Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
At the traffic lights, I check the map. I’m close—ten minutes or so. I memorize the next few turns and am about to put the phone down when it rings.
Not Bradley, and not the police.
It’s a Canadian number.
I answer just as the lights change. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Brie?” Her voice reverberates from the car speakers, loud and angry.
“Yes?”
“This is Caroline Marcus. You messaged me about Pine Ridge.” Her voice wavers a little, as if she’s doing everything in her power not to scream at me. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but I can’t help you. I’ve spent the last five years trying to forget about that place.”
I can tell she’s about to hang up, so I blurt out, “Grace is dead.”
A pause. “Well, shit. What happened?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I almost feel bad. I suppose Bradley’s still alive?”
“Yes.”
“Shame it’s not the other way around.”
“What did you say?”
“Did that shock you?” she laughs. “Don’t tell me, you’re under his spell.”
“I’m not under anyone’s spell.”
“If you’ve been living at Pine Ridge and you don’t want Bradley dead, then I’d say you’re under his spell. Here’s all I can tell you. He’s a monster. They both are, but he’s so much worse. He’s a narcissist and a liar, and you can’t trust him. Not about anything.”
I want to argue with her, but instead she keeps talking.
“God, that place. They toyed with me. Grace was no angel. She used to humiliate me, gaslight me, and make me think I was in danger. They knew I had nowhere else to go, and so they pushed and pushed. It was all a stupid game to them, but I honestly think it’s ruined my life. I suppose this all sounds familiar.”
I can’t speak. She continues.
“And Bradley! He made me think he loved me. He laid it on so thick. I’d never had anyone say that to me, especially not someone like him.
He was a real adult man, educated, wealthy.
I was just a kid back then, just out of college.
Anyway, eventually I got so scared that I ran away.
Their creepy neighbor gave me a ride into the city, and I stayed at a friend’s house for two weeks, until all the media and police stuff got too intense for her.
I was going to tell my story when Grace made an offer.
A hundred thousand dollars to keep my mouth shut, taken from her trust fund. She told me it was all for her book.”
She stops talking, and I can hear her blowing her nose away from the phone. After a few seconds of silence, she recovers.
“Such bullshit. But anyway, I took the money. And I’m just calling to say sorry. Because maybe if I’d told the police, you might not be in whatever situation you are now.”
“Bradley said Grace tried to kill you. And she ended up stabbing Bradley instead.”
She snorts. “That wasn’t from Grace. He’s had that since he was a baby. He had heart surgery or something. Ah, I was such an idiot! Brie, don’t be like me. Don’t fall for his shit. Run. Run as far as you—”
As the phone cuts out, I find that I’m close to the house rented by Grace’s family. There’s no time to think, no time to process.
I park on the street, step outside, and force myself to walk up the path. Whatever truth there might be in Caroline’s story, I still need to tell him about the police. He hasn’t been making great decisions since Grace’s death, and there’s every chance he left incriminating evidence on the property.
But before I can get to the door, it swings open.
Bradley! I resist the urge to run up and hug him, but I can’t help but smile. For the last 24 hours, I’ve had to face everything alone: the funeral, Jesse, the police.
“What are you doing here?”
I’m about to step closer, but his tone is harsh. It’s like a warning shot. I get it. We can’t be too friendly.
“I need to tell you something. The police—”
“You need to leave me alone!” He’s projecting his voice like an actor trying to reach the back row. It’s probably loud enough for people in the neighboring houses to hear. “This is wildly inappropriate.”
“What’s going on?” I reach out to him, but he pulls away. “Bradley, please!”
“You’re obsessed with me! It’s not healthy.”
I see movement over his shoulder. A small woman is standing at the door. She looks like Grace, if Grace wore mom jeans.
I lower my voice. “Is this for them?”
“My wife just died!” he says, and if I didn’t know this was an act, I’d say he was genuinely angry at me. “Give me some peace! Please!”
I step back as if he’s slapped me. Even though this is a performance, he’s selling it much more than he needs to. Couldn’t he just be polite? Why does he need to yell?
“The police are at Pine Ridge,” I say rapidly. “That’s why I’m here. I thought you might want to know.”
To my surprise, I see his mouth curve slightly at the edge. “You should go.”
“Don’t you want to call someone?” I lower my voice to a whisper. “A lawyer, maybe? Who knows what they’ll find?”
His eyes shift from mine to the street behind me. “I think maybe I could give you the same advice.”
I look over my shoulder to see Detective Gelman getting out of her car. A police cruiser has pulled up behind her.
“Oh no. Bradley. They must have found something!”
This is it—the nightmare is coming true. They’re going to arrest him in front of Grace’s family. It’s all over.
Except when Gelman makes it up the front path, she stops before she gets to Bradley.
“Ms. MacKenzie.”
“What?” I imagine, stupidly, that she’s come to tell me that the pickup needs a warrant. Maybe the rear tire is a little flat. Or my brake lights are out.
Something normal.
“Come with us, please.”
“Why?” I say, feeling myself beginning to hyperventilate. “No. I don’t want to. Bradley! Tell her!”
But he simply crosses his arms and glares at me. As if he doesn’t love me. As if he doesn’t even know me.
“I have to insist.” She grabs my arms firmly. “We need to ask you some questions concerning the death of Grace Little.”