Never Lie: A Novel by Freida McFadden PDF

[]{#titlepage.xhtml} []{#part0000.html} ::: {.calibre1} [ ]{.calibre3} [Never Lie]{.calibre3} [ ]{.calibre5} [a novel by]{.calibre6} [Freida McFadden]{.calibre6} {#part0000.html#calibre_pb_0.calibre7} ::: []{#part0001.html} ::: {.calibre1} [Never Lie]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [© 2022 by Freida McFadden. All rights reserved.]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents and places are the products of the authors' imagination, and are not to be construed as real. None of the characters in the book is based on an actual person. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintentional.]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} ::: []{#part0002.html} ::: {.calibre1} [Table of Contents]{.calibre9} [ ]{.calibre5} []{#part0002.html#toc.calibre11}[[Prologue]{.calibre12}](#part0003.html#_Toc110840269){.calibre11} [[Chapter 1]{.calibre12}](#part0004.html#_Toc110840270){.calibre11} [[Chapter 2]{.calibre12}](#part0005.html#_Toc110840271){.calibre11} [[Chapter 3]{.calibre12}](#part0006.html#_Toc110840272){.calibre11} [[Chapter 4]{.calibre12}](#part0007.html#_Toc110840273){.calibre11} [[Chapter 5]{.calibre12}](#part0008.html#_Toc110840274){.calibre11} [[Chapter 6]{.calibre12}](#part0009.html#_Toc110840275){.calibre11} [[Chapter 7]{.calibre12}](#part0010.html#_Toc110840276){.calibre11} [[Chapter 8]{.calibre12}](#part0011.html#_Toc110840277){.calibre11} [[Chapter 9]{.calibre12}](#part0012.html#_Toc110840278){.calibre11} [[Chapter 10]{.calibre12}](#part0013.html#_Toc110840279){.calibre11} [[Chapter 11]{.calibre12}](#part0014.html#_Toc110840280){.calibre11} [[Chapter 12]{.calibre12}](#part0015.html#_Toc110840281){.calibre11} [[Chapter 13]{.calibre12}](#part0016.html#_Toc110840282){.calibre11} [[Chapter 14]{.calibre12}](#part0017.html#_Toc110840283){.calibre11} [[Chapter 15]{.calibre12}](#part0018.html#_Toc110840284){.calibre11} [[Chapter 16]{.calibre12}](#part0019.html#_Toc110840285){.calibre11} [[Chapter 17]{.calibre12}](#part0020.html#_Toc110840286){.calibre11} [[Chapter 18]{.calibre12}](#part0021.html#_Toc110840287){.calibre11} [[Chapter 19]{.calibre12}](#part0022.html#_Toc110840288){.calibre11} [[Chapter 20]{.calibre12}](#part0023.html#_Toc110840289){.calibre11} [[Chapter 21]{.calibre12}](#part0024.html#_Toc110840290){.calibre11} [[Chapter 22]{.calibre12}](#part0025.html#_Toc110840291){.calibre11} [[Chapter 23]{.calibre12}](#part0026.html#_Toc110840292){.calibre11} [[Chapter 24]{.calibre12}](#part0027.html#_Toc110840293){.calibre11} [[Chapter 25]{.calibre12}](#part0028.html#_Toc110840294){.calibre11} [[Chapter 26]{.calibre12}](#part0029.html#_Toc110840295){.calibre11} [[Chapter 27]{.calibre12}](#part0030.html#_Toc110840296){.calibre11} [[Chapter 28]{.calibre12}](#part0031.html#_Toc110840297){.calibre11} [[Chapter 29]{.calibre12}](#part0032.html#_Toc110840298){.calibre11} [[Chapter 30]{.calibre12}](#part0033.html#_Toc110840299){.calibre11} [[Chapter 31]{.calibre12}](#part0034.html#_Toc110840300){.calibre11} [[Chapter 32]{.calibre12}](#part0035.html#_Toc110840301){.calibre11} [[Chapter 33]{.calibre12}](#part0036.html#_Toc110840302){.calibre11} [[Chapter 34]{.calibre12}](#part0037.html#_Toc110840303){.calibre11} [[Chapter 35]{.calibre12}](#part0038.html#_Toc110840304){.calibre11} [[Chapter 36]{.calibre12}](#part0039.html#_Toc110840305){.calibre11} [[Chapter 37]{.calibre12}](#part0040.html#_Toc110840306){.calibre11} [[Chapter 38]{.calibre12}](#part0041.html#_Toc110840307){.calibre11} [[Chapter 39]{.calibre12}](#part0042.html#_Toc110840308){.calibre11} [[Chapter 40]{.calibre12}](#part0043.html#_Toc110840309){.calibre11} [[Chapter 41]{.calibre12}](#part0044.html#_Toc110840310){.calibre11} [[Chapter 42]{.calibre12}](#part0045.html#_Toc110840311){.calibre11} [[Chapter 43]{.calibre12}](#part0046.html#_Toc110840312){.calibre11} [[Chapter 44]{.calibre12}](#part0047.html#_Toc110840313){.calibre11} [[Chapter 45]{.calibre12}](#part0048.html#_Toc110840314){.calibre11} [[Chapter 46]{.calibre12}](#part0049.html#_Toc110840315){.calibre11} [[Chapter 47]{.calibre12}](#part0050.html#_Toc110840316){.calibre11} [[Chapter 48]{.calibre12}](#part0051.html#_Toc110840317){.calibre11} [[Chapter 49]{.calibre12}](#part0052.html#_Toc110840318){.calibre11} [[Chapter 50]{.calibre12}](#part0053.html#_Toc110840319){.calibre11} [[Chapter 51]{.calibre12}](#part0054.html#_Toc110840320){.calibre11} [[Chapter 52]{.calibre12}](#part0055.html#_Toc110840321){.calibre11} [[Chapter 53]{.calibre12}](#part0056.html#_Toc110840322){.calibre11} [[Chapter 54]{.calibre12}](#part0057.html#_Toc110840323){.calibre11} [[Epilogue]{.calibre12}](#part0058.html#_Toc110840324){.calibre11} ::: []{#part0003.html} ::: {.calibre1} [ ]{.calibre6} {#part0003.html#calibre_pb_0.calibre14} ============== [ ]{.calibre6} {#section.calibre15} ============== ::: {#part0003.html#calibre_pb_1.calibre16} ::: [[Prologue]{#part0003.html#2RHM8-6902f46f58b244668212f0543ec669dc.calibre6}]{#part0003.html#_Toc110840269.calibre11} {#part0003.html#calibre_pb_2.calibre14} ====================================================================================================================== [ ]{.calibre9} [ADRIENNE]{.calibre19} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [Everybody lies.]{.calibre5} [Years ago, a psychological experiment was devised to estimate the prevalence of untruthful behavior. It involved a broken vending machine. ]{.calibre5} [Subjects were informed that the vending machine was malfunctioning. If they put in a dollar, the faulty machine would dispense candy, but then return their dollar. Subjects who used the vending machine found this to be absolutely true. They dispensed one, two, three, or even four pieces of free candy, and then retrieved their money from the machine.]{.calibre5} [There was a sign on the vending machine. The sign read: "To report any malfunctions with this machine, please call this number." Unbeknownst to the subjects, the number provided belonged to one researcher in the study. ]{.calibre5} [Take a guess how many of the subjects called this number to report the broken machine.]{.calibre5} [Zero.]{.calibre5} []{#part0003.html#_gjdgxs.calibre11}[That's right. Not even one of the dozens of subjects was honest enough to call the number and report the broken vending machine. Each one of them took their free candy and moved on.]{.calibre5} [As I said, everybody lies.]