Page 71 of I Know She Was There

“Don’t gaslight me, Tim.” I shook my head violently. “I was institutionalized for two years. I’m never getting that time back.” I threw my hands out in front of me. “And I’d gladly have given up my entire life if I could just have Emmy...” My voice broke. I covered my face with my hands, angry with myself. I’d vowed to rein in my emotions.

It was quiet in the apartment. As silent and empty as the atmosphere on the moon.

“Look, let’s start over,” came my husband’s voice, contrite, tentative. “Maybe we could make it work this time.”

I lowered my hands and looked at him.

“We could begin again. I’m sure of it.”

I thought of all the times I’d yearned to hear those words from him. I studied his features, aware that his expression was more desperate than amorous. Did he honestly think there was a way to fix this?

“We’ve learned from our mistakes.” His voice took on a pleading quality. “We’ll know exactly what to avoid next time around.”

He spoke as though we’d ruined a recipe or painted a wall in our house an unattractive color. How was I considered the crazy one in this relationship?

“Let’s just give it a try.”

There was more at stake here. Tim didn’t long for a reunion. He was terrified I’d tell anyone who’d listen about what had really happened to Emmy. And I’d start asking questions about my mother’s estate. The truth hit with the force of a sledgehammer. Fast on the heels of our shared tragedy, he saw an opportunity to be rid of me and he took it, feeding his carefully constructed narrative to anyone—and everyone—who would listen. Troubled woman with a tragic background—majorly depressed. Perhaps even suicidal. As time went on, he’d likely added to the story, concocting believable tidbits that would ensure my continued institutionalization.

And he’d never expected me to get out of the psych ward.

The desperation coming off him slammed into me just as forcefully. He had no choice but to keep me close, at least for a little while. I again recalled our early days, when he’d dramatically professed I was his oxygen, and it was true. Only my starry-eyed interpretation had been faulty. Oxygen, after all, is the one thing that feeds a fire. The more you have, the higher the flames leap. And Tim needed me to help him torch my life. He’d counted on me creating an inferno so intense and lasting, I’d not survive.

Infusing my voice with an encouraging note instead of what I really wanted to do—spit in his face—I said, “I’ve waited for months to hear you say that.”

His smile looked hopeful. “The wait is over.”

I forced an answering smile. I’d underestimated his arrogance. His certainty that I needed him so badly I’d be willing to accept him no matter what had happened between us. That I’d be able to overlook the fact that he’d allowed our baby to drownand blamed it on me. I had a weird impression of acting—as though we were in a play or, more appropriately, a soap opera. Tim was doing nothing more than spewing lines he was paid to recite. I suspected the payment was coming from my inheritance.

I stared at his smug expression, wanting to slap the self-satisfied grin off his face. My husband thought he’d won me over, again. He had no idea who I really was, and he never had. But that apparently hadn’t mattered to him. He’d discovered my mother’s financial status and realized I was vulnerable. The timing bore out this theory. After my mother died, he’d started pulling away.

Now that I viewed him without emotion, the picture was so clear. It hadn’t occurred to me until this very moment I was bound to a narcissist. I thought about his lack of close friends, his physical and emotional distance from family members. Most of all, his strict judgment of others while allowing himself huge leeway for his own mistakes. Even foisting the deadly neglect of his child onto me. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? Perhaps narcissism had seemed normal to my lithium-addled brain.

“What about your girlfriend?” I asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

He brushed his hand in the air. “That’s not working out.”

“Why is that?”

He looked away. “She’s not really around anymore.”

Perhaps she’d left him. Smart woman. But no, there had to be more to it than that. I looked back at the beautiful living room. “She left all this expensive furniture behind?”

Tim’s eyes flickered with impatience for just a second, but he masked it quickly with an uneven grin, knowing the charming effect it always had on me. Again, I wanted to kick him in the groin. And kick myself while I was at it.

“I’m sure she’ll pick it all up at some point, or I’ll give her a few bucks for the stuff.”

That wasliterallywhat he’d do. Pay her a pittance for the costly furnishings.

“Yes, well, I’m glad we talked.” I slapped an earnest expression across my features as I turned and walked to his door, swinging it wide. Stepping out, I said, “Oh, by the way, I was bluffing about the police.” I looked over my shoulder and smirked. “But you knew that, didn’t you? You could always read me like a book.”

His superior smile said more than words would ever convey. “I’ll be in touch, Caroline.”

I couldn’t tell if that was a promise or a threat.

CHAPTER36

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 22

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