Chapter 42
I rummage around the first aid box in the utility room and pick out what I think Marie will need to change the bandage on my hand.
I’ve already removed the old one to put my ring back on—which hurt so much it made my eyes water—and I am pleased to see the wound isn’t as bad as I thought.
Yes, my palm looks like it’s made of wax, and yes, in places it looks like I swiped it down a cheese grater, but it’s healing nicely.
Perhaps I am not as self-destructive as I think I am. I took it off the burner just in time.
In my bedroom, I check my phone. There’s a message from Roy.
I’ll be home in a couple of hours. We need to talk.
I swipe it off the screen. I won’t be here in a couple of hours. Marie and I will be at the police station with our thumb drive, thumping desks with our fists and demanding justice.
I walk up to Marie’s rooms with my supplies under my arm, mentally rehearsing what we should tell the police.
I’ve got some suggestions for Marie. I know she said she didn’t see Deborah’s face deteriorate, but I don’t think it would hurt for her to maybe…
not lie, exactly, but let’s say, extrapolate.
“Just tell them she was starting to look strange, older, and that she told you she was scared of him. And say that you saw Roy lock her up in that horrible little room. We know it’s true. We just want to add a little color to the scene, that’s all. To make it more convincing.”
I knock on her door. She doesn’t reply, but I can hear the water running in the bathroom. So I knock on that door.
“Marie, it’s me.”
“I’m in the shower. Please wait for me in my room. I’ll be right out.”
I open the door to her rooms and put down my supplies and walk out again.
I go to the little room where Roy kept Deb. I have a strange feeling that I might not be back here after today, and I just want to say goodbye to her.
I didn’t lock the door the last time I was here. I walk in. There’s a small skylight above the bed, so dirty that you can’t see the sky. The mattress is bare.
I lie down on it and close my eyes. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me, Deb. Honestly I would have staged a jail break if I’d known. I hope you’re happy, wherever you are. I miss you so much.
I open my eyes again and sit up, about to get up when something catches my eye.
Where the ceiling slants above the bed, between the wall and the exposed beam, a small corner of gray paper sticks out. I tug on it, and a little bit of dusty grit falls out. I tug harder, and pull out a small square of paper.
I unfold it.
My darling Jo.
I don’t even know why I’m writing this letter.
I guess I’m slowly going crazy locked up in here and I’ve been talking to you in my head, then I found this pencil in one of the boxes up here so here I am.
Anything to pass the time. You’re probably in your cell wondering why you’re not hearing from me.
I was so wrong about Roy, Jo. He has me locked up in here because he thinks I’ve been having an affair with the gardener.
One day, you and me will laugh at that, one of our big belly laughs, but meanwhile I am scared and filled with rage.
He’s not a good man, Jo. He’s controlling and jealous, and he’s been injecting my face with God knows what as some kind of punishment to make me ugly so no one will want me, but he pretends that I’m doing it to myself so he can cure me, like I’m one of his cases.
It’s twisted beyond belief, Jo. If I confess, he’ll stop and let me out, but I will admit to nothing. I’ve done nothing wrong.
It’s going to be all right because Marie is helping me.
I will tell you all about Marie when I see you.
She works for Roy but she’s my friend, He brings me food on a tray, and sometimes she comes with him to take the tray away, but she always manages to whisper in my ear and she told me she’s going to find a way to steal the key and let me out when Roy is at work. Maybe even tomorrow.
Meanwhile I’ve asked Roy for some paper and pencil and paper clips so I can write my confession.
I don’t know if he’ll fall for the paper clip part.
I hope so—then I can pick the lock and get out of here even if Marie can’t get the key.
I can’t wait to see you, my darling Jo. I miss you more than I can say.
I’ll come and see you at Perryville when I get out of here. I can’t wait. I love you.
Debs x
The letter in my hand is shaking so much I can no longer make out the words. And all I can think of is,
Dr. Davies gave me a week off. There was nothing wrong with Mrs. Deborah when I went on leave.
She lied to me. She’s still lying to me. She was here the whole time. She knew exactly what Roy was doing to Deb.
I put the letter in my pocket and run back down the hall. The shower is no longer running. I knock on Marie’s door but there’s no answer.
