Page 8 of Do Not Disturb
Damn, I wish I hadn’t thrown my phone in his pickup truck. I had been hoping he was some guy from way out of town, in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go. I wanted that phone to take the police on a wild goose chase. But if he’s headed back where I come from, it will take them all of five minutes to figure out my phone is in the back of his truck.
Worse, he’ll be able to give the police an updated description of me. He can tell them I cut my hair. All the more reason I have to get hair dye as soon as possible. And maybe I need to hack my hair off a bit shorter. I always wanted a pixie cut. I almost laugh as I imagine the look on Derek’s face if I had come home with a pixie cut. But it wouldn’t have been funny back then. Not even a little.
As I pull onto the road, Billy Walsh is still staring after me. No, he’s definitely not going to forget me. I made a huge mistake pulling over here.
Maybe I should head back. It’s not too late. I could go home and confess to the police what I did. It’s better if I confess than if they discover it themselves. Better than trying to escape during what is possibly turning into a blizzard.
But I don’t turn around.
At about five-thirty,the sun dropped precipitously in the sky. By two hours into my drive, it’s pitch black. I can just hardly see the road in front of me with my windshield wipers going full blast. I’m the only car on the road, so I put on my brights. If I get in a car wreck, I’m finished.
I don’t know what to do. I had hoped to keep driving for at least seven or eight hours without stopping, but the Corolla won’t make it much further. I wish I had bought a bigger car. But who knew I’d be fleeing a murder scene?
I suspect the right thing to do is to pull off the highway. Find a quiet place and sleep in the car. I’ve got my cheese puffs and my Oreos, which isn’t exactly nourishing, but it will get me through the night. But where can I pull over around here?
If Claudia were here, she would tell me what to do.
I get a deep ache in my chest as I think about my big sister. I can’t believe I’m never going to see her again. She’s the only reason I’m even considering going back. She always knows what to do. After our parents died, she put her arm around me at the funeral and said,Don’t worry, Quinn. I’ll take care of you.
And she did. She left college and won guardianship of me. We had little family, and if she hadn’t stepped in, I would have had to go live with some distant relatives I had never met. Or lived in foster care. I owe Claudia everything.
We used to talk about Derek a lot. I would tell her carefully edited versions of some things he said to me. I was careful not to tell her about the bruises he left behind when he grabbed my arm or the times he pulled my hair. Even with the watered down version, she was furious. She told me I should leave him. But she didn’t get it. Derek wasn’t just rich—he waspowerful. If I left him, he would make sure I never worked in banking ever again. He told me I would spend the rest of my life penniless and miserable. Although some days, that felt better than the alternative.
And, of course, after one of our huge fights, Derek would always fall over himself to apologize. There would be flowers, expensive jewelry, maybe a dinner out at a nice restaurant. He would be nice for weeks until I forgot the fight and remembered the man I had fallen in love with. So I stayed.
When I was younger, before I met Derek, I would hear stories about women stuck in abusive relationships. I never understood why any of them stayed. I thought they were foolish or weak. It never made sense to me until it became my life.
Over the sound of the engine and the wind and rain outside, I hear another noise. It takes me a second to make it out. But when I do, my stomach sinks.
It’s a siren.
Chapter Six
There’s a police car in my rearview mirror, flashing its lights. There are no other cars on the road. The police officer wants me to stop.
Oh no. Have they discovered the body already?
Maybe Scotty Dwyer didn’t believe my story as much as I thought he did. Maybe after another hour, he went back to our house. He would have noticed the windows were dark inside. And then what? Would he have busted down the door to see what was inside? That seems extreme.
But he could have discovered the key we always keep under the potted plant by the back door. Scott is smart enough to check the obvious places.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel until my knuckles go white. I wish Scott had insisted on looking around. He would have discovered the body, and I could have told him everything that happened. Scott was so kind to me when we were younger—he would have believed me. He would have known I’m not a murderer.
But it’s worse now. I fled the scene of the crime. The more distance I put between myself and Derek’s body, the more guilty I look.
There’s no chance of a high-speed chase right now. I pull over to the side of the road as carefully as I can. The police car pulls over behind me. I sit there for a moment, my heart pounding so hard, I might have a heart attack. I almost hope I do. It would be easier than dealing with what’s going to happen next.
The police officer takes his sweet time getting out of the vehicle. I had been hoping it might be Scott, but it isn’t. It’s somebody I don’t know. He’s a large man with a shaved head, dressed in a dark uniform, and he’s got an umbrella in his right hand as he makes his way to my car. Somehow, the umbrella makes him seem a little less scary.
Until he raps hard on the window of my car.
I roll down the window. Immediately, bits of icy rain smack me in the face. I do my best to smile, even though I am about to pee in my pants. In the shadows, I can just barely make out the lines in the officer’s face.
“Hi, Officer,” I say. “Um, everything okay?”
“I wouldn’t have stopped you if it were, would I? Let’s see your license, Miss.”
My hands are shaking as I reach for my purse. It takes me two tries to get my wallet open and slide out my driver’s license. I almost drop it as I try to hand it to him.
