by Margot Hunt
Kat laughed her hollow, humorless laugh. “Thanks, but no, thanks. I’m not exactly in the mood for a vacation.”
“You’re just going to sit here and wait for him to come back and hurt you again?” I asked angrily.
After our trip to the Keys, when Kat told me that Howard had hit her, I’d read up on domestic abuse, especially when it occurred among the wealthy. The women in those situations had a habit of hiding what was happening, embarrassed for any of their social peers to find out. But Kat wasn’t a trophy wife, skulking around a mansion, worried about what would become of her if she blew the whistle on her abusive, breadwinning spouse. Her family’s money had bought this huge house, and she had the security of a well-connected family to look after her. She might face some minor public scrutiny—people loved to gossip—but surely nothing she couldn’t deal with. Kat was a Wyeth. That alone gave her an unusual measure of protection.
“No. I’m going to finish off this bottle of wine, then possibly open another. And while I sit here and drink my wine and look out at the water, I’m going to figure out how to make that fucking asshole pay for what he did to me,” Kat said, her voice suddenly eerily calm.
I sat back on my heels, my hand still on her shoulder.
“You can’t stay here.”
“Want to bet? This is my house,” Kat retorted.
“Which won’t matter if he kills you,” I pointed out. I began picking up the shattered fragments of my wineglass.
“Leave it. Marguerite will clean up tomorrow.”
I ignored her, piling the pieces of glass in a napkin. I stood and went to the bar to get another wineglass, before returning to my seat. Kat passed me the bottle, and I poured myself a glass. After Kat’s disclosure, I needed it. “You need to tell me what happened.”
Kat drew in a deep breath. “Howard came home after work. We’d made plans to eat here. I’d bought a couple of fillets that I was planning to cook. But he announced that he had to go back out to a work meeting. Which was obviously bullshit.”
I nodded. I wouldn’t have believed him, either. “You thought he was meeting the bartender?”
“Her or whoever else he’s fucking these days. Someone he felt the need to shower and change for, something he wouldn’t have done if it really was a late business meeting.” Kat shook her head. She looked more tired than sad. “So I confronted him. I told him that I knew what he was up to, that if he planned to see her again, he should pack a bag, because he wouldn’t be welcome back here.”
I nodded.
“And then he just lost it,” Kat said. “I could tell he’d been drinking—his eyes were red, and anyway, I could smell the scotch on his breath—and he just came at me. Got right up in my face and started yelling that he would not be told he couldn’t return to his own house. I told him that since I’d bought it, it was actually my house. Then he just...lunged at me.”
Kat stopped and raised a hand to her throat, her fingers gently brushing against the fabric of her shirt.
“That’s when he choked you?”
Kat nodded, took another large gulp of wine.
“Kat.” I sighed. “You have to call the police and file a report. Or, if you won’t do that, you have to leave. It’s not safe to stay here without doing anything to protect yourself.”
“No,” she said, turning sharply in my direction. “I will not let him run me off. Besides, he won’t be back tonight.”
“He’s going to stay out all night?”
She shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Especially if he’s on a bender.”
I rubbed my face wearily. Kat could be incredibly stubborn.
“Have you ever tried talking to him about not drinking so much?”
“It’s pointless. He wouldn’t listen. He did actually go to rehab once.”
“He did? What happened?”
“He lasted fourteen hours, then called a cab.”
“They let him leave?”
“They didn’t have a choice. He checked himself in, so he could check himself out. Anyway, at this point, I don’t think it would make much of a difference.”
“I don’t know. Adding alcohol to marital conflict is like throwing gas on a fire, at least in my experience,” I said, remembering too many arguments Todd and I had engaged in after cocktails had been consumed.
“No, I meant, even if he sobered up, this was the final straw. I mean, he choked me. He put his hands around my throat and squeezed until I started to black out.” Kat lifted her own small, pale hands up to her neck to demonstrate. “And I saw it in his eyes. There’s something feral and rotten inside him. He wanted me to die. He was hoping I would die.”
I shivered and took a sip of wine. “What stopped him?”
“I don’t know,” Kat said, the fire leaving her voice. “Certainly not any concern on my behalf. Probably fear that he’d spend the rest of his life in a jail cell. Howard might hate me—it’s obvious he does—but he wouldn’t survive in jail. He’s too soft. He likes his luxuries too much.”
“He isn’t worried you’ll call the police about what happened tonight?”
Kat shook her head. “Probably not. Although I should.”
“You definitely should.”
“Do you know what would happen if I did? It would be on the front of the Palm Beach Post tomorrow. Developer’s Daughter Revealed to be a Battered Wife.”
“So?” I said. “There are worse things that can be said.”
“Not to me,” Kat retorted. “All the Palm Beach bitches would be gossiping about it for years. God, I hate them.”
I could feel my patience slipping again. “Why do you care what they think?”
“Because I do!” Kat flared up. “And if you’re not going to help, you might as well leave.”
