Chương 3
“Then call state police too.”
Mercer stopped beneath the awning.
“I should come.”
I looked at him.
“If she sees you, will she be afraid?”
He did not answer quickly enough.
“Stay.”
I got behind the wheel.
My hands shook so badly I missed the ignition button the first time.
Grace’s ring was still in my palm.
I set it carefully in the cup holder.
The lake house was twenty-seven minutes away in good weather.
That night, with rain flooding the low roads, it took thirty-four.
I called Grace’s phone six times on the way even though it was lying on the passenger seat beside me.
Some irrational part of me kept expecting her to answer anyway.
At the final turn, headlights swept across the dark windows of the lake house.
No cars were parked outside.
The front door was unlocked.
“Grace!”
My voice traveled through the empty first floor.
A lamp burned in the living room beside a half-finished cup of tea.
On the kitchen counter sat a plate with two pieces of toast, one bitten and abandoned.
Then I heard a sound upstairs.
Not breathing this time.
A woman crying.
I ran toward the staircase.
“Grace!”
The crying stopped.
A floorboard creaked above me.
Then my wife’s voice came through the darkness, thin and terrified.
“Don’t come any closer.”
Grace’s voice came from the landing above me, weak enough that I almost mistook it for someone else’s.
“I said don’t come any closer.”
I stopped with one foot on the first stair.
The house smelled faintly of damp wood, old lake water, and something sharper underneath, antiseptic or rubbing alcohol.
“Grace, it’s me.”
“I know who you are.”
The words hurt more than if she had screamed.
A pale hand appeared around the railing upstairs.
Then she stepped into view.
She wore one of my old gray sweatshirts over a long sleep dress, and the sweatshirt no longer came close to closing over her stomach.
Her hair hung loose and tangled around her face.
There were purple shadows beneath her eyes.
She held a kitchen knife with both hands.
The blade shook.
I lifted my hands and stepped backward off the stair.
“Okay.”
“Put your phone down.”
I did.
“Kick it away.”
I nudged it across the hardwood.
She watched until it slid beneath a side table.
“Your other phone.”
My throat tightened.
She knew about the duplicate.
I reached slowly inside my coat and pulled out the device my mother had used to impersonate me.
Grace’s expression changed when she saw it.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came.
“I found this in the cellar.”
“Put it down.”
I placed it beside my shoe.
Her gaze stayed fixed on the screen as though it might start speaking by itself.
I could see the effort it took her to stand.
One hand left the knife and pressed against the underside of her stomach.
She closed her eyes.
“Grace?”
“Stay there.”
Her breathing changed.
She inhaled slowly through her nose, held it, then let it out through clenched teeth.
I had watched videos about contractions months ago because Grace had mocked me for buying a book called The First Forty Days and then never reading past page eleven.
I had imagined sitting beside her in a hospital room while she crushed my fingers and told me everything I was doing wrong.
I had not imagined watching her labor from fifteen feet away while she held a knife to keep me from coming near her.
“How long have they been like this?”
She opened her eyes.
“Don’t pretend.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“You knew.”
“No.”
A strange, breathless laugh escaped her.
It was not amusement.
“Your mother said you knew exactly where I was.”
“She lied.”
“She showed me messages.”
“I saw them.”
“She showed me photographs.”
“I saw those too.”
“She played me a voice message.”
That stopped me.
“What voice message?”
Grace stared at me.
“You said you couldn’t do this anymore.”
“I never sent that.”
“You said the baby wasn’t enough reason to stay married.”
“I never said that.”
Her fingers tightened around the knife.
“Stop.”
“I’m not asking you to believe me right now.”
“Good.”
“I’m asking you to let me call an ambulance.”
“No.”
“Grace—”
“No hospitals connected to your family.”
“Then we’ll call one outside the county.”
“No.”
Her answer came too quickly.
I forced myself not to move.
“What happened?”
She looked toward a dark doorway behind her.
That was when I noticed the overnight bag on the floor.
It was open, clothes spilling out.
Beside it lay a pair of shoes and a set of car keys.
Grace had been trying to leave.
“You were going somewhere.”
“I was going anywhere.”
“Whose keys?”
“Mine.”
“Your car is at the estate.”
“I found an old SUV in the garage.”
My stomach tightened.
“Does it run?”
“I don’t know.”
“Grace, listen to me.”
“No.”
Her face hardened.
“You listen.”
I did.
She swallowed once.
“I spent twelve days in that room.”
The number struck like a physical blow.
“At first your mother told me I was there because I was having panic attacks and needed to rest.”
Grace’s eyes never left mine.
“She said you agreed.”
I gripped the edge of the table beside me because my knees felt unreliable.
“She said the locks were for my safety.”
The knife lowered slightly.
“Then I asked to call my sister.”
She stared past me for a second.
“Your mother told me my sister knew.”
“She didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
The words were flat.
“On the fourth day I stopped eating.”
My jaw tightened.
“She brought Dr. Mercer.”
“Did he examine you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly, then Grace’s face twisted.
“Not like that.”
I nodded once.
She shifted her weight and winced.
“He kept saying I was under too much stress, that the baby’s heart rate was fine, that we should avoid escalation.”
May you like
Her voice grew sharper.
“Do you know what that means when you’re locked in a room?”