{.calibre5} [There are many easily identified signs that a person is lying, especially if they are an unskilled liar. As a trained psychiatrist, I am intimately familiar with these signs. It's almost too easy to spot them:]{.calibre5} [Liars fidget. ]{.calibre5} [The tone of their voice or speech patterns changes. ]{.calibre5} [Liars offer too much information, babbling on with excessive detail to convince themselves or others of what they are saying. ]{.calibre5} [Machines have been built to recognize these patterns and identify them. However, even the best lie detector has a twenty-five percent rate of error. I am far more accurate than that. ]{.calibre5} [If you listen to the audiotapes of my patient encounters, you can't always tell. On tape, you miss the important visual cues. Avoiding eye contact, for example, or covering their mouth or eyes. But if you are my patient, and you are sitting in my office talking to me, I can watch your face and your gestures and listen to the pitch of your voice. ]{.calibre5} [I will know the truth. I always know.]{.calibre5} [Never lie to me. ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} ::: []{#part0004.html} ::: {.calibre1} [ ]{.calibre6} {#part0004.html#calibre_pb_0.calibre14} ============== [ ]{.calibre6} {#section-1.calibre15} ============== ::: {#part0004.html#calibre_pb_1.calibre16} ::: [[Chapter 1]{.calibre6}]{#part0004.html#_Toc110840270.calibre11} {#part0004.html#calibre_pb_2.calibre14} ================================================================= [ ]{.calibre5} [TRICIA]{.calibre19} [ ]{.calibre5} [Present Day]{.calibre21} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [We're hopelessly lost and my husband won't admit it. ]{.calibre5} [I can't say this is atypical behavior for Ethan. We've been married for six months---still newlyweds---and ninety percent of the time, he's the perfect husband. He knows all the most romantic restaurants in town, he still surprises me with flowers, and when he asks me about my day, he actually listens to my answer and asks appropriate follow-up questions.]{.calibre5} [But the other ten percent of the time, he is so stubborn, I could scream.]{.calibre5} ["You missed the turn for Cedar Lane," I tell him. "We passed it like half a mile down the road."]{.calibre5} ["]{.calibre5}[No]{.calibre22}[." A scary-looking vein bulges in Ethan's neck. "It's up ahead. We didn't pass it."]{.calibre5} [I let out a frustrated huff as I clutch the printed directions to the house in Westchester, courtesy of our real estate agent, Judy. Yes, we do have GPS. But that signal went out about ten minutes ago. Now all we've got to rely on are these written directions. It's like living in the Stone Age.]{.calibre5} [Well, Ethan wanted something out of the way. He's getting his wish.]{.calibre5} [The worst part is that it's ]{.calibre5}[snowing]{.calibre22}[. It started a few hours ago, back when we were leaving Manhattan. When we left, they were cute little white flakes that evaporated on contact with the ground. Over the last hour, the flakes have quadrupled in size. They're not cute anymore. ]{.calibre5} [And now that we have turned off the highway, this more deserted, narrow road is slick with snow. And it's not like Ethan drives a truck. His BMW has gorgeous hand-stitched leather seats, but only front-wheel drive. And he's not incredibly skilled at driving in the snow either. If we skidded, he probably wouldn't even know whether to turn ]{.calibre5}[into]{.calibre22}[ the skid or ]{.calibre5}[out]{.calibre22}[ of the skid. (Into the skid, right?)]{.calibre5} [As if on cue, the BMW skids on a patch of slushy ice. Ethan's fingers are bloodless on the steering wheel. He rights the vehicle, but my heart is pounding. The snow is getting really bad. He pulls over to the side of the road and holds out his hand to me.]{.calibre5} ["Let me see those directions."]{.calibre5} [Dutifully, I hand over the slightly crumpled piece of paper. I wish he had let me drive. Ethan would never admit I'm better at navigating than he is. "I think we passed the turn, Ethan."]{.calibre5} [He looks down at a sheet of typed directions. Then he squints out the windshield. Even with the wipers going full speed and our high beams on, the visibility is horrible. Now that the sun has dropped in the sky, we can only see about ten feet ahead of us. Everything past that is pure white. "No. I see how to get there."]{.calibre5} ["Are you sure?"]{.calibre5} [Instead of answering my question, he grumbles, "You should have checked the weather before we got on the road."]{.calibre5} ["Maybe we should turn back?" I press my hands between my knees. "We can view the house another time." Like when there isn't a freaking blizzard raging outside the car.]{.calibre5} [My husband whips his head around and glares at me like I have lost my mind. "Tricia, we've been driving for almost ]{.calibre5}[two hours]{.calibre22}[ to get here. We're about ten minutes away, and now you want to ]{.calibre5}[turn around and go home]{.calibre22}[?"]{.calibre5} [That's another thing I have learned about Ethan in the six months since we've been married. Once he gets an idea in his head to do something, he does not back down until it's done. I suppose I could see it as a good thing. I wouldn't want to be married to a man who left a bunch of half-finished projects around the house. ]{.calibre5} [I'm still learning about Ethan. All my girlfriends scolded me for marrying him too quickly. We met in a coffee shop one day---I tripped and spilled my drink right next to his table, and he insisted on buying me a new one. ]{.calibre5} [It was one of those love at first sight deals. When I saw him, I fell hard for his blond hair streaked with even blonder strands. His blue eyes were the color of the sky on a clear day and rimmed with pale lashes. And his strong Roman nose kept him from being too pretty. When he smiled at me, I was a goner. We spent the next six hours together, sharing coffee, then later that same evening, he took me out to dinner. That night, I broke up with my boyfriend of over a year, explaining apologetically that I had met the man I was going to marry.]{.calibre5} [Nine months later, my Coffee Shop Romeo and I were married. Six months later, we're moving out to the suburbs. Our entire relationship has been on fast forward.]{.calibre5} [But so far, no regrets. The more I learn about Ethan, the more I fall in love with him. And he feels the same way about me. It's so amazing sharing my life with him.]{.calibre5} [Except for the one big secret he doesn't know about yet. ]{.calibre5} ["Fine," I say. "Let's find the house."]{.calibre5} [Ethan hands me the sheet of directions. He throws the BMW back into drive. "I know exactly where to go. It's right up ahead."]{.calibre5} [That remains to be seen.]{.calibre5} [He drives slower this time, both to account for the snow and to keep from missing the turn, which I'm certain that he already missed about half a mile down the road. I keep my eyes on the road as well even though the windshield is now caked with snow. I try to think warm, dry thoughts.]