My heart is thumping. I open the door to her rooms, then I hear noises coming from the bathroom. So she’s out of the shower but she’s still getting ready.
I have to get the thumb drive. She said she’d left it in a safe place, but where?
I do remember her glancing at her dresser, so I open the top drawer.
It snags, and I have to tug at it to open it fully.
Inside, all I find is a handful of photographs of her and her brother, folded handkerchiefs, some leather gloves and a jewelry box with a handful of earrings. No thumb drive.
I close it and open the drawer underneath. Inside is a clear plastic pouch with three syringes inside. I feel a twist in my stomach. Why would Marie have syringes?
I rummage through the drawer to see what else I can find. At the back is a blue plastic pouch with vials of liquid. They have stickers on them with names I don’t understand.
I’m going to be sick. So it was her. She was the one injecting Deb, and now me.
I hear a scraping sound from the bathroom. I need to get out of here. I close the drawer but again, something snags. I open it again and feel with my fingers along the top. A small square of plastic is stuck in there. I pry it out.
It’s the thumb drive. Thank God.
I slip it in my pocket.
I’m about to walk out just as the connecting door opens behind me, sending my heart into a somersault. I turn around to see Marie, barefoot, in a bathrobe. She’s not looking at me because she’s drying her hair with a towel, her head down. “I’ll be ready in a moment.”
My heart is in my throat. “Sure, take your time.” I lean back against the drawer to close it silently.
She stops drying her hair and looks up. “Are you all right?”
“Yes! Yes. I’m nervous, but I’m all right. I barely slept.”
“Same,” she says. “Where’s Roy?”
Where’s Roy? “He went to the police station. They wanted to talk to him about Veronica. He should be back soon.”
She tilts her head at me. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
I take a sharp breath. “I just want to get it done, you know?”
“Yes. Forgive me. Just give me a minute.”
“No problem.”
She walks through to the adjoining bedroom. I pull out my phone and let out a loud puff of frustration. “Darn. Something’s come up.”
Marie puts her head around the door. “What happened?”
It’s a testimony to how few friends or hobbies I have in my life that the only excuse I can come up with is, “It’s Meredith.”
“What’s happened to Meredith?”
“I don’t know yet, but it’s important. I have to go. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Two hours?”
I raise one shoulder and let it fall. “Can’t be helped.”
“But can’t it wait?”
“I’m afraid not.” I walk backward to the door.
She juts her chin at the first aid kit supplies on the coffee table. “But your hand?”
“I’ll do it when I get back.” At the door, I stop. “By the way, what kind of nurse were you?”
“Cosmetic surgery. Why?”
I tap the doorjamb and force a smile. “No reason. You’re very good, that’s all.”
I run downstairs to my room, close the door, and lean against it. My mind is spinning. How is it possible that…
Then I remember something. I dig under the mattress for Deb’s appointment book, flick through the pages quickly. I land on the page where she scrawled—with some difficulty—2210 Horizon Oak Circle 305. Thousand Oaks.
That’s the clinic. And I would bet my bottom dollar that’s where Marie was fired from. Deb didn’t go there to get any work done. She went there to find out about Marie.
She’d figured it out.
That means she must have gotten out.
I don’t know if he’ll fall for the paper clip part. I hope so.
I zero in on the next page.
ITS HIM DOING IT.
Except that’s not what it says, I see that now. I bring the page up close and squint at it. It’s the scratch of the pen that got me. She was trying to write, but she didn’t have the strength, and it left marks that meant nothing. The ones that matter spell:
ITS M DOING IT.
She was warning someone, someone who might follow in her footsteps. If I die, It’s M. M for Marie.
I hear something. A door closing. Is it coming from downstairs? Is Roy home? I run to the bathroom, lock the door, and sit on the edge of the bathtub.
I’m not ready for Roy. I stand, my ear to the door and wait. He’ll go into his office, surely, and I can slip out unnoticed. But then…
Someone’s up here. In the bedroom. I can hear them moving around, breathing.
So Roy came up here first.
I close my eyes. I’m going to have to face him. I may as well get it over with.
I open the door a crack. I’ve only opened it by a hair when I realize.
It’s not Roy, standing in front of my dresser, rummaging through my drawers.
It’s Marie.