Page 72 of In a Haze

She says, “Is there anything else I can clear up with you? Or can I go now?”

Joe shrugs. “Anna?”

“Just one more question. Why’d you keep those files in your office? What’s the point?”

“Your husband. He wanted evidence and leverage against the men he gave the girls to—just in case. And he obviously couldn’t keep them at home or in his office. And my real files are up for inspection at any time, so even though I kept dummy files on them while they were here, I destroyed them after they were picked up.” Lifting an eyebrow, she says, “Nowcan I go?”

Joe asks, “You good, Anna?”

“Yeah, I think so.” I hate, absolutely hate to the bottom of my gut, the idea that this vile woman is going to get off scot free—but Joe made a deal with her. And if we can tell the authorities everything, hopefully there will be enough, between my memory, the old cell phone, and the files that we can at least throw Don in prison. And now, knowing what I know about him, I have no doubt he’ll turn in all his rich friends to save his own ass.

Dr. Wilson nods. As she turns away, I expect her to go to her car. After all, she said she was going to leave. But then I realize something. “Joe, she’s going upstairs.”

“So?” he says, holding up Don’s new phone. “Let her.”

“What if she destroys the files? We can’t let her do that.”

“Oh, shit.”

Dr. Wilson must have heard me, because she starts sprinting toward the elevator.

26

For a hefty woman who walks like every step is torture, Dr. Wilson is hauling ass.

Joe’s head is in the van. “Where’s that fucking card?”

“What card?”

“The white one that let us in the garage. I’ll take the stairs and beat her to her office.”

“Ifthe card will work there.”

But he doesn’t hear me. He’s already moving across the garage like an Olympic runner. “Stay with Don. The cops are coming.”

How does he know that?

But I’m watching him run, and Dr. Wilson’s already out of sight. More vehicles are driving through the garage, arriving for work, and I tiptoe back some so I won’t be obvious.

It’s then that I feel his hand around my neck from behind. At first, I’m confused. Is it Joe? Did he somehow sneak around with the intent to kill me, because his place in all this is more than I realized?

Or is it Don? Was he able to escape from the drapery ties?

I try struggling, but his hand is tight, strong against the delicate bones of my neck. “You just couldn’t leave it alone, Anna, could you?”

Oh, it’s definitely Don. I’d know that voice anywhere. How the hell did I ever fall in love with this vile human being?

I can’t breathe. But I can move my hands—and, in this position, there’s only one thing I can think of to do. I reach behind in the space between our bodies and I grab at his junk. Taking his dick and balls in my hand, I squeeze and twist and it’s not long before he violently slams my head into the side of the van. My temple connects with metal frame between the passenger door and the sliding door at the back, because both doors are open. It hurts, but I’m not incapacitated from it.

Better yet, he’s let go of my neck.

Taking in a deep breath, I turn around. There’s blood all over him—on his hands, his forehead, his upper lip—and two of his fingers appear swollen. He lunges at me, but I manage to duck back. I already know I don’t have the strength to fight this man.

I need to use my brains.

As he grabs for my arm, his fingers glance the flesh, but I’m too fast. I jump back and then run around the van, making sure he’s chasing me. I need him away from the passenger side if I’m going to do what I hope.

Unfortunately, he’s fast.

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