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Back One White Lie Save as PDF
Chapters (59)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. DEDICATION
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. FIFTY
  54. FIFTY-ONE
  55. FIFTY-TWO
  56. FIFTY-THREE
  57. FIFTY-FOUR
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Vera listened, eyes welling as I detailed everything. When I was done, she made me tea and brought me crackers, but I was too weak, too spent, to get anything down. She begged me to call the police, but I told her I wouldn’t, and when the tea had gone cold, she took it back to the kitchen, then returned to the bedroom. She crawled into bed with me and snuggled up behind me, holding me like Davis used to, and in the safety of her arms, I let my eyes go heavy once again, knowing this nightmare was far from over, knowing any respite would be brief.

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THIRTY-FIVE

Vera was gone when I woke the next morning. I felt hazy, hungover, even though I hadn’t had so much as a drop to drink. The bed was empty, not even Dusty beside me, and layers of covers had been laid, heavy, over me. She’d tucked me in like she would a child.

I pushed the covers back and reached for my phone. The screen was black – dead – and shattered nearly beyond recognition. It was cold in my room, icily so, and I needed to know the time – the only clock in the cottage was in the kitchen. Forcing myself out of bed, I padded down the hall, treading carefully, my head swiveling side to side, in case Davis had decided to come back.

There was no one in the main room – only Dusty, who hopped off the sofa and followed me.

The sight in the kitchen was awful. The window above Dusty’s doggie door was broken, a spiderweb of cracks radiating outward.

‘Back, Dusty,’ I said as glass shards glimmered, scattered across the floor, catching the light like snowfall.

Had Davis returned, smashed my window, intent on scaring me again?

Had his words last night only been lies? Had he never intended to leave me alone at all?

Dusty retreated and I stepped forward. It was noon – I’d slept for ages – and on the counter by the stove sat a note from Vera.

I didn’t want to clean this up in case you decided to tell the police (which I really think you should). I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’ll check in later. V

Pushing the note aside, I stepped forward and ran my finger along an edge of the crack in the glass. Shit. I sucked on the blood from my finger and headed to the bathroom, wrapping it in a Band-Aid.

In the mirror, I saw fingerprints of blood on my neck. It was where Davis had grabbed me, stamping my skin, irritated and soon to bruise. In the bedroom, I found the hammer. There were bloody fingerprints on its handle, too. No question, Davis’s hand had been bleeding when he attacked me. It had happened so quickly, I hadn’t even noticed it.