Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
I snap the notebook shut and tuck it away. Grab my coffee cup off the ground, though it’s coated in alley sludge now, brown muck dripping from the bottom. It’s time to go. I must’ve missed him, or he went a different route, or perhaps he headed home. Pulling my purse up to my shoulder, I stride toward the sidewalk and take a left, back toward the subway.
I don’t even see him before it happens.
A head-on collision—not unlike you and his wife and child—and there’s no time to react. No time to stop it. I bounce off his body, lose my footing, and then I’m falling—
“Whoa, careful.” A strong arm grips my elbow. My descent toward the cold concrete halts, and I look up with dread and anticipation filling my body in equal parts. Our eyes meet, and I can’t stop blinking.
Gabriel Wright’s lips curl in curious interest. “Are you all right?”
“No. I mean—I mean, yes.” I still can’t stop blinking. But at least my self-protection mechanism kicks in, and I turn my head toward the ground, shielding my face. “Excuse me. I didn’t see you—”
“What were you doing in the alley?” His voice comes out bright, teasing. I have the self-awareness to feel heat rising to my cheeks, to follow his glance down the dark alleyway between two brick buildings, to see it as he must—dirty and dank and probably full of rats. My hideout for weeks now, and it never quite occurred to me to consider these aspects. I was so focused on him. And now, well, here he is.
“I’m late—but are you okay?” he asks when I don’t respond. His concern sounds genuine.
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
Just as fast as it happened, he’s gone. I tremble with nervous energy until he disappears around the next corner. I squeeze my eyes shut—I know the route he’ll take. Where he’ll cross the street, where he’ll stop for a quick coffee if he needs another caffeine fix. The building he’ll walk inside, the exact room he lectures in. My heart pounds in my chest, and I force myself to take a few deep breaths.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Slow.
Steady.
He didn’t recognize me.
Of course he wouldn’t. The only opportunity he’d have had to see me was the hospital that day. And a random woman was the least of his worries when his whole family was dead. I’ve always been careful as I follow him. Never once has he caught sight of me. But now, after literally colliding with him, he will remember me.
A chill runs up my spine. While this must have felt like a random run-in with a complete stranger to him, it was anything but. After all, I know he orders salad frequently for lunch, probably quit smoking, and is missing the bottom button on his lightweight coat. And I know the faces of the three women he frequently grabs lunch or an intimate dinner with—
Shit.
I’m still shaking. My body hums with the need to run down the block, catch up to him, but I can’t. He’s seen me. This needs to stop. Here and now. I can’t follow him anymore. I can’t search for his wife’s and child’s graves, sit outside under the big oak at Columbia, wait for him to return home every evening. What I can do… is go home. So I turn on my heel and walk back the way I came, all plans abandoned. Half a block later, the hair on my arms registers the sound before I do. Footsteps. I whirl, expecting to see Gabriel behind me, expecting him to be running after me, realizing who I am. Who you are.
But no one’s there. It must have been the echo of my own footsteps. Though I could’ve sworn otherwise. I search the sidewalk one last time. Unless he ducked down another alley, it’s all in my head—like “The Tell-Tale Heart,” except the stalker hears her imaginary stalker.
I go home. Straight home, don’t even stop for a salad or a bagel or another coffee. I’m too freaked-out to eat. I need to hide. But when I arrive, I realize I’ve lost my apartment key. Not my key, actually. My husband’s. My heart sinks. The one on the keychain I had made. The one I gave you the night we decided to start a family. The one that reminds me of hope and dreams and the man you were… before. I’ve been using it ever since… Thankfully, I still have mine on my office key ring, which is somewhere at the bottom of my purse. A useless set of keys I still carry. At least they have purpose today. So I dig them out, my hand still shaking.
Inside, I tuck myself into the spare bed—I haven’t slept in our room alone yet. It still smells of Connor. I lie on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling for hours, until an alarm on my phone alerts me to the fact that if I don’t get moving, I’ll miss my appointment with Dr. Alexander this evening.