She makes her cup of long-awaited cinnamon tea, climbs the stairs, flops onto the bed, and wishes she could just shut out all the noise and sleep for a couple of days and wake up with everything back to normal, but instead, she takes a sip, places her mug on the nightstand and looks up GPS trackers for cars. She is stunned by how easy it is. For twelve bucks on Amazon, she can buy a little gadget that syncs to her phone and shows her where Drew goes in real time. It will be delivered overnight—4–8 a.m. to be exact. Perfect.
Before she can sit and let her mind reel and go to all the terrible dark places it will wander to, wondering what’s to become of her son, her phone pings. She reads the text.
They located Tia!
Chapter Twelve
Andi
Fuck! Her phone!How did I not think to look for a phone in Tia’s clothing? I barely looked at her, really. I saw the blood on her head and felt for a pulse. I covered her up right away and haven’t looked at her or checked her pockets or anything since. I only saw it lying on the concrete garage floor next to the freezer after we got home from the party—a phone I didn’t recognize—and then I put it together. Shit. Fuck. It must have fallen out of her pocket when Carson hit the freezer. Tia had a phone. What a stupid error.
I rested easy that she did not have a phone because the cops said that either it was off or the settings forservice locationandGPSwere turned off, making it untraceable. Most people would think that meant maybe she had an accident and her phone was destroyed when she fell off a cliff somewhere, or maybe she was murdered and the killer turned her phone offor destroyed it. But if you’re me, you don’t think those things. If you’re me, you assume the police would have had the place surrounded if her phone traced to my house.
I don’t know what I assumed about her phone. At first, I didn’t even consider it. Then when there was news about it not being locatable, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had gotten lucky and really didn’t know what the hell happened to it besides maybe it fell into the lake on her run or it died. But here it is. It’s on. There’s no security code to open it. This has to mean that she is the one who disabled her GPS or it would be pinging and they’d find it—find me. Jesus. I have to get rid of it immediately. I need to get rid of her, God help me.
When we arrived home from the party, I made popcorn. Carson and the kids turned onSurvivorand are all on the couch at the moment. I ducked out. I had to get that padlock back on the freezer, but the fall broke it. I thought maybe it was just forced open and it would still close, but it’s useless and I can’t lock it. The freezer is lying on its side with bits of blue tarp sticking out the bottom, and for the love of God, I have to at least get it locked and get rid of this phone. Then, tomorrow, I’ll find a space of time when everyone’s gone to safely move her.
I stare at the freezer in a stunned silence. I’m so absolutely fucked. I have to act right this second. I have to do something right now or that’s it. I pop into the kitchen and grab my keys and breezily tell Carson we’re out of a few things for Chloe’s lunch tomorrow, and when he says she just wants PB&J, I blame it on my period and tell him I’m going to grab monthly things and he stops asking questions.
I take River Road and drive along the wet two-lanestretch—it should give me ample opportunity to find a clearing where I can pull over to drop the phone into the river, without any record of me going somewhere totally off the grid or out of character.
The rain has turned into a thin drizzle and my windows are fogging up as I white-knuckle the steering wheel, trying not to speed, trying not to hyperventilate. At every stop sign, I scan my surroundings, trying to find the perfect inconspicuous place to slip out, and when I drive past the riverwalk, I see a couple walking in woolly coats and patrons having drinks next to heaters on bar patios on the street. At the next stop sign, I glance around, paranoid that anyone I know might see my car even though right now all I’m doing is driving down the road to a store. Nothing suspicious here.
At the next stoplight I glance to the warm lit windows of businesses and restaurants along the street and see everything I long for. To be fucking normal and not have the world crumbling around me. Just a woman at See’s Candy buying a bag of chocolate turtles; part of a couple at Barney’s Hardware, looking at a fall wreath in the storefront window; an elderly woman throwing the pigeons sunflower seeds from her purse as she waits for a bus. What I wouldn’t give to be any of them right now—to be anywhere else right now.
I pass the riverwalk area and the trees thicken, and after a few minutes, I decide this is as good a place as any. I pull over to a parking space at a scenic overlook. There are only three spots and of course nobody is here in the dark and the mist, so I step out of the car and clutch the phone in my hand. I brought Clorox wipes in my pocket to get rid of any fingerprints on the phone before I drop it. All I have to do now is hurry.