{.calibre5} ["There!" Ethan cries. "I see it!"]{.calibre5} [I lean forward in my seat, straining the seatbelt. He ]{.calibre5}[sees]{.calibre22}[ it? Sees ]{.calibre5}[what]{.calibre22}[, exactly? Is he wearing invisible snow/night vision goggles? Because all I can see is snow, and then beyond that, more snow, and beyond ]{.calibre5}[that]{.calibre22}[, blackness. But then he slows down, and sure enough, there's a little path leading into a wooded area. He turns the high beams in the direction of a sign that's almost obscured by snow. I can just barely make out the words as he takes the turn just a bit too fast.]{.calibre5} [Cedar Lane.]{.calibre22} [What do you know---Ethan was right all along. I was sure he had passed the turn for Cedar, but he hadn't. It's right here. Although now that we're on the tiny narrow road to get to the house, I am concerned the BMW won't make it. When I look over at my husband's face, I can tell he is worried about the same thing. The path to the house is barely paved, and now it's thick with snow.]{.calibre5} ["We should tell Judy to keep the showing quick," I say. "We don't want to get stuck here."]{.calibre5} [Ethan bobs his head in agreement. "I have to be honest. I wanted something out-of-the-way, but this is insane. I mean, it's like we're in the middle of..."]{.calibre5} [His voice trails off mid-sentence. I can only imagine he was going to point out that we are in the middle of nowhere. But before he can get out the words, his mouth falls open. Because the house has finally come into view.]{.calibre5} [And it's unbelievable.]{.calibre5} [The listing on Judy's website mentioned that it's two stories tall, plus an attic, but that description doesn't do justice to this sprawling estate. The ceilings must be extremely high, because the steep gable roof of the house seems to scrape against the sky, heavy with snow. The sides of the house are lined with pointed arch windows that give the house a look of a cathedral rather than a place where people live. Ethan's jaw looks like it might unhinge.]{.calibre5} ["Jesus," he breathes. "Can you imagine ]{.calibre5}[living]{.calibre22}[ in a place like that?"]{.calibre5} [I may know my husband for only just over a year, but I recognize the look on his face. He's not asking a rhetorical question. He ]{.calibre5}[wants]{.calibre22}[ to live in this house. We have dragged poor Judy across half of Westchester and Long Island, because no place we have seen has quite lived up to the picture Ethan has in his head. But now...]{.calibre5} ["You like it?" I say.]{.calibre5} ["Don't you think it's great? I mean, look at the place."]{.calibre5} [I open my mouth to agree with him. This house is undeniably beautiful. It's huge and elegant and remote---all the things we have been searching for. It's a perfect home to fill up with children, which is our eventual goal. I want to tell Ethan that I love the house as much as he does. That when Judy arrives, we should make her an offer on the spot. ]{.calibre5} [But I can't do that.]{.calibre5} [Because as I stare out at this sprawling estate, a sick feeling comes over me. So sick that I cover my mouth and take a deep breath to keep from losing my lunch all over the BMW\'s expensive upholstery. I have never felt this way before. Not about any of the dozens of empty houses we have toured over the last couple of months. I have never had a feeling this strong. ]{.calibre5} [Something terrible has happened in this house.]{.calibre22} ["Oh crap," Ethan says.]{.calibre5} [I take another shaky breath, pushing away another wave of nausea. That's when I notice we have stopped moving. The front wheels spin determinedly, but it's no use. The car is stuck.]{.calibre5} ["The roads are too slippery," he says. "We can't get any traction."]{.calibre5} [I hug myself and shiver, even though the heat is blasting. "What should we do?"]{.calibre5} ["Well..." He reaches out to wipe some condensation off the windshield. "We're pretty close to the house. We can walk it."]{.calibre5} [Easy for him to say. He's not wearing Manolo Blahnik boots. ]{.calibre5} ["Also, it looks like Judy is already here," he adds.]{.calibre5} ["Really? I don't see her car."]{.calibre5} ["Yeah, but the lights are on. She must be parked in the garage."]{.calibre5} [I squint through the fogged windshield at the house. Now that I'm looking closer, I can see a single light aglow in one of the upstairs windows. That's odd. If a real estate agent were showing a house, wouldn't she turn the lights on ]{.calibre5}[downstairs]{.calibre22}[? But the entire first floor of the house is dark. There's only that one light upstairs. ]{.calibre5} [Once again, I shiver. ]{.calibre5} ["Come on," Ethan says. "We're better off inside. It's not like we can spend the night in the car. We'll run out of gas and freeze to death."]{.calibre5} [Not an appealing thought. I'm starting to regret this entire trip. What was I thinking coming out here? But Ethan loves the house. Maybe this will all work out.]{.calibre5} ["Fine," I say. "Let's walk."]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} ::: []{#part0005.html} ::: {.calibre1} [ ]{.calibre6} {#part0005.html#calibre_pb_0.calibre14} ============== [ ]{.calibre6} {#section-2.calibre15} ============== ::: {#part0005.html#calibre_pb_1.calibre16} ::: [[Chapter 2]{.calibre6}]{#part0005.html#_Toc110840271.calibre11} {#part0005.html#calibre_pb_2.calibre14} ================================================================= [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [Oh my God, it's so cold. ]{.calibre5} [As soon as I open the passenger's side door to the BMW, I deeply regret agreeing to walk to the house. I'm wearing my Ralph Lauren wool coat that goes down to my knees, but I may as well be wearing a sheet of paper because the wind seems to go right through me, even when I pull up my hood. ]{.calibre5} [But the worst part is my feet. I am wearing leather boots, but they're not really ]{.calibre5}[snow]{.calibre22}[ boots, if you know what I mean. They add a much-appreciated three inches to my height, and they look gorgeous with skinny blue jeans, but they do absolutely nothing to protect my feet from the foot of snow now surrounding them. ]{.calibre5} [Why oh why did I buy a pair of stylish boots that have no ability to function as boots? I'm starting to deeply regret all of my life choices at the moment. My mother always said not to leave the house in shoes you can't walk a mile in.]{.calibre5} ["You okay, Tricia?" Ethan asks. "You're not cold, are you?"]