It’s all too perfect.
As I walk up the steps to the bedroom overlooking the hotel, the knife feels heavy in my hand. I never would have thought I could do something like this, but somehow it gets easier each time. I wonder if it was easy for Quinn too. When she put that knife in Derek’s belly.
My heart aches when I think about it. I can’t believe he’s dead. I can’t believe he’ll never hold me again.
And then I’m there—in the master bedroom. I put my hand on the doorknob. I thought I might be shaky, but I’m not. I don’t know what Rosalie Baxter has in store for me behind the door. Yes, she might be in a wheelchair, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a gun. I could open the door and she could shoot me right in the face.
Somehow, I don’t think she will. And strangely enough, I’m not scared.
I throw open the door, and there she is, sitting in her wheelchair. I was right to have not been scared. As ominous as she looked when she was a shadow in the window, Rosalie Baxter is absolutely non-threatening up close. She’s tiny—not much taller than five feet if she could stand, and bone thin, almost like a corpse. Her brown eyes are enormous on her skinny face as she stares up at me.
I hardly even need a knife. I could snap her in half with my bare hands. Hell, it looks like a strong breeze might do her in.
I’ll be doing her a favor. This woman must have a miserable life. Stuck up here all alone all day, unable to move. Having to live with that crabby husband of hers, who’s probably been sleeping with every pretty girl who walks through the door. I’ll end it quick for her.
But she looks terrified. She holds up her hands, which are shaking. “I’m sorry,” she gasps. “Whatever you think I did, I’m sorry.”
Her eyes dart to the side, and I realize what’s on the bed. It’s a pair of binoculars. She’s been watching me through binoculars. How pathetic. And sneaky. All my sympathy for this wretched creature has vanished—maybe I won’t make it quick.
Good thing I came here.
“You know what happened to my sister,” I snap at her.
She blinks her giant brown eyes. “Your… sister?”
I take a step towards her and she flinches. “Don’t play dumb.”
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about…”
“Liar…”
“Please…” Now she’s sobbing. “I didn’t do anything to your sister. I swear.”
“I never said you did.” My shoulders tense with aggravation. Why is she pretending? Does she think I’m that stupid? “But I know what you saw.”
Her delicate jaw trembles. “Saw?”
“You and your binoculars…” I sneer at her. “You’re pathetic.”
She flinches, her face turning pink. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m so sorry…”
“It’s too late.”
“No. No. Please…. You can’t…” She looks down at her phone, a pathetically hopeful expression on her face. “Nick will come. You won’t get away with it…”
“No,” I say, “he won’t come.” Then I drop the bombshell on her. I reach into my purse with my free hand and pull out the phone I swiped from the front desk. “Because I have his phone.”
What little color she still had in her face drains away. She knows she’s screwed. I’ve got the knife and her husband’s phone and she’s got nothing. Nobody is coming for her.
It’s all over for Rosalie Baxter.
Chapter 40
ROSALIE
I still had that one last hope. The hope that Nick would get my text and come running. He would be there for me like he always has been.
But when that horrible woman shows me my husband’s cell phone, that hope vanishes. And more than anything, I’m terrified to know how she got that phone. What did she do to Nick to get it?
“Oh, don’t worry,” she laughs. “Nick is fine. He left it on the front desk and I took it with me.” She cocks her head to the side. “Well, he’s fine for now. But he’s definitely going to jail for killing you. I’ll be long gone by then.”
As she closes in on me, I feel like I’m choking. She can’t get away with this, can she?
But maybe she can. After all, Nick only just escaped being charged with Christina Marsh’s murder two years ago. If I’m found murdered, there’s no way they won’t charge him. He’ll go to jail for this. Maybe forever.
I can’t die this way. I can’t. Nick and I are supposed to have a happy ending. Greta said so! I’m sick of feeling sorry for myself. If I live through this, I’m going to appreciate every moment I’ve got left.
That choking feeling intensifies, and I cough. As the sound leaves my mouth, the woman flinches. She looks concerned. It occurs to me she doesn’t know what’s wrong with me. She has no idea why I’m sick. For all she knows, I’m highly contagious.
So I start coughing more.
She freezes. I should probably be dead by now, but she’s not sure what to do. My coughing has thrown her for a loop. If I’m going to do anything, now is the time. Because it’s clear Nick isn’t coming.
So I gather every ounce of my strength. And I lunge at her.
For a moment, the world is a dizzying roller coaster. I wasn’t sure if I would have the bulk to do it, but somehow, I managed to topple her over, and then the two of us fall to the ground. There’s a loud cracking sound as her skull hits the floor. I don’t know if she’s still got the knife or not, but I’m not going to check. I reach out and run my fingernails down the side of her face.
She screams. It’s been a while since I’ve cut them, I guess.
She’s got to have the upper hand on me, because I’ve been rotting away in this room for the last several years so I’m weak as a kitten. But the adrenaline rush of almost being stabbed to death has given me back some strength. I don’t even think about it. I’m scratching and clawing at her with every fiber of my being. If she wants to kill me, I won’t make it easy for her. And I’m going to get plenty of her DNA under my fingernails so they’ll know it wasn’t Nick who did this to me.
