Chapter 48
My flashlight passes over something so sickening my stomach squeezes. I kneel down for a closer look, unable to process what I’m looking at.
Two zip ties lie coiled on the wooden floor like two dead worms, the teeth marks revealing the smaller one had been chewed in half and the larger one smoothly cut.
Probably from a tool Ivory had found lying around.
The smaller one for her wrists, the larger one for her ankles.
The visual of her wounded wrists comes back to me uninvited.
A shelf of paint cans lines the wall, and one sits crookedly on the floor next to the zip ties.
The paint rimming the lid is white, but there is a clear spot of red along the edge of the base.
Like it had been used as a weapon on someone’s face.
Specifically Ivory’s face, where I saw a cut and bruises.
Dried blood is smeared in uneven strokes across the plywood floor, up the rotting walls.
Ivory’s initial story about the abduction was never made up after all—this proves she had been bound.
Through the broken window I catch a lamp illuminating Fred’s window as his silhouette passes back and forth across the room.
Fred effortlessly lied to my face about not having an affair.
And I fell for it again when he lied about not abducting Ivory.
I step in something wet that sticks my shoe to the floor. For a second I hold my breath as I shine my light downward. A fresh, glistening trail of blood leads toward a floor-to-ceiling garden tool bin in the corner.
“I know you’re in here,” I whisper. “Are you okay?”
I follow the bloody trail, every step feeling like I’m walking into a nightmare.
When I reach the plastic door, my hand shakes so badly I have to grip the rusted metal handle with both hands just to keep hold of it.
I pull it open and skim the tiny space with my flashlight.
Ivory is there, huddled but unmoving inside, arms loosely wrapped around her knees, braids hanging over her face.
Blood drenches her shirt in a wide red bloom.
“Ivory!” I drop down beside her, pressing my hand to her cheek. It’s wet—thankfully not with blood but tears. Her skin feels unnaturally cold. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
She flinches at my touch, then blinks up at me like she’s not certain I’m real. “I have you to thank for that…” She grins weakly, and her voice is barely a sound.
“I’m so sorry, Ivory. I never wanted to hurt you! I thought you were trying to kill me.”
She presses her finger to my lips and lets out a long, “Shhh. It’s okay, Shar. I know you didn’t mean to. We both messed up. But that’s not why I’m here. I have to give something to you.”
She weakly shifts around, patting her hand on the floor finding nothing but empty space.
“Don’t worry about that right now.” I reach down, trying to squeeze my arm under her legs. “I’m going to lift you up and get you to the house.”
“No!” Her hand clamps onto my wrist, surprisingly strong.
I’m worried I’m hurting her, making it worse. “Then I’ll call 9-1-1. They should be here in a couple minutes. Just hang on, okay?”
She grabs my phone before I can dial and tosses it across the shed. “No doctors. No police. I have to find it.”
“Find what?” I stare at her, stunned. But she’s fading. Fast. “Ivory, you’ll die if we don’t get you to a hospital. It’ll be okay. I’ll be there for you.”
Her lips tremble. A fresh tear slips down her cheek, streaking through the dirt. “I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t go to the police,” she mutters weakly. Her eyes flutter and I’m terrified I’m losing her.
“You won’t go to jail. I know Fred actually did abduct you. I saw the zip ties. And the bruises on your face—”
“It wasn’t Fred,” she states firmly. “A paint can fell on my head. Go look for yourself.”
Maybe that part is true, but those zip ties don’t lie. “You don’t need to cover for him, Ivory. He can’t hurt you anymore. But we need to make sure the police know what he did to you.”
She shakes her head, but it’s barely a movement. “I don’t deserve your compassion.” She swallows hard, eyes shifting to the shadows behind me.
“I stabbed you, girl. It’s the least I can do.”
“Well, I stabbed you first, Shar. Give credit where credit is due,” she says with a fragile chuckle. “But that’s not what I mean.” Her breaths are coming out wet and wheezy now. It’s going to be too late to save her if we don’t leave now. “I need to give you something important.”
I nod, hoping this will be quick because we’re running out of time.
“When Ram broke my heart for the second time,” her eyes open, then drift shut again as if her life force is being sucked out of her, “I never recovered from the heartbreak. Ram knew it too, because he kept tabs on me just to keep my life intertwined in his. He stayed in contact with me for years, and while I was happy with Fred and never betrayed my husband, I couldn’t just shut Ram out. He knew this and used it against me.”
I had always known Ivory was fettered to her past, but I wish it had been to someone more worthy of her affection.
“Ram told me you stole money from him, and when I looked you up and saw your criminal record,” her voice breaks, “I assumed it was true. I was so stupid to believe him. So when Gillian asked me to help her avenge his death, I was willing to do anything to hurt the woman who killed my first love.”
My chest feels as hollow as her voice.
“But then as I got to know you over the past year, I started to doubt what I knew. I should never have trusted Gillian or gone along with her original plan to frame you for abducting me. Unfortunately it got a little out of hand…”
A little out of hand is the biggest understatement of the century. A woman was murdered, Fred was charged with kidnapping, and I nearly died in a hit-and-run.
“…but I had tunnel vision. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me when you killed Ram.”
“But I didn’t kill Ram!” I tell her.
“Of course I know that now. But I didn’t back then, Shar.”
“And what exactly were you planning to tell the police my motive was for abducting you? Because they’d never believe I’d abduct you without a reason.”
“Oh, Shar.” She laughs at this, and it sounds like her laugh.
The one she used every day with me when I’d say something silly or wear ridiculous thrift store sweatpants with Juicy across the butt.
“It was actually a pretty good motive I had created for you. I was going to paint you as a jealous best friend who went crazy when I started distancing myself from you and making other friends. With your criminal background I figured it’d be pretty believable. ”
Considering the secret I’ve been hiding from her, Ivory might know me better than I know myself.
“How very Single White Female. So what made you decide not to go through with it and to blame Fred instead?”
Ivory scoffs. “The bastard cheated on me, so he kind of sealed his own fate. But the nail in the plan’s coffin was Gillian turning into an actual psychopath.
When she killed that private investigator I knew I had to end this whole charade.
I’m so sorry for all of it, Shar. I thought I was angry with you for killing Ram, but really I was angry at him for hurting me and outsourcing my misery to you.
” Her breath hitches sharply, and I finally understand. Really understand.
Hurt doesn’t disappear. It relocates.
She had said this to me right before this all started. How true it was.
Her breaths are becoming shallower, her eyes barely able to stay open. At the rate she’s bleeding, I’m worried she won’t live long enough for me to find my phone she tossed amid all the junk.
“Ivory.” I reach for her hand and interlock her fingers between mine. “It’s time. I have to go get help.”
“First I need to give you this.” She twists around, reaching for something behind her and pulls it out. “Found it!”
She holds my hand open, palm up, and places the object in my hand. Looking down at it, I know what it means, what my friend who is like a sister—a dysfunctional somewhat crazy sister—is trying to tell me.