Page 19 of What the Wife Knew

Welcoming soft sheets and dragging exhaustion couldn’t wipe out the memory of the horrors that waited in the dark. Being a kid with a mother who went out at night and didn’t believe in wasting money she needed for groceries on babysitters made me a target. No amount of crying or begging had stopped her. She’d shake her head, then call out a reminder to lock the door behind her as she left whatever rundown apartment we were living in at the time.

I learned early to sleep with a weapon. Back then, a knife. When I was ten I had to use it. Doing so trapped me in the messI lived in now, ceding control over my choices and paying a lifetime of penance for the sin of slicing first.

With my bat missing, I improvised and grabbed a screwdriver and a hammer and tucked them under the pillow next to mine. A knife made more sense, but flashes of being drenched in blood stopped me. A blade was always my weapon of last resort.

The fluffed-up pillows piled behind me meant sleeping sitting up. The position sucked but it was better than dying lying down. I held my flashlight and strained to hear the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, but the big house stayed silent.

A company representative walked me through resetting the house alarm and deleting Wyatt’s code. I kept Elias as my emergency contact. We had a mutually beneficial relationship. I liked how fast he could get to the house and he would want me alive long enough to pay his bill.

After quiet minutes scanning the room and glancing at the night outside, I felt some of my jumpiness fade. Enough remained to keep me careful.

“Go to sleep.” I reached over and turned off the light closest to the bed, leaving the bathroom one on.

A flash. Something flickered in the corner of my eye. A tick of a warning set off a siren in my head. My heart felt like it exploded as I grabbed for the hammer and pushed my back deeper into the pillows.

Before I could turn on the flashlight, I saw it. The scrawl of what looked like glowing fluorescent-yellow paint on the wall across from me. Scribbled over the bedroom wallpaper and the mirror. Invisible in the light but clear now.

YOU WILL PAY

The sound of my labored breathing echoed through the quiet room. My palm ached from the tight grip on the hammer. I read the words then reread them.

The truth settled in my brain. The break-in hadn’t been about stealing anything or looking for something. It had been a warning. A show that they—whoever “they” were—could get to me at any time.

Go ahead and try.

I’d killed before. I could kill again.

Chapter Fourteen

Her

Present Day

After a night without sleep thebongof the doorbell was not a welcome wake-up call. The gate should be locked, so anyone getting to the front door would need special access of some type. Probably Wyatt. Possibly Elias. Both options reminded me I needed to change the gate code as well as every other security code in the house.

With a groan I lifted my head off the kitchen island. Not the best place to take a nap but the location had the benefit of being near the coffeemaker. This was going to be a three-cup day.

I shuffled to the front door as I brought up the security app on my cellphone. The face peering into the outside camera made me stop.

Kathryn. At my house.

Pretending not to be home was an option. That came in second to installing a trapdoor right by the entrance to eliminate unwanted guests. One push of the button and—whoosh—they’d be gone.

Back in reality, I opened the door. Kathryn stood there, dressed like she was on her way to one of her fancy literary luncheons. She pulled off a cream-colored pantsuit and matchingblouse. The kind of outfit most people would have stained with a pen mark ten seconds after they put it on.

Not a mark on it and, as usual, not a blond hair out of place. She wore it in a bob just above her shoulders. Straight, smooth, and expensive. The style matched her jewelry. A thin gold chain with diamonds and a bracelet with more diamonds. The woman reeked of wealth.

She also wasn’t invited. “How did you get past the gate?”

Kathryn tucked her clutch bag under her right arm and sighed, as if she was the one barely tolerating this visit. “I know my way around the property. This used to be my house.”

“We both know you never lived here. If I remember correctly it was being painted pre-move-in when Richmond asked for a divorce.” I kept my hand on the door, blocking any chance of her wandering inside.

“Thanks to you.” Kathryn’s mouth twisted in a frown as she looked me up and down. The expression of distaste ruined her otherwise impressively smooth skin and pretty face. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Lounge pants, a frayed T-shirt, and pink bunny slippers. My favorite outfit. “My Tuesday ballgown is in the washing machine.”

Kathryn made a huffing sound and waved her hand in the air. “Let me in.”

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