Chapter 45
What is Ezra doing here? I thought there was a chance he might stop by my apartment after he was done with work, but I don’t understand why he came here.
“Naomi!” he yells through the door. “Your car is in the driveway! Are you in there?”
Shit.
I stand there for a good minute, holding my breath and hoping he’ll give up, but he just keeps banging on the door.
He’s not going away—that much is obvious—and soon he’ll attract attention from the neighbors.
My best bet is to open the door for him and try to come up with some sort of reasonable explanation for why I am here.
He might not believe it, but he’s my lawyer, and I don’t think he’s going to turn me in.
I hope.
I crack open the door enough to see Ezra’s worried face peeking out at me. “Hi,” I say.
“Naomi.” He looks so utterly confused, I almost want to reach out and hug him. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” I retort.
He pushes against the door to open it the rest of the way, and I have to let him. He enters the house, looking around warily, a deep crease between his eyebrows. He’s still wearing the same cheap suit he must have worn for court today but sans jacket, with his tie loosened around his neck.
“I was looking for you,” he says in a hushed voice.
“I finished up at the courthouse for the day, and then I went to your place to see if, you know, if everything was okay. But you weren’t there, and then I remembered that your car was probably here, so I figured you went to get it.
So I waited, but when you didn’t come back, I figured I should check here. And then I saw your car…”
“Yes,” I confirm helpfully. “That’s my car.”
He glances around the foyer, searching for signs that there is someone here besides me. I’m scared to let him go any farther into the house, because I don’t want him to hear Veronica trying to call for help.
“I don’t get it,” he says. “Why are you here? Where’s Jeremy?”
“He’s on a business trip,” I say, grateful that I can at least tell him the truth about something. I feel guilty lying to Ezra after all he’s done for me. “In Boston.”
“Oh.” He looks at me, waiting for more of an explanation. When I don’t give it, he says, “So why are you here?”
“Well, he asked me to keep an eye on Teddy while he was gone.”
“Jeremy asked you to keep an eye on Teddy?” He frowns. “He filed a temporary order of protection yesterday, and then today he asked you to babysit? That doesn’t sound right.”
I shrug. “I guess he was desperate.”
Ezra is searching my face for clues to the truth. He definitely doesn’t believe me. Whatever else you can say about him, he’s a really smart guy, and he knows this doesn’t add up. But it’s fine if he doesn’t believe me. As long as he doesn’t know what’s really happening in this house.
“Anyway,” I say, “I appreciate you stopping by, but I’m fine. We should talk another time.”
I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to gently guide him in the direction of the door.
He pauses, then very reluctantly allows me to do it.
In his heart, he must know there’s something wrong, but he wants so badly to believe me.
And I probably would have been able to get him out the front door without incident, except that’s when the real screaming starts.
Up until now, Veronica’s yells have been muffled by the duct tape I put over her mouth. But I knew that tape had lost too much of its stickiness, and she must have gotten it off, because now I can hear her loud and clear. Both of us can.
“Help!” she hollers. “Please help me!”
Ezra’s eyes fly open wide. “Naomi? What the hell?”
He is no longer allowing me to direct him toward the door. He has changed course and heads back into the living room, where her wailing only grows louder. Except he can’t quite figure out where it’s coming from.
“What is that?” He looks panicked. “What’s going on, Naomi?”
“Look,” I say, stepping in front of him to keep him from looking around more. “This isn’t… I haven’t done anything wrong. This is just—”
“HELP!!!!!”
Oh God, why won’t she shut up? “Ezra, please…just wait one second…”
But Ezra isn’t listening to me anymore. He has identified the direction of the noises, and now he’s moving right for the cellar door. But I’m faster, and I jump in front of him, blocking his way.
He narrows his eyes at me as the screaming intensifies. “Move.”
“Ezra…”
“Right. Now.”
I can tell from the look on his face that if I don’t move away from the door, he is going to forcibly move me. So I step out of the way and allow him to turn the doorknob.
He stops short as an earsplitting shriek floats up the stairs. The noise is loud enough now that there’s no doubt where it is originating from. He flashes me a look of disbelief, and then he turns back to the staircase.
This is really bad. When Ezra discovers Veronica tied up, he’ll have to call the police.
And this time when they take me to jail, they’re not letting me out on my own recognizance again.
I have blown any chance I had of getting custody of my son.
I’ll be lucky if I ever get to see him again after this.
Why did Ezra have to come here? He ruined everything.
There’s only one way to fix this. There’s only one way to keep him from calling the police and having me hauled off to jail. There’s only one way to keep my son. I don’t want to do it, but it’s the only option I have left.
So before Ezra can take a step down the stairs, I place my hands on his back and push as hard as I can.