Page 80 of Gone Tonight
Her name explodes in my mind. I drop the phone into my purse and begin to run.
I need to lay eyes on her, now. I roughly elbow past a pair of men who are taking up most of the sidewalk and one of them shouts an expletive after me.
I’m less than ten yards away from our building now. Surely nothing has happened in the few minutes I’ve been gone. I don’t care how sick Catherine is—she needs to get up and pack fast while I grab my journal and her fake ID and get us out.
I fly through the lobby and take the stairs two at a time, almost hoping I run into James. It’s far better that he finds me alone than when I’m with Catherine.
The stairs are empty.
It takes me two tries to fit my key into the lock because my hand is shaking so violently. I burst through the door, yelling her name. I run down the hallway, into her room.
Her bed is empty, the covers thrown to one side.
I race to the bathroom, then check my room, and finally run back to the living room, screaming her name again.
She’s gone.
I look out the window, toward the parking lot. That’s when I see her, hurrying across the pavement toward the Bonneville.
She’s alone. No one is chasing her. Catherine is wearing the same T-shirt dress she has had on since yesterday, and her backpack is slung over her shoulder.
Why is she moving so quickly, especially when she’s sick?
I bang on the glass.
“Catherine!” I shout, even though I know she can’t hear me.
She gets into the Bonneville and pulls out far too fast, her wheels screeching.
I stand there, stunned. She acted like it was painful to even move last night. She pretended to be too ill to eat. She must have leapt out of bed the moment I left the house and hurried down the stairs right after I did.
I stand there, breathing hard, in complete disbelief.
A text chimes on my phone and I instinctively look down.Thingshave been intense lately Mom. I guess I need a little break. I’m going away for a few days but I’ll check in later. Please don’t text or call me while I’m gone.
“No!” I shout.
I check her location on my iPhone, frantic to see where she is heading. I wait for the information to pop up as I begin to formulate a plan. I can take a cab and intercept her. Once I have my daughter in my sight again, I will not lose track of her.
The map is taking forever to load. I jab at it to refresh it.
But it refuses to reveal anything.
Catherine is hiding her location from me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENCATHERINE
When my mother locks my bedroom window, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. When she settles down next to me to sleep, I feel like an animal caught in a trap.
I lie awake for most of the night, my body rigid, while she tosses and turns beside me. It’s almost like she knows I’m planning to escape, and she’s imprisoning me in my bedroom. My mother is a very light sleeper. If I so much as swing my legs over to the floor and stand up, the creaking of the bedspring will probably wake her up.
I can barely move.
My legal pad must still be on the living room floor where I dropped it. My mother has surely seen it by now. I have no idea whether she looked through it, but if she did, she’ll know I’ve been investigating her.
This sounds crazy, but I’m scared of her.
I have no idea what she has done. Or what she is capable of doing.
