Safe Haven(92)
He reached the gravel road and turned. The road, dusty and potholed, seemed to lead nowhere until he finally spotted a pair of small cottages a half mile down. He felt his heart speed up. Erin lived in one of them. He moved to the side of the road, hugging the trees, staying out of sight as much as possible. He was hoping for shade but the sun was high and the heat remained constant. His shirt was drenched, sweat dripped down his cheeks and plastered his hair to his skull. His head pounded and he stopped for a drink, straight from the bottle.
From a distance, neither of the cottages appeared occupied. Hell, neither one looked habitable. It was nothing like their house in Dorchester, with its shutters and corbels and red front door. On the cottage closest to him, the paint was peeling and the planks were rotting in the corners. Moving forward, he watched the windows, looking for signs of movement. There was nothing.
He didn’t know which cottage was hers. He stopped to study them closely. Both were bad, but one looked practically abandoned. He moved toward the better one, angling away from the window.
It had taken thirty minutes to get here from the store. Once he surprised Erin, he knew she’d try to get away. She wouldn’t want to go with him. She would try to get away, might even try to fight, and he would tie her up and tape her mouth shut and then go get the car. Once he returned with the car, he would put her in the trunk until they were far away from this town.
He reached the side of the house and flattened himself against it, staying away from the window. He listened for movement, the sound of opening doors or water running or dishes clattering, but heard nothing.
His head still hurt and he was thirsty. The heat poured down and his shirt was wet. He was breathing too fast but he was so close to Erin now and he thought again how she’d left him and hadn’t cared that he’d cried. She’d laughed behind his back. Her and the man, whoever he was. He knew there had to be a man. She couldn’t make it on her own.
He peeked around the back of the house and saw nothing. He crept forward, watching. Ahead, there was a small window and he took a chance and looked in. No lights on, but it was clean and tidy, with a dish towel draped over the kitchen sink. Just like Erin used to do. He silently approached the door and turned the knob. Unlocked.
Holding his breath, he opened the door and stepped inside, pausing again to listen and hearing nothing. He crossed the kitchen and entered the living room—then the bedroom and bathroom. He cursed aloud, knowing she wasn’t home.
Assuming he was in the right home, of course. In the bedroom, he spied the chest of drawers and pulled the top one open. Finding a stack of her panties, he sifted through them, rubbed them between his thumb and forefinger, but it had been so long, he wasn’t sure he could remember if they were the ones she had back home. The other clothes he didn’t recognize, but they were her size.
He recognized the shampoo and conditioner, he recognized the brand of toothpaste. In the kitchen, he rifled through the drawers, opening them one by one until he found a utility bill. It was listed in the name of Katie Feldman, and now he leaned against the cupboard, staring at the name and feeling a sense of completion.
The only problem was that she wasn’t here, and he didn’t know when she would return. He knew he couldn’t leave his car at the store indefinitely, but all at once, he was just so tired. He wanted to sleep, needed to sleep. He’d driven all night and his head was pounding. Instinctively, he wandered back to her bedroom. She’d made the bed, and when he peeled back the cover, he could smell her scent in the sheets. He crawled into the bed, breathing deeply, breathing her in. He felt the tears flood his eyes as he realized how much he missed her and loved her and that they could have been happy if she hadn’t been so selfish.
He couldn’t stay awake and he told himself that he would sleep for just a little while. Not long. Just enough so that when he came back later in the evening, his mind would be sharp and he wouldn’t make mistakes and he and Erin could be husband and wife once more.
35
Alex, Katie, and the kids rode their bikes to the carnival because parking downtown was almost impossible. Trying to get home, once cars started pulling out, would be even worse.
Booths displaying arts and crafts lined either side of the street, and the air was thick with the scent of hot dogs and burgers, popcorn and cotton candy. On the main stage, a local band was playing “Little Deuce Coupe” by the Beach Boys. There were sack races and a banner promising a watermelon-eating contest later in the afternoon. Games of chance, too—throwing darts at balloons, tossing rings around bottles, sinking three shots with a basketball to win a stuffed animal. The Ferris wheel at the far end of the park towered above all of it, drawing families like a beacon.