{.calibre5} [He crinkles his forehead, perplexed by my chattering teeth and lips that are slowly turning blue. He's wearing the black ski jacket he bought last month, and although I can't see his feet, I'm fairly sure ]{.calibre5}[his]{.calibre22}[ boots are big and warm. I want to wring his neck for making me do this, but that would involve taking my hands out of my deep pockets and would probably result in frostbite, because unlike him, I don't have gloves. I must admit---the man came more prepared than I did.]{.calibre5} ["I'm a bit cold," I reply. "My boots aren't snowproof."]{.calibre5} [Ethan looks down at his own footwear, then back up at me. After a moment of consideration, he tromps around the side of the car, then crouches down beside me. "Okay, hop on my back."]{.calibre5} [Forget everything I said. I love my husband. Truly.]{.calibre5} [He gives me a piggyback ride along the rest of the path, past the FOR SALE sign on the snow-covered front lawn, and all the way to the front door. The porch has been largely shielded from the snow, and that's where he carefully lowers me onto the ground. He shakes snowflakes out of his now damp blond hair and blinks droplets of water from his eyelashes. ]{.calibre5} ["Thank you." I smile at him, giddy with affection for my strong, handsome husband. "You're my hero."]{.calibre5} ["My pleasure." And then he bows. ]{.calibre5}[Swoon]{.calibre22}[. I'm loving this honeymoon phase of our marriage.]{.calibre5} [Ethan pulls off his wool gloves and presses his thumb against the doorbell. We hear the chimes ringing out throughout the house, but after several moments of waiting, no footsteps are coming to the door to let us in. ]{.calibre5} [The other strange thing is that the first floor of the house is completely dark. We both saw that light on upstairs, so we assumed someone was home. We assumed it was Judy. But if Judy were here, she would be downstairs, wouldn't she? She wouldn't be upstairs in a random bedroom. The first floor of the house is dead silent.]{.calibre5} ["Maybe the owners are home," Ethan says, straining his neck to look up at the towering estate.]{.calibre5} ["Maybe..." ]{.calibre5} [But there's another strange thing about all this. There's no car on the property. Not that I can see anyway. Of course, in a snowstorm, the owner's car would likely be tucked away in the garage. Judy likely wouldn't park in the garage, so the fact that her car isn't visible is evidence that she hasn't arrived.]{.calibre5} [Ethan rings the doorbell again while I pull my phone out of my purse. "There are no messages from Judy," I report. "Although my signal went out at least twenty minutes ago, so it's possible she's trying to contact us now."]{.calibre5} [He digs his own phone out of his pocket and frowns down at the screen. "I don't have any signal either."]{.calibre5} [We still hear only silence coming from the house. Ethan walks over to the window next to the door and cups his hands over his eyes to see inside. He shakes his head. ]{.calibre5} ["There definitely isn't anybody on the first floor. I'm not convinced there's anyone here at all." He shrugs. "Maybe Judy left the light on upstairs the last time she was here."]{.calibre5} [That doesn't sound like Judy. Judy Teitelbaum is the consummate professional. She's been showing houses since before I was born, and every place she has shown us has been immaculate. She must scrub them down herself. I'm afraid to even touch anything when I'm in one of the houses for a showing. If I put down a drink without a coaster, I might give Judy a stroke. So no, I don't think she would leave the house with an upstairs light on. But I'm struggling to come up with another explanation.]{.calibre5} [Ethan tugs at the collar of his puffy jacket while I hug myself for warmth. "Well, I don't know what to do. She's obviously not here."]{.calibre5} [I let out a frustrated sigh. "Great. So what are we supposed to do?"]{.calibre5} ["Hang on..." His eyes drop to the mat below our feet---the word "welcome" is written in elaborate script, partially obscured by the snow. "Maybe there's a spare key around here somewhere."]{.calibre5} [There isn't one under the welcome mat---that would be far too obvious---but a more thorough search turns up a key concealed beneath a potted plant near the door. The key is ice cold and slightly damp in my palm.]{.calibre5} ["So..." I raise my eyebrows at Ethan. "Should we go inside without her? Do you think that's okay?"]{.calibre5} ["We better. Who knows how long she's going to be, and it's freezing out here." He throws an arm protectively around my shoulders. "I don't want you to catch pneumonia."]{.calibre5} [He's right. With no cell phone signal and with the car getting increasingly buried in the snow, we need shelter. At least in the house, we'll be safe.]{.calibre5} [I fit the key in the lock and hear the lock turn. I place my hand on the doorknob, which is freezing cold under my palm. I attempt to twist the knob, but the door doesn't budge. Damn. I look down at the key, still wedged in the lock. "Do you think there's a deadbolt?"]{.calibre5} ["Let me try."]{.calibre5} [I step back to let Ethan have a go at it. He jiggles the key a bit, then he tries the knob. Nothing. He steps back for a moment, then grips the doorknob again and throws his entire weight against the heavy wooden door. With a loud creaking sound, the door pops open.]{.calibre5} ["You did it!" ]{.calibre5}[My hero. Swoon.]{.calibre22} [The house is pitch black inside. Ethan flicks a switch on the wall, and my stomach sinks when nothing happens. But then the overhead lights flicker for a moment before coming to life. The power is on, thank God. The lighting is dim---several of the bulbs have probably blown out---but it's enough to illuminate the expansive living space.]{.calibre5} [And my jaw drops.]{.calibre5} [First of all, the living room is huge, and it seems even larger with the open floor plan. After living in a Manhattan apartment for the last several years, almost every house seems enormous to us. But this one is ]{.calibre5}[museum]{.calibre22}[-level enormous. It's ]{.calibre5}[airport]{.calibre22}[-level enormous. And as large as the square footage is, it seems so much larger because of the high ceilings. ]{.calibre5} ["Jesus," Ethan breathes. "This place is incredible. It's like a cathedral."]{.calibre5} ["Yes." ]{.calibre5} ["And the asking price is so ]{.calibre5}[low]{.calibre22}[. This house looks like it should be worth four times as much as that."]{.calibre5} [Even as I nod my head in agreement with him, I get another wave of that sick feeling. ]{.calibre5}[Something terrible has happened in this house.]{.calibre22} ["There could be mold," he says thoughtfully. "Or the foundation is crap. We should have the place inspected by someone really good before we sign anything."]