Page 84 of Dear Debbie

He must have seen this location in my history from when I visited Harley earlier in the week, even though I was careful to turn off my phone for this particular excursion. I didn’t even realize he knew where to look for that. He’s probably been driving around everywhere I’ve been in the last week, searching for me.

“Debbie!”

Why did he come here? Why couldn’t he have just waited at home until I was done with everything I had to do?

“Debbie! Debbie, I love you! Please!”

His words tug at me. I look down at the man lying unconscious on the sofa. I have spent the last eight months thinking about how he ruined my life. I had thought I was over it, but when I saw him, my hate and anxiety and shame over what happened to me grew with each passing day until I couldn’t bear it any longer.

But that’s unfair. My life isn’t ruined. My life is good in many ways. Yes, I didn’t end up with the career that I’d hoped to have. But I have two wonderful daughters. And I have a husband who loves me enough to drive around the South Shore in the middle of the night searching for me.

I have a lot.

But I can’t just abandon my entire plan. Two people are dead. And if I walk away right now, I’m going to take the blame for everything. I don’t have a choice anymore.

I put my right index finger over Jesse’s, and I pull the trigger.

69

When I exit Harley’s front door, I peel off my leather gloves and put them in my purse. The gun has been left behind, as planned.

I come around the side of the house, where Cooper has stopped screaming my name and is trying to look in one of the windows. Actually, he looks like he’s about to break in. He’s got a suspiciously large rock in his right hand, which he is raising in the air. I better put a quick stop to this.

“Cooper?”

He whirls around, arm still raised. His eyes widen when he sees me, and the rock falls from his right hand. He doesn’t say a word, but he runs over and throws his arms around me.

“Debbie,” he murmurs into my neck. “Jesus, I was so worried.”

At first, he is hugging me while I stand there stiffly. But after a few seconds, I realize I’m hugging him back. And then we’re clinging to each other. It takes a good several minutes before we pull away.

“I was so worried,” he says. “I thought I heard a gunshot.”

He absolutely did. But the bullet in question is lodged in the ceiling of Harley’s apartment.

Jesse is still alive.

“What was that sound?” he presses me.

“I didn’t hear anything,” I say. “Maybe it was a car backfiring?”

He looks like he doesn’t quite believe me, but he doesn’t push it. “What are you doing here?”

“A friend of mine lives here.” It’s the truth for once. “She has the basement apartment with the entrance in the back. I came to see her, but I guess she forgot because she’s not answering her door.”

“Oh.”

He seems to believe me. There’s no reason he shouldn’t. He doesn’t know Harley, except from in passing at the gym, and has no reason to think I’d do anything to harm this stranger.

“So, uh…” I glance at our cars, trying not to think about that crime scene behind us. Does Cooper recognize Jesse’s car? He hasn’t mentioned it. “Should we go?”

“Not yet.” He grabs both my hands in his and squeezes tight. “I need you to know something, Debbie.”

“Okay…”

He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. “I have a drinking problem.”

I blink at him. It’s not what I expected him to say. “What?”