by Laura Wolfe
Chapter Twenty-Four
Morning turned to afternoon. I perched on the couch and then paced the perimeter of the living room before returning to the flattened cushion again. I kept Jenna in my sights and the knife in my grip, just in case she was someone other than the loyal friend I wanted her to be. The darkened sky made it difficult to gauge the time. Rain hammered against the window, interrupted by occasional flashes of lightning and booms of thunder. When Jenna complained about the surging pain in her ankle, I studied her face and weighed the intonation of her voice, struggling to determine whether she was faking the injury. She gave nothing away. I left her only briefly and occasionally to use the bathroom or skitter into the kitchen to gather drinks or snacks. We flipped through the pages of the photo album and relived our favorite memories of Sam and Kaitlyn. The knowledge of the grief awaiting their families made my chest ache. After reaching the end of the album, we sat motionlessly and waited for help to arrive, trying not to think about Charlotte sopping wet and huddled under a tree somewhere or splashing through the downpour exposed to a lightning strike.
By the time my watch read 4:15 p.m., the air inside the cabin was damp and thick. I felt like crawling out of my skin. “Do you think Charlotte has found help yet?” I asked, raising my voice over the pelting rain.
“I don’t know. There probably aren’t many people driving around in this storm.”
“I wonder if Andrew is worried that he hasn’t heard from me? Or if Reed and Derek and Thomas are trying to reach us? Maybe someone has called the local police.”
“Didn’t you tell Andrew that you’d have spotty reception at the cabin? I thought the others warned their husbands too.”
“Yeah.” I covered my eyes with my palms. “I really wish we hadn’t done that.”
Jenna rested her foot on the table and popped another ibuprofen. She made a face and shook the empty bottle. It was the last one. “I really messed up my ankle running down the hill this morning.” She touched the bandage.
“Do you want me to rewrap it for you?” I asked.
Jenna swung her leg away from me. “No. Thanks. It’s good.”
I glanced at the wall, wondering why Jenna didn’t want me to see her ankle. I rubbed my elbow, reining in my suspicions. Wouldn’t Jenna have attacked me by now if she’d wanted to? Reassured, I approached the empty stairway. “Charlotte mentioned she might have a couple of leftover pills. I’ll go check in her suitcase.”
Jenna nodded. I headed to the upstairs bathroom where I searched through Charlotte’s toiletries. There was no ibuprofen or aspirin. I moved into our shared bedroom and found Charlotte’s suitcase shoved into a corner and covered with a heap of her dirty laundry. I rifled through the clothes, searching for a small plastic bottle or a travel-sized packet of pills. The lining of the suitcase hid a zippered side pocket. I opened it, expecting to find money, feminine products, or medicine. Instead, I found a plastic sandwich bag filled with quarters and a metal container of peppermint breath mints. Behind the random items, the white corners of a stack of papers poked out. Curious, I pinched the bundle and lifted it.
The first sheet was a printout of the cabin’s vacation listing, the same one I’d viewed online before we agreed to rent this place. I scoffed at the photos of a pristine log house overlooking a crystal-blue lake, a shiny, rainbow-sailed boat gliding over the waves. I wondered how many years ago someone had taken that snapshot. I flipped to the next paper, finding a receipt of payment. I’d seen this document before, too. Travis had emailed the confirmed reservation to Charlotte, which she had then forwarded to all of us. My thumb flipped behind the receipt, and my eyes did a double take. It was another receipt, but this one was of a payment made to Charlotte. It was dated two weeks earlier and showed that Charlotte had received a check for $932 from the State of Wisconsin Office of Unemployment. I turned the paper over, looking for an explanation, but it was blank on the other side. I looked around the room, confused.
