Page 100 of The Girl from Widow Hills
“She’s a nurse in the ER, hangs out in our lounge a bunch. Older than us. She was friends with Elyse.” I remembered the name now. The person who lived next door to Elyse, in 121. “She was supposed to fill in for us and then quit. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It doesn’tmatter. She quit now. So no one’s gonna know. I’m the only one. I didn’t escalate it. It’s in my bag, I’m taking it home. I’ll get rid of it there.”
The opposite of how I’d disposed of the box cutter.
My hand was shaking, though. Because someone else knew I’d been inside the medicine room. And someone else knew I’d been in a patient room—did she know about the box cutter? If she had reported me to Bennett, would she have reported the rest to the police?
I could remember only one nurse in the lounge the day I’d sneaked into the medicine room. That curly auburn hair, facing away. I hadn’t known her; hadn’t thought she knew who I was, either. Now I was worried about what else she had seen. What else she knew.
“Liv, please. Say something.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He moved his lower jaw, and I thought I probably already knew the answer. Because he hadn’t decided what to do with it. And now the decision had been made easier for him.
“You had a lot going on,” he said. “A lot to deal with already. I thought I was helping.”
We pulled onto my road, but I was still working through this piece of information. Bennett had caught me in the medicine room; he’d heard everything the detective said that first day; he knew about Dr. Cal; he’d been through the things in my house while I was unconscious; he’d convinced me not to search harder for Elyse.
“Take it,” he said, looking straight at me before turning in to my driveway. “Take the paper and destroy it. There’s no copy.”
He’d also given me the information for a lawyer; he’d also shown up any time I called. At some point, I had to choose to trust him and the things he told me. “Okay,” I said.
He parked the car behind my own in the driveway, looking to the house. “Can I come in for a sec?” he asked. “Make sure everything’s okay?”
I understood what he meant: make sure we’re okay.
Bennett would be leaving for work. The detective was gone. I thought of Elyse all alone at the campgrounds. What might happen to any of us with no one around and no one noticing when something was wrong.
“Yeah, come on in,” I said. “How long do you have?”
He checked his phone and grimaced. “Not long.”
He followed me up the steps, followed me as I unlocked the front door, dropping the X-rays on the entryway table, walking straight into the kitchen.
I caught him yawning when I turned around. “You need a break,” I said. We all did after this. I thought of Dr. Cal’s suggestions: to take care of myself, make sure I was getting rest and putting myself first.
“I do, and I’m planning on it,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “I’ve got so much vacation accrued, it’s ridiculous. I’m really bad at taking breaks.”
“I’ve noticed,” I said, smiling.
“Well, I’m going to take some time off. Starting this weekend. So, I’ll be around.” He grinned. We stood there in my kitchen in silence.
“Can I help with anything before I go?” he asked.
I took down a glass from the cabinet with my right arm. “You can open the bottle of wine in the fridge,” I said. I hadn’t had any since I’d finished the last bottle, the night after the bar, the night I’d found Sean Coleman. And I wanted to get back to my routine. Relax, watch TV, fall asleep, wake up tomorrow for a fresh start.
He took the fresh bottle from the inside of the fridge door. Unscrewed the top. Held the bottle to my outstretched glass, poured more than I’d typically give myself.
His mouth twitched. “I don’t know how you drink this extra-sweet screw-top wine, Liv. Seriously.” He took a step closer, and I raised my glass. I didn’t know everything about him still, and it set my pulse thrumming.
“Dare you,” I said, holding out my glass.
“I have work.” But he took a tiny sip, indulging me. His nose crinkled up, tongue out to the side. “I mean, seriously. It’s really bad.” I laughed, and he grinned. “I really do have to go.”
“Go, then,” I said. “Leave me to my wine and television.”
I saw him out, standing on the front porch, watching his headlights disappearing, dusk settling in. Nothing but the crickets, the fireflies. Darkness at Rick’s house. The single light from down the hall in the kitchen, behind me. And I felt at home, and secure, and good.
Back inside, I took the glass of wine into the living room, settling on the couch. I turned on the television, tipping the glass back.
