Chapter 53 Willow Morrow
Willow Morrow
“I saw Willow that night, the night that David disappeared. She was at the bar at the Onyx, dressed to the nines and taking shots as if they were candy.”
Willow stumbled away from Katie, bumping into the wall in her rush to the guest room, clutching the bottle of vodka to her chest. Just before she reached the door, she cast one last look over her shoulder.
Katie stood in the doorway to the basement, gaping after her.
Mark’s new wife wouldn’t understand why Willow was traumatized by the tour of what used to be a torture chamber.
And she never would, but that didn’t mean Willow couldn’t warn her, in a dozen little ways, of what her country-club-loving husband was really into.
One day, Katie might put all the pieces together.
One day, Mark might tell her. Or one day, she might skip a yoga class and decide to surprise Mark while he was on a “business trip,” or she’d look up his internet search history, and then all the pieces of her perfect world would crack and crumble and die.
As soon as Willow stepped into the guest room, she shut and locked the door. Her world pieces had cracked early on, before they were even married. She had no excuse for why she had stayed or why she had let it go on for so long, or why it had gotten so dark.
It was her fault. That was what Mark had said, over and over again, and he was right.
It was her fault. She could have behaved. She could have kept her mouth shut or her hands to herself or stopped drinking once she hit her buzz. She certainly could have walked away from the bar before someone ended up dead.