Charlotte had been talking non-stop about her tireless work as a physical therapist and her long hours. She’d described the medical center’s bustling atmosphere and the constant demands of her supervisor. Had Charlotte been lying to us? Maybe she was ashamed of being out of work, especially if the hospital had fired her. My arms flopped to my sides as I imagined how difficult it must have been for her to keep up that lie in front of us; it was upsetting that she felt she needed to lie about having lost her job in the first place. I skimmed through the last two papers, finding nothing of any significance. Then I replaced them in the secret pocket and went downstairs, taking a seat next to Jenna.
“I didn’t find any medicine, but I discovered something else.”
Jenna turned toward me, the knife still resting at her feet. “What?”
“I think Charlotte lost her job. There was a receipt from an unemployment check in her suitcase. It was mixed in with some other papers.”
Jenna’s eyes narrowed. “Are you serious? Why would she lie about that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she was embarrassed.”
“Maybe it wasn’t Charlotte’s check. It could have been Reed who lost his job.”
I considered the possibility but shook my head. “The payment was made to her name. It was dated two weeks ago.”
“Man. I feel so bad.” Jenna massaged her forehead with her fingertips. “No wonder Charlotte wanted to rent this cheap, run-down cabin.”
“In her defense, she didn’t know it was run-down—and terrifying—until we got here.”
“I don’t think we should mention anything about this when she comes back,” Jenna said, followed by a sigh. “She clearly didn’t want us to find out.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Charlotte’s going through enough. There’s no need to make her feel worse.” I laced my fingers together, the edge of a jagged fingernail scratching my skin. “On the other hand, it might help her to talk through her feelings.”
“Yeah, but not with us. She doesn’t want us to know.”
I picked at my fingernail and stared toward the floor. Charlotte’s dark eyes flickered in my mind. She’d been so eager to leave this morning. I pressed my weight into the cushion, feeling as if I was stranded on a sinking raft, as if I’d glimpsed a sea monster gliding just beneath the surface of the rippling water but couldn’t see its face. Was Charlotte hiding more than an unemployment check from us? A job loss could have devastating effects on a person. I’d seen it first-hand in a former client, Annie Linderman, who’d driven her car into a lake while her kids slept in the back seat. I’d counseled Annie only five days earlier. She’d shown no signs of violence then. But that was three days before her advertising firm had let her go with no warning. Thankfully, a bystander had intervened before the car was submerged and Annie hadn’t injured anyone in that incident. Law enforcement had charged her with reckless driving and child endangerment but had ultimately released her under the supervision of a psychologist capable of administering medication and monitoring her more closely.
A job loss plus marital problems could change someone. Two tragedies back to back could alter a person’s view of the world, cause them to blame others, and lash out in violence. I rubbed the top of my nail, smoothing out the craggy edge and wondering if Charlotte was lurking somewhere outside the cabin, planning a surprise attack on Jenna and me. I held my breath, listening for any clues, but only rain pelted against the windows.
My eyes squeezed closed, my brain struggling to banish my wild theories. Maybe Jenna was right about me. I was a horrible person for suspecting a friend of murder, especially when two armed suspects seeking revenge lived just down the road. Charlotte had seemed fine at the start of this weekend. Happy, even. She had probably been relieved to get away from her home life for a few days. It was a stretch to assume she was capable of such horrific acts toward her closest friends. I hugged my arms in front of me, no closer to figuring out the truth.
The cabin was humid and warm. Traces of Travis’s decaying body clung to
the air and I gagged. I didn’t want to make things worse by mentioning the odor to Jenna. Instead, I walked to the window and cracked it open. Rain spattered through the opening.
“I should go over to Travis’s house and break in to use the phone.”
Jenna’s lips flattened. “No. We can’t separate. It’s bad enough that Charlotte’s out there on her own.”
“You can come with me.”
Jenna pointed to her ankle. “I can barely walk. I wouldn’t be able to run if we needed to. Plus, Ed and Marlene are probably at the house, lying in wait. Those two would be happy to have any excuse to shoot us.”
