CHAPTER 15 - Molly

CHAPTER 15MollyLAKEN AND CAL SIT AT MY KITCHEN TABLE AND, UNLIKE ME, LOOK every inch in control of their lives. They are both strong and athletic. Laken, despite resembling a runway model, was a state tennis champion when she was in high school and then played on her college team. She and Cal ski, sail, skate, you name it. I sometimes envy their fortitude. I was on my high school swim team but didn’t collect many medals.Laken has a loud, funny laugh, and it feels good, but strange, to hear her. It occurs to me that I haven’t heard anybody laugh since Saturday night. We’ve all gone along on tiptoe, whispering and sobbing quietly into wads of tissues.Her boys run around the house, making laps from living room to foyer to dining room to kitchen. Laken grabs Liam (or is it Logan?) by the collar, and he skids to a stop.“Enough! You guys take your dinner in the other room and watch TV, okay?” She removes slices of pepperoni pizza from one of two boxes on the table and lays them on paper plates.“I’ll get the boys settled,” Cal says, going to the fridge, filling two glasses with milk.They troop into the other room, and the TV comes on. Channels switch until landing on some loud kids’ program. Laken blows out an irritated breath. “Sorry, Molly. The sitter was busy tonight.”“They’re fine.” They are too. A distraction.Laken fills a paper plate with salad and adds a slice of veggie pizza next to it. I do the same and pour us each a glass of red. Cal returns and gets another beer from the fridge and joins us at the table.“Have the cops found anything, Molly?” he asks.“Not that they’ve told me.”Cal heaves a breath and takes a long sip of his beer.“They think it was a robbery maybe?”I shake my head. “Who knows? Jay didn’t talk to you about anything, did he? Anything bothering him?”“I really hadn’t spoken much to him the past couple of weeks. I’ve been really busy at the lab, and Josh . . .”Laken throws him a look.“What?” I ask.“Josh’s been calling out a lot. And when he’s there, his work is less than stellar. I’ve been kind of focused on that situation.” Cal rubs his fingers over his eyes, making his glasses bounce precariously. “I shouldn’t talk about this. Maybe something is going on with him. Maybe he discussed it with Jay.”Laken swallows, sips her wine. “What’s that got to do with who killed Jay? I’m sure Josh will get things sorted out, Cal. His sister’s got cancer, you know. Maybe that’s weighing on him. I don’t think it would be the best time to fire him.”Cal’s lips thin. “I’m not going to fire him, Lake. It’s just causing me more work, that’s all. I’ll talk to him.” Cal clears his throat, stands, and throws his plate in the garbage. “I’ll check on the boys.”“So,” Laken says, “you going to be all right here by yourself?”“Yes. I’m fine. Corrine’s got a guy coming tomorrow to install a security system.”Laken nods. “That’s good. Make sure you lock the doors tonight before you go to bed.”“I’ll be careful. You don’t think whoever killed Jay would come back for me?”She sips her wine, looks away from me momentarily. “Of course not. I didn’t mean to scare you. Whoever did this is probably a thousand miles away by now.”Does she really think that, or is she just trying to make me feel better? Probably the latter, but that’s okay. I don’t have the energy to worry about it. In some part of my brain, I think that being dead alongside Jay wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to me.“Hey, why don’t you come into the shop tomorrow? How about a massage and a facial?”“I don’t know. Maybe.”Laken shrugs. “What’ll you do all day? You’ve got to get out.” She glances around the kitchen. “You’ll go crazy if you stay in all the time.”“I’m thinking I’ll go back to work in a few days.”“That’s what you want to do?”I don’t want to do anything. I want to stay in the house, burrow on the sofa, and pull a blanket over my head. That’s what I want to do. “What else can I do, Laken? Go back and live with my parents? I’d rather die.”Her dark eyes widen under her perfectly sculpted brows.“Sorry,” I say, “that was melodramatic. You know what I mean. Going back to live with my parents is not an option.”She places her hand on mine. “I read you shouldn’t make any major life decisions right after a traumatic event.”I manage a thin smile. “Exactly. So going back to work might be the best thing.”