Page 82 of The Teacher
But even if she cracks—and it’s hardly unlikely—there’s no proof of my connection to Adeline Severson. Eve was the only one who knew the truth, and she didn’t tell anyone. The photographs have been deleted. And Addie has proven herself to be unbalanced. She already stalked a teacher, and she got him fired, despite a distinctlack of evidence of wrongdoing on his part. And the girl has no friends whatsoever.
I find myself whistling as I stride in the direction of the bathroom. I have it to myself this morning—Eve isn’t here to drain all the hot water, leaving me with a shower that is tepid at best. I should have ended the marriage ages ago, although I did have reasons to keep it going. Eve knows a little bit more about me than I’m comfortable with.
After I relieve my bladder, I rip open the shower curtains to get the water going. But just before my hand descends on the faucet, I freeze.
What the hell?
There’s a pair of Eve’s shoes in the shower.
I stare down at the pair of red pumps sitting in the bottom of the bathtub. I have discovered Eve’s shoes in every nook and cranny of the house, but the bathtub is novel to me. I cannot conceive of why she would have left them there.
Clearly, my wife was even more unbalanced than she let on. All the more reason it’s good to finally be rid of her.
The temptation to let the shoes drown nearly overwhelms me, but at the last moment, I rescue them from the tub. Based on our credit card bills, Eve’s shoes are worth a small fortune. I can figure out a way to sell them on eBay. I may even turn a profit.
As I am pulling the shoes out of the tub, I hear a sound from behind me. I turn around to look at the closed bathroom door. It almost sounds like somebody is right outside the door. But that’s impossible. Eve isn’t here, and there’s nobody else who has a key.
I am certain I heard something though. It almost sounded like a tapping sound.
I adjust my boxer shorts as I step toward the bathroom door. Gingerly, I pull it open and gaze at the master bedroom. Not surprisingly, it is empty. For a moment, I am reminded of my favorite poem, “The Raven,” by the famous Edgar Allan Poe.
Darkness there and nothing more.
I let out a breath and march over to the closet, where I throw Eve’s shoes inside. Last night was stressful, and I slept poorly, so it should be no surprise that my ears are playing tricks on me.
I jump into the shower and let the scalding hot water rain down on my bare skin. I have a busy day ahead of me. After breakfast, I have a stack of papers I need to grade. After that, I may go out for a bite of lunch. Perhaps I’ll make a stop at the supermarket.
And then after that, I’ll be calling the police.
Chapter Sixty-Four
ADDIE
I don’t sleep.Not even one minute.
Instead, I lie awake in bed, tossing and turning. Every time I close my eyes, I see Mrs. Bennett’s dead body lying at the bottom of that grave in the old pumpkin patch, those angry red marks around her neck.
My mother arrives home in the early hours of the morning. She slips quietly into my room to check on me, and I keep my eyes squeezed shut, pretending to be asleep. I can’t deal with her right now. She’s going to take one look at my face and know something is wrong.
I lie in bed until it’s nearly lunchtime, and then I’ve got to get up. I’ve got to face the day and possibly force myself to eat something.
I throw my legs over the side of the bed and reach for my phone. There’s a message waiting for me from Hudson:
Are youokay?
No, I am not even a little bit okay. But I don’t feel like dealing with his questions this morning. I owe him a lot, but I can’t face him. Especially since on Monday morning, when he discovers Mrs. Bennett went missing, he’s going to put two and two together.
Nathaniel’s plan seemed like a reasonable idea last night, but now, in the light of day, I can’t imagine how we are ever going to get away with this.
I open my Snapflash app, hoping to see a message from him. After everything that happened last night, he owes me some sort of explanation, right? But there’s nothing there.
I tap out a message of my own:
What happened last night? Please tell me what’s going on.
I press Send, but instead of the message going through, an error flashes on the screen:
The account you are sending to no longer exists.