{.calibre5} [I don't respond to that. I don't tell him I'm secretly hoping this place is infested with mold or crumbling at the base or some other reason that I can say no to living here without sounding like some crazy woman who won't buy a house her husband loves because she has ]{.calibre5}[a bad feeling]{.calibre22}[ about it.]{.calibre5} [And there's something else strange about this house.]{.calibre5} [It's completely furnished. The living room has a sectional sofa, a loveseat, a coffee table, and bookcases filled to the brim with books. I walk over to the beautiful brown leather sectional sofa and run my finger along one of the cushions. The leather feels stiff, like nobody has used the cushions in ages, and my finger comes away black. Dust---years' worth of it. ]{.calibre5} [Some of the houses we've seen have been furnished because the owners were still living there, but those houses looked lived in. This house doesn't. There are multiple layers of dust on every piece of furniture in the living room. Yet this furniture isn't the kind that somebody would leave behind when they moved. That leather couch probably cost somewhere in the order of five figures. And who leaves behind every single one of their books?]{.calibre5} [The floor looks dusty too, like nobody has walked on it in a long time. When I lift my eyes, I notice thick cobwebs in every corner of the living room. I can almost imagine the spiders crawling through those webs, waiting to sink their fangs into me. ]{.calibre5} [It's also more evidence that Judy has not been here. There's no way Judy would leave a house this dusty. And cobwebs? Not a chance. It's against her religion.]{.calibre5} [I turn to Ethan, about to point this out, but he's distracted by something. A gigantic portrait of a woman hanging over the mantle. He is staring up at it, a strangely dark look on his face.]{.calibre5} ["Hey," I say. "What's wrong?"]{.calibre5} [His pale eyelashes flutter. He seems surprised that I'm suddenly standing next to him, as if he had forgotten I was here. "Oh. Uh, nothing. I just... who do you think that is?"]{.calibre5} [I follow his gaze up to the portrait. It's gigantic---larger than life. And the woman featured in the portrait is striking. There's no other word for her---she's the sort of woman who, if you saw her on the street, you would stop and do a double take. She looks to be in her mid-thirties, with pin-straight hair that falls just below her shoulders. At first, I would have called her hair auburn, but when I tilt my head to the side, it morphs into a brilliant shade of red. Her skin is pale and flawless, but I suppose anyone can have beautiful skin in a painting. But one of her most striking features is her vivid green eyes. So many people have green eyes flecked with brown or blue, but hers are such an intense shade of green that they seem like they could leap off the canvas.]{.calibre5} ["Maybe she lived here?" I suggest.]{.calibre5} [Ethan's lips twist into a sneer. "What kind of arrogant, self-obsessed person would put a gigantic painting of herself over the fireplace?"]{.calibre5} ["You mean you don't want me to put a giant painting of myself on the wall in our new home?" I tease him.]{.calibre5} [Ethan flashes me a withering smile. Something about the painting has disturbed him, and he doesn't seem like he wants to talk about it.]{.calibre5} [I wander over to the bookcase near the fireplace, still wearing my wool coat because it's far too cold to remove it. Whoever lived here must've loved to read because there are multiple bookcases scattered throughout the room, all nearly overflowing with books. I glance at some titles on the shelves, in case we are stuck here for a while and I need something to entertain me. There's an entire shelf containing books with the exact same title.]{.calibre5} [The Anatomy of Fear.]{.calibre22} [A little shiver goes down my spine, and I hug my coat to my chest. I pluck one of the many hardcover titles off the shelf, which has a layer of dust on it, like everything else in the house. ]{.calibre5}[The Anatomy of Fear]{.calibre22}[ by Adrienne Hale, MD, PhD. And there's a picture of a dripping knife on the cover. Great. Exactly what I want to see right now.]{.calibre5} [I flip the book around. There are a few choice quotes from well-known authors and professionals praising the book. And in the left-hand lower corner, there's a photograph of the author. It's the same picture that's hanging over the mantle.]{.calibre5} ["Ethan," I say. "Look at this."]{.calibre5} [He rips his eyes away from the portrait and joins me by the bookcase. He looks over my shoulder at the photograph on the back of the book. "Adrienne Hale," he reads off the back cover. "Isn't she that shrink who got murdered?"]{.calibre5} [He's right. Three years ago, the disappearance of Dr. Adrienne Hale was one of the biggest stories in the news. Especially since it happened shortly after the release of her pop psychology hit, which stayed on the ]{.calibre5}[New York Times ]{.calibre22}[bestseller list for almost a year, hogging the number one spot for months. Everyone in the country read that book, including yours truly. Of course, the massive success of the book was largely because her disappearance was such a sensational story. ]{.calibre5} ["She disappeared," I correct him. "I don't think they ever found her body."]{.calibre5} [He tugs the hardcover out of my hands and flips through the pages. "I bet they did eventually find her. Washed up somewhere."]{.calibre5} ["Maybe." Adrienne Hale disappeared from the news cycle at least two years ago, and her book dropped off the charts as well. "You read it, didn't you?"]{.calibre5} [His eyes are still on the pages in front of him as he shakes his head. "I hate that pop psychology crap."]{.calibre5} ["No, it was really good." I poke a finger at the open pages in his hand. "It's all about her patients, you know? The horrible experiences they went through and how they dealt with it."]{.calibre5} ["Yeah, not interested." He rests the book on top of a random shelf, suddenly bored with it. Ethan isn't much of a reader. "Her boyfriend killed her, right? I remember that part. He was some tech guy or something."]{.calibre5} ["They accused him but I don't think he went to jail for it."]{.calibre5} ["He probably did it though."]{.calibre5} ["Probably." I nod. "There are a lot of crazy men out there."]{.calibre5} [He grabs my hand and pulls me toward him so I can feel his hot breath on my cheek. "Aren't you glad I saved you from all those jerks?"]{.calibre5} [I roll my eyes, but he's not entirely wrong. I've dated some jerks in the past. Nobody who was homicidal like Dr. Adrienne Hale's boyfriend, but I had a guy once cheat on me with my best friend. It was almost a cliché. Ethan, on the other hand, has been incredibly loyal during the time we've been together. He never even looks at other women, even though they look at him all the time.]