta lets out a long sigh. “I will look in my trunk. See if I can find them.”

  Later in the afternoon, Greta brings me a dusty old pair of binoculars. I stash them at the bottom of a drawer, where Nick is unlikely to come across them. I feel a rush of relief when I get them in my hands. I didn’t think Greta would really come through for me.

  But it turns out she was absolutely right.

  The binoculars are a huge mistake.

  Chapter 30

  The sun is down and Nick still hasn’t gotten back yet.

  My back is aching from being in the chair all day. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been so stubborn about not doing physical therapy. I want to get back into bed on my own, but every time I try it, I feel like I’m about to fall. So I always let Nick help me.

  I was watching television most of the afternoon, but then I got sick of it and moved to the window. Now I’m watching the moon. It’s a full moon tonight—a perfect circle, marred only by the dark smudges that almost look like a man’s face. There’s something soothing about looking up at that bright white spot in the sky.

  And then some movement in one of the windows at the motel catches my eye.

  It’s that woman’s room. Christina.

  Even though I shouldn’t do it, I take out the pair of binoculars from the dresser drawer where I stashed them. I peer through the lenses and I finally get a good look at this girl, Christina.

  She’s beautiful. When I was at my best, I could’ve given her a run for her money. But not now. Not even close. She has long blond hair that shines in the moonlight and breasts that strain at the fabric of her T-shirt. I feel a jolt of jealousy, but I try to push it away. I trust Nick. He loves me.

  I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the window. I watch as Christina picks up a brush and runs it through her luxurious blond hair. My hand instinctively goes to my own hair, which has become brittle in the last few years. She smiles at her own reflection—she likes what she sees.

  Watching that woman doll herself up makes me miss being pretty. Maybe Nick is right. Maybe I would feel better if I got out of bed more often. Ran a comb through my hair. Put on a dress… Or at least something besides sweatpants or a nightgown.

  Something gets Christina’s attention. She looks up and walks over to the door. She cracks it open and…

  It’s Nick.

  What is my husband doing in this woman’s room?

  I watch them through the binoculars, my heart pounding. They’re just talking. There’s nothing wrong with talking, is there? I mean, yes, they’re standing very close to each other. And now she’s got her hand on his shoulder. But that’s okay. They’re just talking, for God’s sake. Nick isn’t a cheater. He’s a good guy.

  I watch his expression through the lenses. He’s smiling at her. He looks happy in a way I haven’t seen him look in a long time.

  And then he leans forward and kisses her.

  My heart sinks into my stomach as I watch my husband kiss another woman. And he’s not just kissing her. They’re making out. This isn’t the first time, either. You can just tell.

  I drop the binoculars on my lap like they’re burning.

  I take a deep breath, my hands trembling. That bastard. That absolute bastard. He’s going to be sorry for this.

  I fumble for the binoculars again. I look through Christina’s window, but they’re gone. At least, they’re out of my line of sight.
Which means they’re probably on the bed.

  I’m going to kill him.

  It’s an hour later when I hear his keys in the lock for the front door. An hour. Whistling again as his footsteps grow louder up the stairs. A vein pulses in my temple.

  “Hey, Rosie,” he says as he comes into our bedroom. “What’s up?”

  I want to punch him in the face. What’s up? He knows very well what’s up. He knows all I’ve done is sit here all day, so why would he ask me that? He’s the one who was across the way, having sex with another woman.

  “Get out,” I say.

  He freezes. “What?”

  “You heard me.” I look him dead in the eyes. “We’re done. I want you out.”

  “Rosie…” His eyes dart around the room. “What’s wrong? Why are you so upset?

  “Are you serious?” I spit at him. “Are you really going to pretend like you’re not fucking a guest at the motel?”

  His mouth falls open and all the color drains out of his face. “You…”

  “I saw you through the window, you asshole.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Get out. I never want to see you again. Go spend the night with your girlfriend.”

  To his credit, he doesn’t deny it. “I didn’t have sex with her. I just kissed her. That’s it.”

  “Oh, that’s it?”

  “Look,” he says, “you and I haven’t… I mean, not in a year…”

  “You’re absolutely right. Our marriage is over. And now you’re free. Congratulations.”

  “Rosie…”

  “I said, get out, Nick.”

  I don’t know what I expected Nick to do, but what I don’t expect is the way his eyes fill with tears. I’ve never seen him cry before. He even kept it together in front of me when we lost the baby, although I caught him with bloodshot eyes a couple of times. But now I’m scared he might lose it.

  “Rosie.” He sits beside me on the bed and runs a shaking hand through his hair. “Please don’t do this. I love you. I made a huge mistake. Don’t do this.”

  “I’m sorry. My mind is made up.”

  “But…” He looks down at my legs on the footrests of my chair. “What will you do?”

  “I’ll figure it out. It’s not your problem anymore.”

  I have a very specific plan for what I’m going to do after Nick leaves. I have a lot of medications in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. I can just barely stand well enough to reach them. My plan is to take all of them.

  It will be a relief to be done.

  “Please don’t do this.” Nick reaches for my hand, and I don’t shake him away. “Rosie, I love you. I’m so sorry. Please. Give me another chance.”

  I look into his brown eyes. All I see is love. He doesn’t seem like he’s sticking around because he feels sorry for me or out of obligation. He wants to be with me. Even after everything I’ve put him through, he still wants to be with me.

  But I keep seeing his arms around that other woman. The way he kissed her… he certainly wasn’t thinking of me then.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I can’t forgive you.”

  “Please, Rosie.” He squeezes my hand. “You have to give me one more chance. Please let me make this right. I can make this right. I swear.”

  “Nick…”

  “I love you.” A single tear gathers in the corner of his right eye, but he swipes at it before it falls. “I promise you, I’m going to fix this.”