“What if I just scope it out from a distance to see if they’re there? I’ll stay hidden behind the trees. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
Jenna set her chin. “No. Neither of us should be alone. It’s not safe.” Her gaze landed on the two knives on the coffee table. “Especially without the stupid rifle.”
My mouth was dry and pressure built up inside my chest. I paced over to the couch, realizing Jenna was probably right. It was safer to stay together. Still, things were desperate. The path forward was murky. Maybe a risk was necessary.
“Anyway, Charlotte might have found help already,” Jenna said, sitting up straight. “There could be a police car on its way to us right now. It’s only been a few hours. This rain probably slowed her down. Let’s give her a chance.”
I wished I could collect the crumbs of hope Jenna was throwing my way, but my limbs felt heavy and useless. I sank into the couch next to her and waited.
“You should eat something.” I set two paper plates with leftover pieces of cold pizza on the coffee table.
Jenna sniffled. She flopped back, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Where’s Charlotte?”
I gazed toward the window, where the rain still fell in sheets. It was almost 9 p.m. “I don’t know.” Heat climbed up my neck and over my cheeks, but I quieted my face. Jenna and I couldn’t fall apart at the same time. We needed to support each other, to hold each other up.
I edged the plate toward her. “Try to take a few bites. We need to keep up our strength.” I picked up my flimsy piece of pizza and bit into it, leading by example. Jenna lowered her chin and copied me. Her movements were mechanical, the mannerisms of someone who’d lost hope.
“Jenna, we’re stronger than we know. We’re going to get out of here.”
Her eyelids lowered as she gave a slight nod.
I finished most of my slice and stepped toward the shelves. “Do you want to play a card game? It might make the time go faster.”
“Okay.”
I grabbed Uno, returning to the couch and dealing the cards.
Another hour passed as we played several rounds, not caring who won or lost. Jenna barely talked. Her sense of humor had vanished along with her words. There was still no sign of Charlotte. Jenna pushed the cards away and hobbled toward the window.
I stood up and followed her. “Maybe we should take turns sleeping tonight, so one of us can keep a lookout.”
“Yeah,” Jenna said, turning toward me. “That’s a good idea. Do you want to go first?”
I checked my watch as my jittering insides competed with my heavy eyelids. A refreshing sleep wasn’t likely to happen, but it would be good to lie down and gather my thoughts. “Okay. Wake me up at 2 a.m., or earlier if you can’t stay awake. And come get me if you hear anything.”
“I will.” Jenna wobbled back to the couch and squeezed her arms around herself.
“Jenna,” I said, and she looked up at me. “We’re going to be okay.”
She forced a half-smile. Her eyes were illuminated in the lamplight, their color now pale and sharp like shards of glass. She didn’t believe me. Or maybe she knew something I didn’t.
I dragged my feet up the stairs, paranoia needling through me. The four walls of my small bedroom provided an illusion of security, and I closed myself inside it, moving a wooden stool in front of the door. The seat wasn’t tall enough to reach the doorknob, and I pulled it away. Opening the door again, I paced down the hallway and into the bathroom, where I splashed water on my face and focused on breathing. As I stepped into the hallway, every shadowy doorway loomed like a waiting predator. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something, that things weren’t as they seemed. Instead of going back to my room, I tiptoed into Jenna’s darkened bedroom. Using the flashlight on my phone, I peered under the bed, searching for the missing rifle. It wasn’t there. My trembling hands lifted the messy covers, finding nothing underneath. I tiptoed to the closet and opened the door, flashing my light into the space. A wire hanger and a spare pillow were the only things inside. I lunged toward her suitcase and sifted through her clothes. No gun. Jenna’s extra pair of running shoes sat next to her luggage. My hand flew to my mouth as I noticed one of the shoes was missing its laces. I thought of the thin, purplish strangulation marks across Sam and Kaitlyn’s necks and tried not to scream. Did Jenna use her shoelace to strangle them? Was this evidence? I closed my eyes, desperate for another explanation. The laces were missing from her left shoe, the same side as her ankle injury. Jenna’s ankle and foot were probably so swollen that she couldn’t get her foot into the shoe. That was a reasonable explanation that made more sense than the murderous alternative.