{.calibre5} ["You think this is her house then?" I ask. "Dr. Adrienne Hale?"]{.calibre5} ["Probably." He glances up at the portrait again. "That or somebody who was dangerously obsessed with her."]{.calibre5} [Even though I'm wearing my coat, I'm still freezing. I rub my arms for warmth. If we're here much longer, maybe we can figure out how to turn on the heat. Ethan is good at stuff like that. "Wouldn't it bother you to live in the home of a dead woman?"]{.calibre5} ["Not really." He shrugs. "Everyone dies eventually, right? So unless we buy a brand new house, you're kind of guaranteed somebody has lived in it who's now dead. So what?"]{.calibre5} [Fun new facts I'm learning about my husband of six months: he does ]{.calibre5}[not]{.calibre22}[ have a spiritual side. ]{.calibre5} [I skim my eyes over at the bookcase, resting them on the book Ethan casually tossed on top of the shelf. Somehow, it feels like Adrienne Hale wouldn't like him messing with her bookshelf---like he disturbed the energy in the house. I take the book and replace it on the shelf where it was before. Hopefully, that appeases her ghost temporarily, even if her killer is still out there somewhere.]{.calibre5} [My stomach lets out an embarrassing growl. "When do you think Judy will be here? I'm starving."]{.calibre5} ["I have no idea." He looks down at his Rolex. "Let me double check if her car is in the garage."]{.calibre5} [While Ethan goes off in search of the door to the garage, my gaze drops to the floor beneath my feet. The wood is so filthy that I'd be reluctant to walk barefoot here---the soles of my feet would almost certainly turn black. But as I look down at the floor in the flickering overhead lights, I notice a change in the dust pattern near the bookcase. It almost looks like...]{.calibre5} [A footprint.]{.calibre5} [I creep over to get a closer look, squinting in the dim lighting. It definitely looks like a footprint. I put my own boot next to the print---whoever made the footprint had feet quite a lot larger than mine. Could it be Ethan's footprint? It looks about the right size, but I didn't see him standing over here. ]{.calibre5} ["The garage is empty." Ethan emerges from a door near the kitchen, brushing what looks like a cobweb off his shoulder. "Judy's not here."]{.calibre5} [I shiver, even with my coat still on. "Hey, come look at this."]{.calibre5} [Ethan walks over to me, and I recognize that the two of us are creating new footprints everywhere we go. "What? What's wrong?"]{.calibre5} ["Is this a footprint?"]{.calibre5} [He narrows his eyes at the dust pattern on the floor. "Maybe?"]{.calibre5} ["So who made it?"]{.calibre5} ["I don't know. Judy?"]{.calibre5} [I raise my eyebrows. "You think Judy wears size ten men's shoes?"]{.calibre5} [Ethan lets out a breath, and I swear I can see the puff of air in the frigid living room. "Then maybe it was someone else viewing the house."]{.calibre5} [Except there's no way Judy was showing anyone a house this dusty. My eyes scan the floor, but I don't see any other footprints as noticeable as these. "When do you think Judy will get here?"]{.calibre5} [He frowns. "I don't know if Judy is going to make it, Tricia."]{.calibre5} ["She wouldn't stand us up."]{.calibre5} ["Yeah, but there's a blizzard out there. We barely made it and the snow is just getting worse. Honestly, it was irresponsible of her to even schedule the viewing tonight."]{.calibre5} ["So..." I chew on the tip of my thumbnail. "Do you think we could be stuck here? Like, for the night?"]{.calibre5} [Our heads swivel simultaneously to look over at one of the picture windows. The snow is coming down harder than it's ever been before. It's like a wall of white is being dumped from the sky. Our car is probably buried, and it's not like it was doing so great in the snow before.]{.calibre5} ["I think we might be," he says. "But don't worry. I mean, look at this place---I bet the kitchen is stocked with food. And even if it isn't, we've got that emergency supply kit you make me keep in the trunk. Doesn't that have a bunch of power bars in it?"]{.calibre5} ["I... I think so..."]{.calibre5} ["So let's go get something to eat."]{.calibre5} [Ethan strides purposefully in the direction of the kitchen. I can't believe he's not even the slightest bit worried, even though we're now trapped in this unfamiliar house full of cobwebs and scary footprints. That's how Ethan is. He's always so confident. I love that about him.]{.calibre5} [So I follow my new husband to the kitchen. But the whole time, I can't shake the horrible feeling that those green eyes in the portrait over the mantle are watching me.]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} ::: []{#part0006.html} ::: {.calibre1} [ ]{.calibre6} {#part0006.html#calibre_pb_0.calibre14} ============== [ ]{.calibre6} {#section-3.calibre15} ============== ::: {#part0006.html#calibre_pb_1.calibre16} ::: [[Chapter 3]{.calibre6}]{#part0006.html#_Toc110840272.calibre11} {#part0006.html#calibre_pb_2.calibre14} ================================================================= [ ]{.calibre5} [ADRIENNE]{.calibre19} [ ]{.calibre5} [Before]{.calibre21} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [Paige is cursing to herself as she stumbles on a loose brick on the walkway to my front door. I watch her from the window, wondering if I should call someone to get that brick fixed this week. I don't want somebody to fall on it, shatter their ankle, and then I'm responsible. Legally, that is. If Paige fell, it would be her own fault. She would have far more stability if she weren't clutching a manila envelope in her right hand and scrolling through the screen on her phone with her left as she teeters in her three-inch heels.]{.calibre5} [Paige has been my literary agent for the last five years, and I have never seen her without her phone in hand. There's a possibility it has fused to her palm. I have spoken to her in the past and I swear I've heard the shower running in the background. Once, I heard the toilet flush. When we speak, she looks up from the screen to meet my eyes, but only briefly.]{.calibre5} [Paige tucks the manila envelope under her arm so she can ring the doorbell. It's unnecessary, given I've been monitoring her Audi's trajectory down my driveway, but she doesn't know that. Chimes echo through the house, and I take my time heading to the front door. Paige may be in a rush, but I'm not. I've got the entire morning free before my first patient arrives.]