  “Get out.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll go. For now.”

  Whatever. I’ll be dead soon anyway.

  He glances at our bed, where we’ve been sleeping side-by-side for the last year without even touching each other. “Do you need help getting into…?”

  “No. I’ll manage.”

  He looks doubtful, but he stands up—something I can’t do anymore without support. He takes one last look at me, then he leaves the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

  I wonder if this is what that psychic foretold at the carnival all those years ago. He’s effectively killed me, even if he doesn’t know it.

  I consider enacting my plan right then and there. I’m so sick of everything—it will be nice to just be done. Then again, Nick might come back and save me. And if he discovers what I was trying to do, he’ll have me put in a psych ward. As if someone in my situation would have to be crazy to want to kill themselves.

  Ultimately, I’m just too tired to go through with it. I’m literally too tired to kill myself.

  Instead, I attempt to transfer myself to the bed. I’ve done it a handful of times, but usually with Nick nearby. Dr. Heller tried to convince me this is something I should be able to do myself, but I couldn’t motivate myself to go to physical therapy and learn. Now I’m paying the price. I put one arm on the bed, supporting myself. I hold on to the armrest of my wheelchair, preparing to scoot myself over.

  It should be no surprise that I fall. But somehow, it still is.

  I spill out onto the floor in front of my chair. The impact sends a sharp pain through my right hip, and my wheelchair overturns. And moreover, the wind is knocked out of me. For a moment, I just sit there, stunned.

  And then I have to figure out what to do. I’m lying on the floor of my bedroom, incapable of getting back into my chair or onto the bed. I don’t have any idea what to do next. Crawl over to my phone? Call 911?

  I wish I hadn’t been so lazy and just taken those pills like I planned.

  I drop my head down against the floor and sob. I hate what my life has become. I used to have everything. A loving, faithful, sexy husband. The job of my dreams. A baby on the way. And then in three short years, I lost it all.

  I wish the floor would just swallow me up.

  I’ve been sobbing for several seconds when I hear the soft knock on the door. At first, I think I must be hearing things. Then the voice: “Rosie?”

  It’s Nick.

  I want to tell him to go away, but even more, I want to get off the floor. “Yes. Come in.”

  He opens the door and catches me lying there with my red eyes and wet face. “Rosie,” he murmurs.

  The tears stream down my face. “Nick…”

  He bends down beside me, and very, very gently, he lifts me off the floor. He lowers me down on the bed, then he crawls into the bed beside me. He brushes a wet strand of hair from my face as he looks into my eyes. And then, very slowly and gently, he dips his lips onto mine.

  We make love for the first time in almost a year. I fall asleep curled up in Nick’s arms.

  Chapter 31

  I wake up in the middle of the night and Nick’s side of the bed is empty.

  I rub my eyes until the clock by our bed comes into focus. It’s after three in the morning. I listen for the sound of running water coming from the bathroom but I hear nothing. The house is silent.

  “Nick?” I call out.

  No answer.

  My stomach churns. I thought Nick and I reconnected last night, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was a disappointment to him and made him realize he wanted that other woman more. Maybe that’s where he is right now. With her.

  Before I can stop myself, I fumble around in the drawer next to my bed, feeling around for the binoculars. My fingers close around the cool metal and I pull them out. I’m close enough to the window that I have a good view of the motel. Of Christina’s room.

  I focus the binoculars on the room where I saw Nick kissing that woman earlier tonight. But even with the lenses, I can’t see a thing. The room is dark.

  Damn.

  I sit up in bed, propping myself up against the pillows, trying to get a better look. And that’s when I see some movement along the back of the motel. Near the dumpster.

  It’s Nick.

  What’s he doing over there?

  I focus in the best I can on his face. He’s not smiling. He dumps a black trash bag in the dumpster, then he wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He takes a step back, staring at the
dumpster. He wipes his hands on his jeans, then starts back to our house.

  What the hell was he doing there at three in the morning?

  When Nick disappears from my view, I yank the drawer open and throw the binoculars inside before he can see them. My heart is pounding as his footsteps grow louder on the stairs outside the door. A few moments later, Nick’s silhouette appears in the doorway.

  The first thing he does is go to the bathroom. He washes his hands for at least two minutes. There’s a rule that you’re supposed to sing the happy birthday song to know how long to wash, but he washes far longer than that. He finally comes out of the bathroom, strips off his jeans and T-shirt, and quietly slips onto the mattress beside me, trying hard not to wake me.

  Too bad I’m already wide awake.

  “Nick?” I whisper.

  I hear him inhale sharply beside me. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were awake.”

  I wait for him to explain where he just was. When he says nothing, I say, “Where did you go?”

  “I just…” He shifts on the mattress next to me. “I needed some fresh air.”

  He lied to me. He wasn’t just getting some fresh air. He was doing something by the motel. But why would he lie?

  Nick reaches over and wraps his arm around me. He tugs my body close to his. “I’m sorry I woke you up. Go back to sleep.”

  I close my eyes but it takes a long time to go back to sleep.

  _____

  When Nick helps me into my wheelchair the next morning, I hear a noise coming from outside the window. I almost reach for my binoculars, but I can’t do that with Nick here. Anyway, I don’t need my binoculars to see what the noise is. There’s a garbage truck right outside the window.

  I keep my eyes pinned on the garbage truck. It goes around the side of the motel. I watch as the contents of the garbage bin are emptied into the truck. In another couple of hours, everything in the bin will be at the local dump.

  “I forgot today is garbage day,” I say.

  Nick raises his eyebrows at me. “Yeah, it’s always Monday. I guess it’s been a while since you… Anyway, yes. The garbage truck is always here bright and early Monday morning.”