Page 81 of The Getaway

He sighed and glanced at the girls in the rearview mirror. “I’m just trying to get us to the highway as quickly as possible.” He gritted his teeth as he maneuvered around a turn and through a deep puddle, splashing silty mud onto the windshield.

“Okay, but you’re scaring us,” Vienna put in, and Florence tried to shush the dog. “And Mom’s right. You are acting weird.”

“Can all of you please just shut the fuck up so I can concentrate?” Grant snapped.

Gemma blinked. Had he just told them to shut the fuck up? He’d never said anything remotely like that to her or the girls in their entire lives. She risked looking into the back seat again and saw that the twins were both stunned, their faces ashen. Wintour stopped barking and shivered in Florence’s arms.

“Grant, what’s going on?” Gemma asked.

He didn’t respond. His nostrils flared. The sirens grew louder, which set Wintour off again. Gemma’s phone lit up with a text. She picked it up from between her thighs. It was from Lily.

Marley knocked out in storage room. Unconscious alive but not good. Grant was last to see Her. are you ok?

As if she’d just been speared through the heart, Gemma’s life flashed before her eyes. Meeting Grant at that Sig Ep mixer in college. Camping in the Appalachian foothills with him and his friends in the rain. Nursing him back to health when he had his wisdom teeth out. Grant down on one knee on the gondola in Luxembourg. Their wedding in Paris. Photos at the Eiffel Tower. Him carrying her over the threshold of their first house. Her burning the apple pie when they hosted Thanksgiving. The girls being born and taking their first steps and blowing out their first birthday candles. Kindergarten graduation. Breaking ground on their dream home. Their vacation to the Maldives. All those BVI trips. Eighth-grade dance. Junior prom. The hope on his face when he’d told her they were coming to the Hamptons.

It was all over. At that very moment. Everything had changed.

She had thought it was odd when he’d said he was going to help Marley and followed her back to the storage room. Why would she need help with a small first aid kit? But everything was so chaotic, she had just assumed he’d wanted a moment to himself. Had he actually gone back there to hurt Marley? Was it all tied back to the notes? Had she done this?

The only thing she was certain of at this very moment was that she needed air. She needed to gather herself and figure out what the hell was going on. And she really needed that dog to stop barking.

“Grant,” she said, trying like hell to keep her voice steady for the girls. For Wintour, even. “Pull over.”

“What?” He laughed a short laugh. “No.”

Suddenly he didn’t even look like himself. He looked like a scared little coward of a man.

“Pull over,” she repeated. “I want to get out of the car. And the girls are coming with me.”

“Gemma, stop.” His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, his shoulders hunched forward.

“I know about Marley, Grant. If you love me. If you’ve ever loved me or the girls, please just pull over and let us out. Then you can do whatever you want.”

A vein in her husband’s temple throbbed. She could see his jaw clenching. Could practically hear his thoughts whirling. She didn’t know what had happened between him and Marley, or what he may or may not have done to Lincoln. But she knew he loved his family more than anything else in the world. It was actually the only thing she knew for sure anymore.

“Mom, what do you mean you know about Marley?” Vienna said, leaning forward again. “What are you talking about? Dad, what is she talking about?”

Something hit the windshield and ricocheted off. They all screamed. The dog’s barks turned into long, sustained howling. The sirens were nearly deafening now.

Grant looked in the rearview. “Shit!”

Gemma and the girls turned. There was a Jeep bearing down on them from behind. Was that . . . Lily? Sean leaned out the side window waving them down, as if that was going to do anything. Grant pressed down on the gas pedal. The dog put her front paws up on Gemma’s seat back, balancing precariously, howling in Gemma’s ear.

“Grant, it’s over,” Gemma said, fingers pressing into her temples. “You have to stop the car.”

“No. We’re getting out of here. They can’t stop us. I can explain everything, Gem. I can explain.”

“Did you kill him, Grant? Did you kill Lincoln?”

If this was the last five seconds of her life, she needed to know. Five hours—hell, five minutes ago—she would have never believed it was possible, but now . . . she just needed to know.

Grant turned his head to look her in the eye. “I swear, I can explain.”

The truth was right there in his eyes, and in the moment, for just one moment, Gemma wanted to die.

Florence started crying in the back seat while the dog continued to wail. Vienna leaned back to hug her sister. “Dad, please just stop the car! You’re really freaking us out!”

And then, the moment passed. Her daughters were in this car. And she was not going to give up their life—or hers—for a man who had so completely betrayed them. She had to do something. But what?