Page 56 of Promise Me Never

“Tell me.”

“Their families reported them missing shortly after they left Bennett, but Bennett showed the police the texts and the engagement rings they left, so they believed him. Assumed the women had left on their own. But no one has seen either of them since.”

Savannah was flabbergasted. She started to say something about the article she’d come across about his high school girlfriend but stopped herself.

“Why haven’t you gone to the police?”

“And say what? I have no evidence. They’re not going to go after him without more proof. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t warn you.”

Savannah needed time to think. This was all too much. “What do you want from me?”

“Be careful. Do some digging while he’s away. If he forgot to get rid of the medicine, maybe he messed up in other ways too.” She pulled a piece of paper from her purse. “I wrote their full names down. Look for yourself. Both from New York. Angela from Queens and Devon from Brooklyn.”

Savannah took the paper and leaned in toward Isabel, looking into her eyes. “This is someone you’ve known your whole life. Your good friend. You honestly believe he’s a killer?”

Isabel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she stared back at Savannah, tears forming in them. “I do. God help me, I do. Do your own research. You have my number. Call me after you’ve had time to let this sink in.”

Isabel downed the rest of her drink in one swallow and got up and left.

When the server came over, Savannah went to hand her her credit card, but she shook her head. “Your friend already paid.”

Savannah replayed the conversation in her mind. Could any of this be true? Was her husband a killer? And was she next?

| Fifty |

Savannah

As soon as she got home, Savannah went straight to her laptop. She looked up Angela first but didn’t find any articles or even a Facebook page. She picked up her phone and tried Instagram. Angela had a page, but nothing had been posted for over four years. Her last post was one of her and Bennett on his boat. Then nothing. Savannah scrolled through the earlier posts, most nature photos. A few of her with friends or what Savannah assumed were family. She went back to the laptop and put Devon’s name into the search bar, then typed the word missing, but nothing came up. She navigated to Facebook and searched for her. A page came up, the cover photo a picture of Devon and Bennett in front of the tree at Rockefeller Center. She was a beautiful woman: long blond hair and a svelte figure. There were no posts from her for at least two years, but there were plenty of comments from numerous friends on her page beseeching her to come home. Savannah looked through her friend list and found a man with the same last name: Harrison Masterson. She clicked on his page. Devon’s father. The entire page was devoted to finding his daughter. Missing posters, heart-wrenching posts from him to his daughter begging her to surface. Savannah opened a new browser and went to People Search and typed his name. An address came up in Brooklyn. She wrote down the address and phone number and closed the computer.

Savannah’s unease grew. She sat back, drumming her fingers on the table, thinking. What would she even say if she called the man? Would he be willing to talk to her? And should she pretend to be someone else? Maybe he would be able to shed some light on why Devon might have left town. Just because he was looking for her didn’t mean something bad had happened. Maybe he was abusive. But as Isabel pointed out, she wouldn’t have left her insulin. That wasn’t optional. It made no sense. But neither did thinking that Bennett had killed these women. Her head was pounding. Finn ambled over and nudged her with his nose. She looked at her watch. Five o’clock. His dinnertime.

“Sorry, boy, I’ll get right to it.”

She fed the dog and sat back down, returning to Devon’s Facebook page, hoping to get a sense of the woman from the things she’d shared. She hadn’t posted often, and what she did post were social occasions. Parties, nights out with friends. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the photo of the two of them arm in arm, Devon holding out her hand for the camera. She was showing off her engagement ring. Savannah zoomed in to get a better look, but it was too blurry.

Her stomach growled and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out the baked ziti Felicia had left. She’d told the woman that she preferred low-carb meals, but that didn’t stop her from making some sort of pasta dish at least twice a week. She would never lose those ten pounds at this rate.

She was wiped out. She’d decide what to do tomorrow. After she took Finn outside to do his business, he followed her upstairs. She needed to get her mind off everything, so she picked up the novel she was in the middle of and began to read. Soon her eyes were heavy, and she put the book down and turned off the light. As she drifted off to sleep Devon’s face was the last thing she saw in her mind’s eye.

| Fifty-One |

Bennett

Sometimes he sees them in his dreams. Like a carousel, one face morphing into the next. After Devon, Bennett was convinced there was something wrong with him—a piece missing. It made him unlovable. But then he met Poppy and she made him feel worthy of love. He kept waiting for her to stop loving him like the others had, but it didn’t happen. At least for a while. If only she had stayed out of his office, everything would have been all right. She would still be alive, and he wouldn’t feel so empty. Savannah was sweet and devoted, but he was worried that he had made a mistake in marrying her. She couldn’t fill the hole in his heart that Poppy had left. He thought of that old Stephen Stills song, “Love the One You’re With,” and thought wryly that that was what he would have to do.

It was time to let go of Poppy once and for all and concentrate on Savannah. Having another woman living with him again made him realize that he might not be able to keep his secret forever. Poppy had found out and threatened to tell. Maybe Savannah would understand. Even help him to stop. Whenever he thought about what he’d done, he was filled with shame. But he couldn’t help it. He had tried and no matter how hard he resisted he always returned to the siren song. It was too tempting. And too easy. Savannah could be his opportunity to turn over a new leaf. They could work together, and he could find his way back from the abyss. It was his only hope. If it didn’t work, then she would have to go too.

| Fifty-Two |

Savannah

Savannah’s sleep was fitful, and she woke up exhausted, even though she had turned in so early. Finn was curled up at the foot of the bed but as soon as he realized she was awake, he moved toward her and rested his head on her arm.

“Okay, I’m up,” she said. “Let’s go.” He jumped down and she moaned as she crawled out of bed and followed him downstairs. She opened the back door for him and moved in slow motion toward the coffee machine and popped in a K-cup. Grabbing her mug, she poured some cream into it. She stared out the window at the vast woods behind the house, the feeling of isolation once again overtaking her. Finn, seeming to sense her mood, came back inside and nudged her hand with his nose. She petted his head, then returned to the table and sat back down. She needed to talk to Henri. See what he knew about Poppy’s relationship with Bennett. After a moment of indecision, she grabbed her phone and sent a text to Isabel.

S: Can you give me Henri’s phone number

Seconds later her text tone sounded with the number.