No. The complete unacceptability of the idea cleared Jules’s mind. There was no way she was going to allow that.
A heavy fist landed on the wood of the door, pounding several times, startling Jules and sending her skittering backward. Her heels hit the bottom stair, knocking her off balance so she sat heavily on one of the steps. As her heart pounded in her ears, Jules gripped the banister spindle and tried to think.
Should she reveal herself, walk outside and accept her fate, allowing Sam and the kids time to escape? Or should she not answer, delaying the inevitable? If she was arrested, Jules doubted the kids would run. Well, they probably would run—right toward her, trying to defend their sister.
She’d keep quiet then, ignoring the knocking and the doorbell. It might not give them much time, but maybe Dennis could find them somewhere else, somewhere that was actually safe, somewhere the cops weren’t at her door within minutes of her and the kids’ arrival.
The thumps on the door stopped, and Jules held her breath. Was the cop leaving, or was he just going to get reinforcements? The shadow behind the glass shrank and then disappeared altogether. Jules stayed frozen, waiting for the next step—more footsteps on the porch, a voice from a megaphone telling her to surrender, the door splintering after a hit from a battering ram.
Instead, there was silence. For several long, long moments, all Jules could hear was the rasp of her anxious breaths. Then, there was the rough roar of a diesel engine turning over.
Confusion knotted her eyebrows. That didn’t sound like a squad car, or even a squad SUV. That was a truck—a big one. Pushing off the stairs, she took quiet, cautious steps to the door. The figure was gone, but a large object remained on the porch. Squinting, she tried to make it out, but the peephole didn’t give her a good-enough view.
Biting the inside of her lip, she slowly, soundlessly turned the lock and opened the door a crack. Jules peered out just in time to see the rear of a florist’s box truck trundling down the driveway. Her gaze dropped to the object on the porch. It was a potted plant, wrapped in a bow with a card attached.
Her laugh rang out, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to mute the sound. Flowers. What she’d thought was a cop had actually been a delivery driver, complete with dark-blue uniform. Her heart drummed against her ribs with residual adrenaline, and she couldn’t stop laughing into her muffling hand.
The delivery truck rounded a bend and disappeared from view. Still feeling spooked, Jules opened the door just wide enough to grab the pot. Once she’d secured the front door behind her, she brought the plant into the kitchen and opened the attached card with shaking fingers. Irrationally, she half-expected the flowers to be from Courtney, a sort of I’ve-got-you kind of mind game. When she saw what was written in the card, Jules’s lungs finally relaxed enough for her to take a breath.
Welcome to your new life. —Dennis
Chapter 9
Present Day
Theo stared at the package of steaks in his hand. He didn’t know why he was even considering them. It wasn’t like he’d suddenly have the initiative to dust off the grill, fill his propane tank, and actually cook anything. He’d grab something from the diner like he always did, or he’d just wait until tomorrow at breakfast. It wasn’t like he felt hungry, anyway.
Impatiently, he returned the package to the cooler. The only reason he was at the grocery store was because he wanted to delay going home. The quietness made it harder to keep from dwelling on everything. His cart had exactly one item in it—a chew toy for Viggy that Theo had picked up from the sale display by the door. He quickly looked away. It’d be a waste of money. Viggy wouldn’t touch it.
The aisle suddenly seemed too small, making it hard for Theo to breathe. Needing to get out of the store, he turned his cart abruptly before jerking to a sudden stop. He’d almost crashed into another cart—a cart steered by a certain startled-looking, squirrelly waitress.
They studied each other, his claustrophobia fading as curiosity took its place. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but she intrigued him in a way nothing had for a long time. All the questions she’d evaded or answered with lies filled his head, and he was suddenly glad he’d stopped at the grocery store. A conversation with Jules, as frustrating and unilluminating as it promised to be, was so much better than the gut-wrenching emptiness of his house.
“Hello.” She broke the silence first as her gaze darted around, searching for the closest escape route.
“Jules.”
Her nervous gaze bounced off him and landed on the lone dog chew in his cart. “Not very hungry, I’m guessing?”