I tipped my head toward the ceiling and huffed out a breath. Again, I silently scolded myself for suspecting my friend of such gruesome acts. I slid through the doorway and into my bedroom. A stubborn pebble of determination formed in my chest, along with a new plan in my head. It wasn’t wise to trust Jenna completely, but I’d found no convincing reason not to trust her. I would attempt to get some sleep if my body allowed. When it was Jenna’s turn to rest, I would wait until she fell asleep, then sneak out and break into Travis’s house to call the police. Even if Ed and Marlene were there, they’d likely be asleep by then. It was risky, but we were desperate.
With my clothes still on, I laid on the bed and let my head fall into the pillow. I listened to the steady drumming of the rain on the roof. The churning in my gut told me what my mind already suspected—Charlotte wasn’t coming back. At least, not tonight. For all we knew, Marlene and Ed had already gotten to her. I was done waiting around for someone else to save me.
I closed my eyes, craving sleep. Instead of falling into the soothing blackness of my dreams, only visions of Marnie and Wyatt scampered through my mind. Panic gripped my throat at the thought of never seeing my kids again. It was as if I was reaching over the edge of a cliff trying to grasp their hands, but I couldn’t hang on. Their sticky fingers were sliding through mine. I was desperate to be near them, to hold them tight and smell the fruity scent of their hair after a bath, to dance in the sound of their laughter. I imagined Marnie’s sandy-brown curls under the palm of my hand. I pictured her devious grin as she plucked an extra chocolate-chip cookie from the box when she thought I wasn’t looking. A memory surfaced of Wyatt with his chest puffed out and holding up a watercolor painting of our backyard bird feeder in his pudgy fingers. I smiled, remembering how the birds in the picture were so out of proportion, almost as big as the house he’d drawn across one side. Wyatt had scrawled words in the corner: To Mommy. I love you and birds. It had been a perfect piece of art, though, and I told him as much. I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
A sob choked my throat. I wouldn’t lose my kids. I had to find a way to return to them. And I wouldn’t stop at that. This nightmare of a weekend had forced my life back into perspective. Marnie and Wyatt deserved to have happy parents—honest parents—who loved each other. It was time to come clean with Andrew. I could only hope he’d forgive me and be willing to go to marriage counseling. Hopefully, we could find a therapist who was better at her job than me. Suddenly, I wanted to work things out with Andrew more than anything in the world. What an idiot I’d been to turn away from him.
It hadn’t been that long ago when Andrew and I had been madly in love. I thought back to the first night we’d met. A m
utual friend had introduced us at a charity event. I was twenty-seven then. An urgent magnetism had surged between us, apparent from the spark in his eyes and my tingling skin. The feeling had been impossible to ignore. I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off Andrew or leave his side for the rest of the night, and it was obvious he felt the same way. We’d migrated to a private table in the hotel lobby and forgot about mingling with others. We talked about everything. The conversation was easy, like we’d known each other for years. Andrew was smart, funny, and handsome in a nerdy kind of way that was utterly endearing. He’d left with my number and called the next morning. He hadn’t played it cool, and that attracted me to him even more. Three years later, we were married.
Years of holidays, trips, early mornings, yard work, diaper changes, dirty bathrooms, missed dinner dates, and work meetings spun through my mind as I tried to pinpoint the moment things went wrong between us. Our marriage hadn’t collapsed in an instant, like a house destroyed by an earthquake. It had eroded over time, a brick here, a shingle there, until it was too late. One day the foundation wasn’t strong enough to support me, to stop me from falling for the advances of a charming and handsome stranger. After I escaped from this place, my only mission would be to rebuild our house.
I closed my eyes. The next thing I knew, Jenna was leaning over me, squeezing.
Chapter Twenty-Five