“I am trying to help,” I said, stung.
“Telling me over and over to leave my house is not helpful.” Kat’s words were slurred around the edges, and I wondered how much wine she’d had before I arrived.
There probably wasn’t any point in continuing this conversation. I could sit with Kat and eventually get her to go to bed, but then what? Should I sleep over at her house, just in case Howard came home? That might be the most prudent course of action—I doubted he’d pick up where he left off if I was there—but it would certainly cause tensions to escalate at my house. And even putting Todd’s irritation aside—something I was all too willing to do—it would stress out my children.
Kat was my friend and she was in trouble. But Liam and Bridget depended on me.
I set my mostly untouched wine down and clasped my hands together. “What do you need, Kat?”
She laughed bitterly. “A different life.”
“Then let’s make that happen.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“No, not easy.” I shook my head. “Of course it won’t be easy. But you can’t stay here, rattling around this big house, waiting for your husband to come back and possibly hurt you again. And I can’t stay here on guard duty. We need to come up with a plan.”
Kat looked warily at me. “What sort of a plan?”
“I think the best course of action would be for you to check into a hotel tonight and go see a divorce attorney tomorrow. I’ll go with you,” I offered.
Kat shook her head mulishly. “I already told you, I’m not going anywhere.”
I swallowed back a sigh. “Then let me call your parents or your brother. Maybe one of them can come over.”
“If you call my parents, I will never speak to you again,” Kat said sharply.
“Come on, Kat,” I said, wearying of her petulance.
“You think I’m kidding? I’m not. You’ll never hear from me again. You won’t be the first so-called friend I’ve had to jettison.”
That was it. I’d had enough.
“F
ine,” I said, standing. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”
Before I could go, Kat was on her feet, grabbing at my arm.
“Don’t go,” she begged. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Kat looked at me pleadingly while tears slid silently down her face. My anger drained and I patted her arm.
“Take a deep breath,” I said soothingly, as though I were talking Bridget down from a panic attack.
Kat tried to inhale, but it was choked off by a throaty sob. “I can’t believe I’ve become this person. Afraid of my own husband.”
“Well, this has to stop,” I said firmly. “It’s time. You need to take action.”
“Yes,” Kat said, slowly lifting her head to look at me. Her eyes, usually a vivid blue, looked dark in the twilight. “It’s time I do something.”
A shiver of apprehension passed over me. “You’ll go see a lawyer tomorrow?”
Kat shook her head slowly. “No, that’s not what I mean at all. Howard needs to be stopped.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked cautiously.
“Never mind. I’m not dragging you into this.”
Fear flashed through me. I could feel my heart start to beat faster.
“Into what?”
“Just promise me this,” Kat said. “Whatever happens, promise me you’ll be on my side.”
“Of course I’ll always be on your side,” I assured her.
“No matter what?”
The words were loaded, edgy with unspoken meaning. I wasn’t sure what she was asking of me. I looked at her, waiting for clarification, but Kat just stared back at me.
I thought about Todd and his accusation that I put Kat before our family. And I thought about Liam and Bridget and how much they still counted on me. Once you became a mother, you lost the right to put yourself in danger voluntarily.
But then I looked at my scared, battered friend and knew that if I didn’t help her, something bad would happen. Howard was too volatile, his hostility fueled by alcohol and resentment. The next time he went after her, he might kill her.
Finally I nodded. “No matter what.”
In the looming twilight, already alive with the sounds of cicadas, frogs and other creatures that roamed the night, the words sounded like a promise. Like an oath.
The truth was, it frightened me.
27
Present Day
I was dreading my meeting with Kat.
After everything that had happened since Howard’s death and all that I had learned about her, I didn’t know what to expect. Would she be the same Kat who’d been my best friend for the past three years, or would I be meeting a virtual stranger? This thought unsettled me for most of the morning. But I had to go. I needed to find out what was going on.
I also wasn’t crazy about the idea of meeting at the Jupiter Lighthouse, a popular local tourist destination. I’d visited the lighthouse once before, chaperoning Liam’s class on a school field trip. It was a long climb to the top, and once you made it, you were rewarded with a scenic view of the Intracoastal Waterway and the Atlantic Ocean. But the lighthouse would be closed at nine o’clock at night, so we would be trespassing if we met there. I’d already been arrested once that week and wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.
I finally decided that my best course of action would be to go early, while the lighthouse was still open to visitors. I’d buy a ticket for the tour, then try to find a spot where I could hide and wait for Kat to arrive. I was probably being overly cautious, but something about this meeting was making me edgy. I needed to be prepared for whatever might happen.
There were still a few problems I had to solve beforehand. And for that, I’d need Ebbie’s help.
I found my mother in the kitchen, sitting at the table, working on a sudoku puzzle. This was a sight so shocking, I stopped abruptly and stared at her.
Ebbie looked up, peering at me over the top of tortoiseshell readers. “What?”
“You’re working on a puzzle?”