* * *Laken, Cal, and the kids left at eight. I watched them from the porch pile into their big SUV and disappear into the night. I stood outside awhile, my arms clutching my sweater around my chest, and shivered in the dark. Sleety snowflakes pinged against my face like small razors. When I turned and went into the house, I felt utterly alone, knowing that Jay was truly gone forever.I turn on all the lights downstairs and walk from room to room, checking corners and closets, double-checking that the lock Jay put on the cellar door is fastened. There’s a little room tucked behind the kitchen. Jay said it was probably a larder years ago, and I picture rows of mason jars lined up on the shelves, their chunks of onion and cucumber swimming in briny water full of floating herbs. I picture some ghostly woman in her long dress and apron lining them up there, and it makes me think of how quickly life passes. I wonder about the people who have lived in our house and how many of them are probably dead. We have no need for a larder, so we use the room for storage and the washer and dryer. I pull a chain that controls the bulb hanging overhead, and the room is filled with sickly light.I walk down the hall to the door to the side porch. The air turns colder as I approach. The house needs new insulation. Something else on the long list of home improvements we’d had planned. The enclosed side porch with its rows of louvered windows is my favorite spot. Last spring, a couple of months after we moved in, white lilac bushes bloomed right outside this little room, providing a fragrant hiding place to read or relax. I can’t wait until winter ends and I can sit there again. I try the knob to make sure the door is securely locked. It is, and I turn and head back down the hall.In the living room, I turn on the TV and switch channels until I land on a movie, one with bright colors and chirpy dialog. I hope the sound will chase away the stillness. I glance at the pile of books on the end table. Normally, in the evening, I’d read. Losing myself in a story has been a lifelong passion and escape. I’d cuddle up with Jay and read while he watched a game. I sniff back tears. I’m so exhausted, I don’t even have the energy for a novel right now. I don’t think my brain could follow words on a page. So TV it is.At midnight, after watching two movies, the names of which I couldn’t tell you, I head upstairs. Standing in the doorway of the master bedroom, I see that the cleaning ladies have made the bed and folded the clothes that had been scattered throughout the room. My clothes and Jay’s now sit in a neat stack, mixed together, my sweater nestled between two pairs of his Dockers.I go through my night routine like a robot, pretending Jay is away at a conference, anything but reality. With the lights on, I slide into bed, stay on my side, and despite myself fall into a deep, murky doze.Darkness wraps around me, and the walls of my prison reek of earth and decay. I’m on my hands and knees, crawling, feeling for the stairs, soaked in my own urine. A girl is crying, whimpering, and I can’t tell if it’s me or someone else. There’s a monster down here in this hole. I smell his sour breath, hear his raspy breathing. I scuttle across the floor, my fingernails digging into the muck, my knees burning. But I can’t get away. I can’t find the stairs. My heart pounds as he leans over me and shoves me roughly facedown. My teeth hit dirt, and it lies bitter in my mouth. I can’t breathe. And his fingers, sharp as talons, squeeze my flesh. He yanks my arm out from under me and pierces my tender skin. I feel the bite of the knife as I’m sinking into the earth, never to get away.I wake, choking for air, dripping with sweat. It takes me a minute to ease my breathing into a normal rhythm. I swallow my tears, swing my feet to the floor, and pull myself out of bed. I find Jay’s robe on the back of the closet door, slip my arms into the sleeves, wrap the flannel firmly around my waist, and pull the lapels to my nose, willing myself to breathe slow and steady. I wander out into the hall, my bare feet on the cold hardwood. At the top of the stairs is a small round window that overlooks the backyard. I pad over to it and wonder how many people over the years have stood here in this very spot looking out, looking for something or someone. My mind settles on the idea, anything to chase the nightmare away. Chilly air seeps around the old frame, and I lean my forehead against the cool glass.My heartbeat kicks up. The backyard is dark, but there’s a light on in the office. Did the police leave it on when they left? I peer more closely. A shadow passes the office window. I instinctively reach into the pocket of Jay’s robe for my phone, but of course it isn’t there. I’ll have to use the landline in the kitchen. But what if I’m wrong? What if the shadow is just a trick of the light? A remnant of my nightmare? They’ll think I’m crazy. My heart is thrumming, pulsing in my ears. Then I see a figure, a man in dark clothing, a hat pulled low, crouch under the yellow tape, and sprint across the yard.