She picks up the photo from the floor and unfolds it. “I don’t believe it is.”
“I do.”
“Well then, you don’t know much about life, do you?” She finishes her glass and then tosses the photo back to me. I scrunch it up in my fist. “You’re very interesting, Brie. Much more than I initially expected, I have to admit.”
“I’m not a lab rat.”
“No, you’re just a girl who has spent the last few weeks?—”
She cuts herself off as Bradley enters the room. He pours himself a glass and sits next to Grace on the sofa. His comfort with us both in the room makes me angry, but I know I can’t express it.
“Brie,” Grace says. “Do you remember what I said at dinner, when you first moved in?”
I don’t respond. Grace smirks.
“I said if anyone touched my husband, I’d kill them. And then I’d kill myself. What did you think of me when I said that?”
“She thought you were a crazy writer,” Bradley says, patting her on the leg.
“Let her answer.”
“I thought—” I begin, unsure of what to say. I glance at Bradley, and he gives a slow, barely perceptible shake of his head. Grace is telling us both she knows what happened, and I now understand why. She wants me to admit the affair, so that Bradley violates the terms of his prenup and gets nothing. For all I know, she’s recording everything. “I thought it was funny.”
“Funny?”
“Yes, funny,” I say. “It was a joke. How else was I meant to take it?”
“It’s not for me to say.”
“Is it not?” It’s a weak retort, but as usual, I feel woefully out of my depth talking to Grace. Everything she says seems to have layers of meaning. “I should go. I’m tired.”
“Don’t go,” Bradley says, standing up. “I have a check for you. For all your hard work. Grace thought we should give you a bonus, too.”
He leaves the room, and I turn back to Grace, expecting to find her ready for another barbed exchange.
But this time, she’s standing, too.
And she has a gun in her hand. She must have been hiding it under her cardigan.
“Brie, it’s time for this to end.”
All the air leaves my body. She’s going to kill me, then kill Bradley, then kill herself. I knew it all along. She’s given me so many warnings. Why didn’t I listen? Why did I let Bradley convince me to stay?
“Grace,” I say, backing towards the door. I can feel it behind me, pressing against my lower back. I keep looking at her as I reach around and turn the handle. The gun is pointing at the floor. And just before I turn to leave, I see it rising.
But before she can fire, I’ve got the door open, and I’m sprinting into the hellish dusk.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I go up the driveway as fast as I can, praying she won’t follow, but I soon hear the slam of the front door. She’s behind me. I reach the path to the cottage, and I take it, because the road will be too exposed. She’ll shoot me in the back before I’ve gone a hundred yards.
It’s dark under the cover of trees, but I manage to keep running. When I get to the cottage, I hesitate for a second before scrambling up the stairs. I close the door behind me as softly as I can. I turn the key until it clicks, then place it in my pocket. I sit on the couch and pull my knees to my chin. With any luck, she’ll think I’ve gone into the woods.
There are still no gunshots, which means Bradley is still alive.
Bradley. Shit. I’ve left him alone with his jealous wife. She knows what we did together. She was about to say it outright before Bradley came back into the room. She knows, and she wants revenge—not just on me, but on both of us.
What if he doesn’t subdue her? What if she shoots him first?