{.calibre5} [Paige has her eyes pinned on her phone screen when I crack open the door. Her usually perfectly highlighted hair is slightly windblown from the drive, but she otherwise looks impeccable in a black silk dress and spiky pumps. ]{.calibre5} ["Adrienne!" A smile spreads across my agent's face at the sight of me, although she still doesn't put away her phone. "How are you?"]{.calibre5} [How are you?]{.calibre22}[ The three most useless words in the universe of communication. Nobody who asks that question wants to know the answer. And nobody who answers ever tells the truth. "I'm fine, Paige."]{.calibre5} [She pauses for a beat, waiting for me to return the nicety. When it is obvious that I'm not going to, she shakes her phone slightly in her left hand. "Sorry I was late. The GPS conked out on my phone. The signal around here is terrible."]{.calibre5} ["Yes," I say sympathetically. "It is."]{.calibre5} [I live far enough off the beaten path that most people can't get a signal out here. Within my house, I have a MicroCell tower and Wi-Fi. But in anticipation of Paige's visit, I shut them both off. While she is here, I want her full attention. I would never pay more attention to my phone than to a patient, and I don't enjoy competing for Paige's attention.]{.calibre5} [I take a step back to allow Paige to enter the house. She's only been here once before, and she sucks in a breath at the sheer size of it all. The living area is impressive. Paige lives in Manhattan, probably in a tiny shoebox of an apartment that costs a small fortune.]{.calibre5} ["This is an amazing house," she breathes. She is so astounded that she lowers her phone entirely so that it hangs at her side. "So much space."]{.calibre5} ["Thank you."]{.calibre5} [Her eyes dart around, from the sectional leather sofa to the antique bookcases to the spiraling staircase up to the second level. She could just leave the compliment as it is, but that's not Paige's style. Instead, she feels compelled to add, "It's just you in this big place?"]{.calibre5} [She knows I'm not married. No children. My parents are long gone. "Yes. Just me."]{.calibre5} ["Geez..." She scratches her cheek. "I'd be scared to live here. I mean, you ]{.calibre5}[are]{.calibre22}[ out in the middle of nowhere. You don't even have good cell service. Anyone could come in here and..."]{.calibre5} [It's not as if Paige is the first person to suggest such a thing. If I had any close family members or close friends, I'm sure they would worry about me. But I'm not worried.]{.calibre5} ["Do you have a security system?" she asks.]{.calibre5} [I lift a shoulder. "I have locks on the doors."]{.calibre5} [She looks at me like I've lost my mind. But I feel safe here. Isolation is not necessarily dangerous. The turn to get onto the small dirt road to my house is so narrow that many people drive by it without even noticing. And I need the extra space because this house also serves as my office. I do my writing here and I have a room where I see patients. ]{.calibre5} [I'm disappointed in Paige for her judgment, even though I'm not surprised. I'm sure many people could judge her for her own choices. If she hadn't taken the time to push out two rugrats, she might be further in her career. She might not have to suck up to someone like me. ]{.calibre5} [And also, she wears far too much makeup. I don't trust women who cake on layers of foundation like a mask that adheres directly to their skin.]{.calibre5} ["You know..." Paige gives a sympathetic tilt of her head. "I could see if Alex knows anyone for you. I'm sure one of his colleagues from work would be happy to take you out."]{.calibre5} ["No need," I say through my teeth.]{.calibre5} ["Are you sure? Because---"]{.calibre5} ["I'm sure."]{.calibre5} [She shrugs like she thinks I have made a tragic error in judgment by not accepting a pity date from her husband. It's not the first time she's offered. After a few times, you would think she'd get the message I'm not interested, but sadly, she has not.]{.calibre5} ["Anyway." Paige thrusts the Manila envelope at me, her bright red fingernails shining under the overhead lights. "Here's the proof of your new book."]{.calibre5} [I accept the envelope from her grasp. I'm tempted to rip it open. This book is the culmination of two years of research and late nights spent poring over my notes and pounding on the keyboard. But I don't want to look at it in front of Paige. I'll do it after she leaves. ]{.calibre5} ["Thank you," I say.]{.calibre5} ["Gruesome stuff," she comments, crinkling her nose. She made no secret of the fact that she thought I should "tone down" some of the violent scenes described in the book, but I was adamant they should stay as is. "It's hard to read---for some people."]{.calibre5} ["It's all true."]{.calibre5} [Paige eyes the envelope in my hand. She was hoping I would open it in front of her. She drove all the way up here from Manhattan after all. It's no small trip to Westchester, but my first book, ]{.calibre5}[Know Yourself]{.calibre22}[, was on the ]{.calibre5}[New York Times]{.calibre22}[ bestseller list for twenty-seven weeks. This highly anticipated follow-up could be worth a fortune to her. She wants to keep me happy. ]{.calibre5} [She stands there for a moment, waiting to see if I'll offer her a tour or perhaps a cup of coffee. She wants to be my friend. Or at least, she wants a pretend friendship, where we gossip, do lunch at a café, and act as though we don't dislike one another.]{.calibre5} [I don't have friends. I never have. ]{.calibre5} ["Could I..." She licks her lips. "Could I trouble you for a glass of water?"]{.calibre5} [I throw a glance toward my kitchen. "Of course. The water is a bit brown though, I have to warn you. I've gotten used to the metallic taste, but it bothers some people."]{.calibre5} [Her nose crinkles again. She has the faintest hint of freckles on the bridge, no doubt covered by several layers of makeup. "Brown water? Adrienne, you should have somebody take a look at that."]{.calibre5} ["Oh, I don't mind. It tastes fine. Let me grab that water for you."]{.calibre5} ["Actually, that's okay."]{.calibre5} ["Are you sure?"]{.calibre5} ["Yes, it's fine." She looks a tad green at the idea of choking down a glass of my fictional brown water. She wants to be my friend, but not that badly. "I should be heading out now. It's a long drive back to the city."]{.calibre5} [I nod. "Drive safely."]{.calibre5} [She takes one last long look around my house. She's probably wondering how much it cost me. In another life, Paige could have been a real estate agent. She has the right personality for it. Pushy as hell.]{.calibre5} ["Honestly," she says, "you should think about getting some sort of security system for this place. I don't want to come here one day and find you murdered in the living room."]