“Whoa! Jesus Christ, Rosie!”
I pause for a breath and look up. Nick is standing over us, gawking at me. I look down at the mystery woman under me, and there’s blood all over her face. I think she might be unconscious. I roll off her, gasping for air.
“Nick,” I manage. “She… she was…”
“I know.” His face is grim. “I saw her through the window in room 201. I saw the knife. I ran over here as fast as I could, but I thought I might be too late…” He looks down at the woman, out cold on the floor. “Little did I know, my wife is a ninja.”
I start to laugh, but instead I burst into tears.
Chapter 41
CLAUDIA
When I come to, I’m lying on the floor.
For a moment, I’m too disoriented to know what happened. All I remember is that sick woman coughing all over me, like she was about to die. And then a second later, she was knocking me to the ground. I couldn’t believe the force in that little body. She was clawing at my face, and then everything went black.
I blink my eyes, and a sharp jab of pain stabs me in the back of the head. I can’t believe she knocked me down like that.
The room gradually comes into focus, and I realize I’m not alone. That guy Nick is sitting on the bed, my knife in his hand. His lips are set in a straight line.
“Don’t move,” he says. “The police are on their way.”
I look at his eyes, which are like ice. He means what he says. After all, he’s already killed somebody. His mistress.
“Look.” I struggle to sit up. “You don’t have to turn me over to the police. Nobody got hurt.”
His eyes flash. “I told you not to move.”
I take a deep breath. I’ve got nothing to lose. He doesn’t know this, but if he doesn’t let me out of this room in the next minute, I’m finished. “I can give you money. Whatever you want.”
He just snorts.
Fine. “You know,” I s
ay, “really, it’s your word against mine. I gingerly touch my face, covered in his wife’s scratch marks. My hand comes away wet with my blood. “I’m the one who’s hurt here. I’ll tell the police you attacked me. You and your nut job wife. Both of you will go to jail.”
Nick doesn’t react to that.
“Just let me go.” I shift on the floor, ready to scramble to my feet if he lets me. “Let me leave now and I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”
“If you move again,” he says calmly, “I will put this knife through your eye. Got it, lady?”
“I’ll tell them you threatened me,” I say in a small voice. “You’re doing it right now. You’re threatening me. Who do you think they’ll believe?”
Nick stares at me for a moment, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. “I saw what you did to Greta,” he hisses at me. “And you tried to kill my wife. If you think I’m ever letting you leave this room except in handcuffs, you’re out of your mind.”
Oh. He knows about the old lady. Damn.
And now I hear the sirens, growing louder by the second. Nick is gripping the knife so hard, his knuckles are white. Just a short time ago, I was the one with a knife, and Rosalie was cowering in front of me. She lunged at me and took me down. But I can take one look at Nick and know that I won’t be able to do the same to him. He will absolutely kill me if I try to get up off the floor.
A few minutes later, the police descend on us. Someone must’ve told them the entire story on the phone, because it seems like they know everything. They handcuff me and read me my rights, even though my face is bleeding and my head is throbbing.
They lead me down the stairs, and outside into the cold. I took my jacket off when I came into the house, but they don’t give me a chance to retrieve it. I suppose I’ve lost the right to a jacket.
As I come out of the house, I see they have jimmied open the trunk of my car. Deputy Scott Dwyer is standing there, right next to the trunk, and when it pops open, his face turns green.
“Oh, Christ,” Scott says. “Where the hell is that ambulance?”
I know what they have discovered in my trunk. I stop walking abruptly, surprising the officer whose hand is on my elbow, leading me to the police car. He stumbles and releases my arm. I sprint in the direction of my car.
No, I won’t be able to get away. But I want to see.
It’s Scott who jumps in front of me, just as another officer grabs me roughly by the arm. I always thought Scott was far too nice to be a cop, but at this moment, his eyes are like ice. He looks like he could strangle me with his bare hands.
“How could you?” he chokes out. “How could you do that to her? You…”
I stare back at him. “Sorry, Scotty. You missed your chance with her.”
His right hand balls into a fist. He wants to hit me. It says a lot about him that he doesn’t do it, even though I’m an easy target with my hands cuffed behind my back. He’s still a wuss. He won’t even do anything when he sees the girl he’s had a crush on for ten years bleeding to death in the trunk of a car.
“Is she breathing?” I ask.
Scott just sneers at me. He nods his head at the officer holding my arm. “Take her away.”
I start to ask again, but I feel my arm being jerked hard enough that my wrist feels like it might snap in two. I know the answer though. Quinn will survive. She’s the lucky one, after all.
Chapter 42
ROSALIE
It feels like the police are with us forever.
Nick carried me downstairs, so I wouldn’t have to deal with being near that woman. Her name, apparently, is Claudia Delaney. She’s the sister of the other woman who was staying here—the one who kissed Nick. I still don’t entirely understand why Claudia Delaney stabbed her sister, but apparently, they found her unconscious and bleeding profusely in the trunk of Claudia’s car. They rushed her to the hospital, but they’re not sure if she’ll survive. I can’t even imagine.