I get myself to the rocky overlook and pull out a wipe. My hands are trembling. As I’m trying to wipe the phone clean, I start to lose hold of it. The mist and the alcohol cause it to slip from my grip, and as I fumble and catch it, to my horror, I realize I must have hit a button, because it’s calling the last number dialed. Jesus Christ. Tia’s phone is calling Ray! I click it off, hold my heart and almost scream from sheer shock.
Then I fling it. I panic and just fling it toward the river. I watch it hit a protruding rock below and snap and then... blip. It drops into the river and washes away. I race to my car and speed away as fast as I can.
My mind reels as I drive, nervously thinking about our world of cameras and tire-track forensics and cell towers. There will be evidence now that her phone pinged off this tower. Even if the tracking and service location are all off and untraceable, I’m sure that changes once the phone is in use. Fuck!
I shakily pull into CVS, and I know I’m on camera and I think about all of the shows I’ve seen where the idiot criminal is caught buying duct tape and bleach at a Walmart and I don’t know if buying a padlock looks bad. Will Carson notice the new padlock and ask about it? Then I’d be screwed anyway. But what choice do I have? I buy some random items I scarcely even look at—throwing KitKat bars and face scrub and Gatorade into my basket, casually looking for the aisle that would have padlocks. I spot them next to office supplies. Just a small section with a few notebooks, tape, pens and tools.
I don’t know what makes me do it—perhaps I’m just overcome with adrenaline—but I purposefully drop the small plastic package the padlock is in onto the floor. Then I reach down and, in a moment of insanity, think it’s a good idea to drop it inside my fuzzy UGG boot and walk out with it sothey don’t have a paper trail of me purchasing it. It’s not like it’s a shovel or zip ties, but I know I’m under suspicion and I can’t take any chances.
I feel sweat forming under my coat as I walk to self-checkout. I scan my items. A small line forms behind me. The machine gives instructions and with each item it seems to unnecessarily shout at me. Put your CHEWY CAT TREATS in the bagging area. Put your MAYBELLINE EYE CONCEALER in the bagging area, announcing to everyone around each item I purchased. Then, of course I bought tampons in case Carson were to notice, which he won’t, but still. So the machine yells, please put your TAMPON PEARL in the bagging area, and I see Mr. Whittiker from the PTA in the other checkout line, and I feel a prick of embarrassment as if that matters one freaking iota right now, but still, I notice my face flush.
I feel the padlock inside my boot. I think for a second that maybe I should lean down and pick it up to scan, but I can’t have PADLOCK screamed across the store. I just can’t. I insert my card, steadying my hands to do so, and then I take my plastic bags of items, silently chiding myself for not remembering my reusable bags and wasting plastic. Again, a ridiculous thing to be concerned about in this moment, but nothing is rational right now. Everything is louder and brighter than it should be, and I have to get out of here.
I pluck my receipt from the feeder and hurry out the front automatic doors. I pick up the pace to my car, feeling the hard plastic of the padlock package digging into my skin. I try not to look like I’m panicked, but then I hear a voice behind me.
“Ma’am?” It’s the clerk. She’s followed me out. “Ma’am,” she says again, and I pretend not to hear. I walk even faster, trying not to break out into a sprint, but she’s right behindme. I think of getting arrested and going to jail and Carson finding the freezer unlocked, the body inside, while I’m being arraigned for theft... and then they’ll find out what I’ve really done. Oh, my God. I start to run.
“Ma’am. Stop!”
Chapter Thirteen
Regan
I hear howling—the sobs and shrieks of my daughter, standing at the top of the stairs, too afraid to come down, afraid I’m dead. It’s her screaming that wakes me up. I blink my eyes open and wonder how long I’ve been out. Hours? Or maybe only seconds; maybe Hallie was already on her way down when she heard the noise. I see broken glass. The egress window is shattered from where the person must have escaped. I’m dizzy, still piecing together what happened, but I have to console my baby. I push myself up from the floor.
“It’s okay, honey. Hal. It’s okay. I just—I must have fallen. I’m okay,” I repeat, but I don’t feel okay. I’m lightheaded, nauseated and fucking terrified. I slowly steady myself on the wall and hold the rail. She holds out her arms, still hiccupping with sobs, and I carefully make my way up to the top of the stairs and hold her. She wraps her arms around me.
“I thought you died,” she cries. “I heard a noise. There was a man,” she says. I pull away, holding on to her shoulders, and look at her.
“What?” My fear turns into fury as I realize she saw this intruder who came to... look for something, it appears, or hurt me, maybe? I don’t even know, but the fact that she witnessed this outrages me, and I’m feeling helpless to protect her from all the crazy things that have been happening.