“And why is that such a surprise?”
“Because you hate puzzles. You’ve told me that for years. Pretty much every time I’ve talked about my career in your presence.”
“No, I haven’t,” Ebbie replied.
“Yes, you have. When I told you that I was writing a series of books of logic puzzles for tweens, you scoffed.”
“I never scoff at anything. I’m open to all of life’s many experiences.” Ebbie took off her glasses, letting them hang down around her neck, secured by a chain.
“Your exact words were ‘I don’t know how you can do that. I hate puzzles. My brain doesn’t work that way.’”
“I never said that.”
I could feel my inner fifteen-year-old rising to this bait. Ebbie had said that, almost verbatim, and it was annoying listening to her pretend she hadn’t. She’d always thought if she simply denied saying or doing something, that would magically make it true. I took several deep breaths and fought down my irritation. I had larger issues than a narcissistic mother to deal with at the moment.
“Do you know what your problem is?” Ebbie asked. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
“Living under a cloud of suspicion? The threat of spending the rest of my life in prison for a crime I didn’t commit?”
My mother ignored my sarcasm. “You’re far too rigid. You always have been, even when you were little. You don’t allow people to change and grow.”
I poured a cup of coffee from the carafe and sat down across the table from my mother.
“Is that what this is?” I asked. “Changing and growing through sudoku puzzles?”
“Maybe,” Ebbie said.
I sipped my coffee. It tasted slightly scorched. “I need your help. I have to go somewhere this afternoon. I’ll be gone for a while. And I don’t want Todd to know where I am.”
“That sounds very mysterious. How can I help?”
“The first problem is getting past the reporters outside. If I drive myself, they’ll follow me.”
“I’ll drive you,” Ebbie offered. “They won’t follow me.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Oh, I know how to deal with them. Leave it to me. You can hide in the back seat. We’ll find a way to camouflage you.”
“Okay.” I was pleasantly surprised at Ebbie’s sudden burst of helpfulness. “If you think that will work.”
“I’m sure it will.”
“Now I just need to figure out what to do about Todd.”
“Why don’t you want him to know where you’re going?”
I smiled ruefully. “Because he wouldn’t approve and would probably try to stop me.”
Ebbie nodded. “I’ll think of something to tell him.”
“Like what?”
“I’ll say we’re going to the grocery store,” Ebbie suggested.
“And when I don’t return home for six hours?”
“You’re going to be gone that long?”
I nodded.
“Well, he probably won’t buy that you spent so long buying groceries. I’ll try to come up with something else. I wonder if he’d believe me if I told him you were at a meditation center, processing your feelings about the arrest,” Ebbie said. “Probably not.”
“Probably not,” I agreed. I reached out and rested my hand on her arm. “Thank you.”
Ebbie patted my hand and smiled. “Anytime you need to sneak away for a secret assignation, I’m here to help.”
* * *
I’d never been on a stakeout before, but I assumed there would be two major challenges—not being seen and overcoming the boredom. I dressed for comfort—leggings, a long-sleeve sweat-wicking shirt, running shoes—and pulled my hair back in a low ponytail. My picture had been on the front page of the Palm
Beach Post that morning, so there was a risk someone might recognize me. I decided to wear a baseball hat and a pair of large sunglasses and hoped they would be enough to conceal my identity.
Next I loaded a backpack with bottled water, granola bars, bananas and a paperback novel I’d been meaning to read for a while. I also brought my wallet, my cell phone—the volume muted—and, just in case, a can of pepper spray.
One piece of good luck was that Todd decided to go into his office after lunch. He hadn’t been there since he first found out about my arrest, and he had to pick up the partially completed blueprints for a house he’d been hired to design.
“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked before he left.
“No, of course not.”
“I won’t be too long,” he promised. “I’ll work here.”
And I won’t be here when you get back, I thought. I knew Todd would be upset when he returned home and found me gone. I hated to cause him additional stress and worry after everything we’d been through over the past few days. But there was nothing I could do about that now.
* * *
I read on the Jupiter Lighthouse website that the last tour of the day was at four o’clock, so I asked Ebbie to drive me over there at three thirty. I brought a throw blanket from the living room out to the garage, and after I lay down in the back of my Volvo station wagon, Ebbie arranged it over me.
“Well?” I asked.
“As long as you stay still, I think it will work,” Ebbie said. “Are you comfortable?”
“Not really.”
“You’ll have to stay back here only a few minutes, just until we get past the reporters.”
Ebbie closed the tailgate, and a minute later I heard her open the driver’s-side door.
“Are you ready?” she called back to me, starting the car.
“I guess.”
“What?” Ebbie asked. “I can’t hear you.”
I yanked the blanket off my face and said, “Let’s go.”
Ebbie opened the garage door, and I pulled the blanket back over my face. I could feel the car back down the driveway, followed by the shouts of the reporters. One or two of them were brazen enough to pound on the car. I was shocked to hear Ebbie roll down the automatic window.