Page 4 of Do Not Disturb
I can’t do anything about the color—at least not yet—but it doesn’t have to be so long. I take a pair of scissors from the medicine cabinet. Before I can overthink it, I slice my hair off at chin length. I don’t spend too much time making sure it’s even, and also, my hands won’t stop shaking, which doesn’t help matters. The entire process takes about sixty seconds. I flush all the hair down the toilet so nobody will know I did it.
There. I look a lot different with my hair so short. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.
I pack a bag as rapidly as I can—I toss in some shirts, bras, underwear, and pants. I take all my jewelry, figuring I could hock it if I need to. I also open the shoebox in the back of the closet where I’ve been stashing money whenever I can, as well as my passport. Somehow I knew I would need it for a day like today. The money isn’t much, but it will get me through a few weeks, at least. I can also hit an ATM or two, but I have to be careful about that. Every time I withdraw money, I’ll be leaving a trail the police will follow.
I get a sick feeling just thinking about it. This is my life from now on. Hiding from the police. I’ll never see my home again. I’ll never see my sister again.
But it’s that or life in prison.
After my bag is packed, I hesitate at the top of the stairwell, my stomach fluttering. I was up there too long. Too many wasted minutes. What if Scott came back to check on me? What if he didn’t really believe I was watching the movieScream?
What if the first floor of my house is crawling with cops, waiting to drag me away in cuffs?
My sensible sneakers thump on the steps. I take them slowly, watching to see if anyone is waiting for me. My heart is pounding. I was stupid to spend so much time up there. I should have grabbed whatever I could and run.
But the living room is silent. Just like I left it.
Thank God.
I won’t make the same mistake again. I don’t bother to look around the living room and make sure I’ve gotten every last thing. Everything I own is expendable. Anyway, what would I take? A picture of me and Derek from one of our trips? No way. I want to forget his perfect, handsome, smug face.
So instead, I go straight to the garage. My blue Toyota Corolla is sitting there, waiting for me. We have a two-car garage and Derek’s Porsche is right next to my Corolla. He never understood why I didn’t want a fancy, expensive car like he had. Why would I keep the same crappy Corolla I drove back when I was single?
He didn’t get it. This car ismine. I paid for it myself, unlike our ridiculously extravagant house and furnishings. It’s the last thing I own that still feels like me.
I climb in my Corolla and start up the engine.
And I run.
Chapter Three
Ihave no idea where I’m going.
It’s not like I did this with any kind of well-thought-out plan. I didn’t wake up this morning and say to myself,Hey, I’m going to kill my husband today!If I had done something like that, I would have filled up my gas tank beforehand, for starters.
I also would have picked a better day to do it, weather-wise. December has been unseasonably warm this year, but, of course, today would be the day we get blessed with freezing rain. That lovely combination of rain and snow is slowly coating the roads and obscuring my windshield as I travel as fast as I dare. And all the while, the sun is dropping in the sky, making it harder and harder to see.
It’s like Derek is already haunting me from beyond the grave.
But I’ve got to keep going. I have to put as many miles as I can between me and the house where I murdered my husband. Because I don’t have long.
I'm going to head north. I need to get out of the country. And I’m far closer to Canada than I am to Mexico. Hopefully at the border, they won’t look too carefully at my passport and just wave me through.
I’ve been driving less than twenty minutes when my phone rings. The display in my car pops up the name Claudia Delaney.
It’s my sister.
I hesitate, not sure if I should take the call. It’s not that I don’t have some friends and coworkers that I like, but the only person I’ll really miss will be Claudia. She’s four years older than me, and she’s always looked out for me, especially after our parents died when I was only fourteen. When she finds out what happened, she’s going to be worried sick.
I’ve got to talk to her one last time. I need to let her know I’m all right.
I press the button to take the call. “Hi, Claudia!” I say in a voice that is so uncharacteristically chipper, I’m convinced she’ll know instantly something is wrong.
“Hey, Quinn,” she says. “Where are you? Are you free?”
I almost laugh at how ridiculous the question is. “Not at the moment. I’m… still at work.”
“What time do you get off? Do you want to grab dinner?”
