Page 125 of The Lies I Told
“Of course I can meet you at my apartment.” I cupped my hand over the phone. “It’s Jo-Jo, Jack’s wife.”
David frowned, took a step to the right, freeing more of a path for me.
“Sure,” I said quickly. “I’m just visiting with David Welbourne at his home. Where’re you?”
“I’m driving to your place,” she said.
David’s eyes sharpened. The outside world had pierced this little bubble of ours, stunning him briefly. I dashed through the narrow space separating David and the wall and hurried across the living room to the front door. “Jo-Jo, I’m ten minutes away.”
I yanked open the front door, savoring the cool air sweeping across my flushed cheeks. I hurried down the stairs, the uneven paint skimming under my palms as I took the steps two at a time. I heard his footsteps behind me, not running but moving with quick, determined strides.
“Marisa, wait,” he said. “We need to talk.”
I didn’t turn back but hurried across the street. “Jo-Jo, if I’m not there in ten minutes, call the cops.”
“What’s going on? Are you really with David?”
“Yes. I got batteries for Clare’s camera. I’m certain one picture is of a younger David.”
“David? That doesn’t make sense.”
“I’ll explain it all when I see you.” I fumbled in my purse for car keys, my fingers skimming over sunglasses, tissues, gum, change, and wallet until they brushed the metal remote. I opened the door with a click. Heart pulsing, I slid behind the wheel, locked the door, and started the engine.
“Does Richards know you’re there?” Jo-Jo asked.
“I’m calling him now.”
“Be careful.”
“Right.” As I put the car in gear, David hurried across the street toward me. He held up his hand, reached for the door handle, but I shoved my foot on the accelerator and raced down the street.
The roar of the engine combined with adrenaline as I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw David staring after me. He was hurrying to his car. It all felt like a replay.
I drove down Broad Street quickly, but this time I was clearheaded as the sun’s red light glowed over parked cars, a handful of pedestrians, and then the side street I’d turned recklessly down months ago.
Through the city center, I turned left and crossed the Mayo Bridge into the Manchester district. I drove past J.J.’s Pub and then straight toward my apartment. As I parked, I fumbled for my phone and dialed. “Richards. Just saw David. I have hair and a pill sample. They need to be tested. Call me.”
I punched the security keypad, and the door clicked. I opened it; ran into my building and up the stairwell, keys in hand; and opened my front door. Closing it quickly behind me, I locked the door and slid the chain into place.
As I turned, I closed my eyes, willing my heartbeat to slow.I’m home. Safe.
When I opened my eyes and moved toward the kitchen, I saw two shot glasses sitting on the counter. Beside them was a bottle of tequila. I didn’t own shot glasses, and I sure as hell didn’t keep tequila in the house.
50
MARISA
Sunday, March 20, 2022
6:30 p.m.
The apartment was quiet. But it felt wrong, off, just as it had been when I’d found the door ajar. My hand in my purse, I fished for my cell, which had found its way into a corner. My fingers slid over the bag’s contents until it glossed over the phone’s smooth surface. “Is anyone here?”
I opened my security app and discovered the cameras had been pulled off-line. I turned to leave, willing to dial 9-1-1 and be seen as a fool for calling in a false alarm. My hand was on the chain when footsteps sounded in the back hallway. I whirled around.
In the shadows, I could see the outline of a man. It couldn’t be David. There was no way he could have beaten me here. Kurt didn’t have a key. Maintenance wasn’t scheduled. And then the man stepped closer into the light.
“Jack.” I was as confused as I was startled and also relieved. “What’s going on? If Jo-Jo called you, I’m fine.”