The police spend forever talking to Nick. I can tell he’s trying hard to keep his cool, going over the same story again and again. And he’s really upset about Greta. He went into her room to tell her to call the police, and he found her lying on the ground, a stab wound in her chest. We had both grown very fond of her. Amazingly, she was still breathing when the paramedics arrived. But she was quite old—her chances aren’t great.
Finally the police leave, and thank God, they haven’t hauled my husband away in handcuffs. He sinks into one of the chairs at our dining room table, his face pale. I wheel over to him, afraid to ask him what he’s thinking. After all, we broke up. A few hours ago, we decided our marriage was done. As far as I know, he’s already checked out.
“Nick,” I say.
He lifts his eyes, which are red-rimmed. “Hey.”
“Are you… okay?”
“Yeah, I…” He heaves a sigh. “She almost killed you. I can’t believe it.”
I try to smile. “Nah. I was fine. I took her down, no problem.”
“You did, didn’t you?” He tries to return the smile. “Listen, Rosie…”
I brace myself. I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want him to tell me he’s leaving me tonight. I don’t think I could bear it after the night I’ve had.
No, he might not leave tonight. But he’s going to want to make plans for separating. I don’t know if I can talk him out of it anymore. This decision has been a long time coming.
But I’ll try.
“I want to stay together,” he blurts out.
I stare at him. “You do?”
“Yeah.” He rubs his eyes with the balls of his hands, then looks back up at me. “I was miserable after our conversation earlier. I don’t want to live without you. Ever. I’m sad about… the way things are. With us. But I’m not giving up. I love you too much.”
“Oh,” I say.
“And,” he adds, “I think you still love me too.”
My cheeks grow warm. “You’re right. I do. I really, really do.”
He reaches out and takes my hand in his. “I knew it.”
“Also,” I say, “I think this dining room would make a really great bedroom.”
For the first time, maybe in years, I see his eyes light up. “I think so too.”
And so we sit there for the next hour, holding hands, and making plans for the future.
Epilogue
QUINN
Two and a Half Years Later
It’s a hot lazy Sunday afternoon.
Temperatures are up in the nineties today. Rightfully, I should be inside my house, with the air conditioner cranked up. But ever since my short stint in prison, I hate to be indoors for very long. So this morning, when it was cooler, I did some gardening. I sold our ostentatious house last year, and I purchased something much smaller with a beautiful garden in the back. I get so much joy out of working on it.
And now I’m celebrating my morning of labor by sitting on my front porch, in a rocking chair, having a delicious glass of lemonade with lots of ice in it. It’s the late afternoon and the temperatures will drop soon. A slight breeze lifts a few stray strands of hair off the back of my neck.
Some days, it’s just nice to be alive.
I almost wasn’t. I shift in the rocking chair, aware of that tight feeling in my abdomen that I get when I’m in certain positions. I will always have a scar there to remind me of how I almost lost my life. How I was in critical condition in the hospital, a tube down my throat.
All because of Claudia. My sister.
I felt so stupid when I found out. I had no idea how much she had grown to resent me over the years. I certainly never suspected she was the one sleeping with my husband. Or that she was in love with him.
I still wouldn’t believe it if she hadn’t said it to my face. When I tried to offer her money for her legal defense, she turned it down. Don’t do me any favors. You never have.
I wish she had taken the money. Her lawyer tried to use an insanity defense, citing Claudia’s uncon
trolled bipolar disorder. I knew about the diagnosis, but I thought her illness was controlled with medication—apparently, she had stopped taking it, and poor Rob had no idea. Anyway, the defense didn’t work. The jury convicted her of three charges of attempted murder. She’s going to be in jail for a very long time.
I’ve tried to visit her, but she refuses to see me.
Fortunately, I hired a talented lawyer for my own defense. It was somebody Scott Dwyer recommended to me. And that man from the motel, Nick Baxter, testified on my behalf about the bruises on my neck. He ended up being a really good guy in the end. I was acquitted of all charges when the jury ruled I had acted in self-defense.
I take a gulp of lemonade just as the police car pulls up in front of my house. It took a while before the sight of a police car stopped making me feel sick. It’s a side effect of having been on trial for murder. But now that I’m dating a police officer, I’ve learned to get over it.
Scott Dwyer emerges from the car, a big grin on his face. His face always lights up at the sight of me. And he’s changed out of his police uniform into a nice white dress shirt and pants. He looks achingly handsome.
For a long time, I couldn’t even contemplate being in a relationship with another man. After the trial was over, I swore off men for good. But Scott stayed by my side during the entire trial and in the aftermath, giving me advice whenever he could. Nothing ever happened between us, but he was the first friend I’d had in a long time. Derek would never have let me be friends with a man, but now I was free to do what I wanted.
Then about three months ago, on a hot day like this one, Scott suggested we go get some ice cream.
And now we are a couple.
“You ready to go?” Scott asks me.
Do Not Disturb: An addictive psychological thriller Page 20