{.calibre5} [Statistically, the risk of such a thing is low. Less than a quarter of all homicide victims are female. Most of those women are young and low-income. ]{.calibre5} ["Or get a boyfriend," Paige adds with a laugh. "Like I said, happy to help on that front."]{.calibre5} [Up to seventy percent of females who have been murdered are killed by an intimate partner. So in actuality, her suggestion to "get a boyfriend" is not only highly judgmental and insulting but would only ]{.calibre5}[increase]{.calibre22}[ my risk of meeting with a violent end. But I will not debate this woman. ]{.calibre5} ["I'm really fine," I say again. "I don't need a security system."]{.calibre5} [She considers this for a moment then snorts. "Yeah, that's right. You invite the crazies right in, don't you?"]{.calibre5} [It hits me now. I don't know how I never saw it. Paige doesn't respect what I do. She has been my advocate through two publications, and in her defense, she's damn good at it. But she doesn't believe in any of it. To her, the people I help are a bunch of "crazies." ]{.calibre5} [During the five years I have known Paige, she has insulted my home and my lifestyle choices, and she's been the harshest critic of my manuscripts. I have taken every bit of her abuse because she's good at what she does. But today, she has crossed a line.]{.calibre5} [Nobody talks about my patients that way.]{.calibre5} ["Paige." I tap the corner of my right eye. "You've got a bit of mascara caked right here."]{.calibre5} ["Oh!" Her black eyelashes flutter as her hand flies self-consciously to her eyes. She automatically reaches into her purse to search for a compact, but in the process, her phone slips from her left hand and clatters loudly to the wood floor. "Shit..."]{.calibre5} [She scoops up her phone---there's a spiderweb of cracks imprinted on the screen. She looks like she's going to burst into tears.]{.calibre5} ["Oh, dear," I say. "It looks like your phone got cracked."]{.calibre5} ["Shit." She runs her index finger over the screen as if she might magically fix it with her touch. She swears again and yanks her finger away. The glass has sliced right through the pad of her finger. "Just my luck, right?"]{.calibre5} ["Maybe it's a sign," I say. "Perhaps you should spend less time on your phone."]{.calibre5} [Paige laughs like I made a joke. She doesn't know me well enough to know that I don't make jokes.]{.calibre5} [Her smile is strained as I lead her to the door, and once she gets outside, the smile drops off her face altogether. I watch from the window as she makes her way back to her car, this time avoiding the treacherous loose brick. As soon as she slides into the driver's seat, she twists her body to look at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She touches the corner of her eye, frowning as she searches for the mascara I had assured her was caked in there.]{.calibre5} [She's having a bad day. But it's going to get much worse when she gets the email from me terminating her as my agent.]{.calibre5} [I turn away from the window and look down at the manila envelope that Paige left me. My book. Two years of blood, sweat, and tears.]{.calibre5} [I carefully lift the clasp and open the envelope. I pull the proof copy of my book from within. The corners of my lips twitch. The book is exactly the way I envisioned it. My name is in bold block letters: Adrienne Hale, MD, PhD. The publisher balked when I suggested the knife dripping with blood on the book cover, but after the success of my last book, I got to call the shots. They must realize now what a brilliant decision it was---how striking the image is. I trace the letters of the title as I read the words out loud:]{.calibre5} [The Anatomy of Fear.]{.calibre22} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} ::: []{#part0007.html} ::: {.calibre1} [ ]{.calibre6} {#part0007.html#calibre_pb_0.calibre14} ============== [ ]{.calibre6} {#section-4.calibre15} ============== ::: {#part0007.html#calibre_pb_1.calibre16} ::: [[Chapter 4]{.calibre6}]{#part0007.html#_Toc110840273.calibre11} {#part0007.html#calibre_pb_2.calibre14} ================================================================= [ ]{.calibre5} [TRICIA]{.calibre19} [ ]{.calibre5} [Present Day]{.calibre21} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [I don't have much hope for the kitchen. If this house hasn't been lived in during the three years Adrienne Hale has been missing, how can there be any food in the refrigerator? The best we can hope for is some stuff in cans that we can heat up. ]{.calibre5} [The refrigerator is at least twice the size of the tiny one we have stuffed into our kitchen at home. Everything here seems to be orders of magnitude larger than what we have back in the city. About ten copies of our kitchen could fit into this one kitchen. I wonder if Dr. Adrienne Hale was a skilled chef. She seems like the sort of woman who could whip up a gourmet meal.]{.calibre5} [Ethan throws open the refrigerator and peers inside. "Well, we can make ourselves sandwiches."]{.calibre5} ["Really?" I look over his shoulder into the fridge. There's a loaf of bread in there and a bunch of cold cuts. There's even a jar of mayonnaise. My stomach turns and I almost gag, thinking about how long that food has been sitting in there. "I'm not eating that. It probably expired years ago."]{.calibre5} [He picks up a packet of bologna. "Nope. It doesn't expire for another week. Judy must have bought it."]{.calibre5} [I try to imagine Judy purchasing a packet of bologna for one of the houses she is showing. I can't seem to do it. She's more of a caviar-and-smoked-salmon type of person. "Are you sure? Are you looking at the ]{.calibre5}[year]{.calibre22}[?"]{.calibre5} ["]{.calibre5}[Yes]{.calibre22}[. Here, look." ]{.calibre5} [He hands me the bologna. Sure enough, the date on it is from the current year, one week in the future. I open it up and sniff it, and it doesn't smell rancid. The color looks okay.]{.calibre5} ["I'll make us sandwiches," he says. ]{.calibre5} [Ethan lines up a loaf of bread, the bologna, and a jar of mayonnaise on the counter, and he gets to work making us sandwiches. He likes to cook for me. It's sweet. Not that I can't make a simple sandwich on my own, but it's romantic the way he enjoys pampering me. Yet another thing I've quickly learned to love about him.]{.calibre5} [I just hope he feels the same way about me after he finds out about my revelation. I feel ill every time I think about it. But I can't keep it from him much longer.]{.calibre5} ["Is there anything I can do?" I ask.]{.calibre5} ["Why don't you grab us something to drink?"]{.calibre5} [I can handle that. I walk to the other side of the kitchen to find a couple of glasses. I'll just fill them up with tap water---I'm sure it's fine. But when I get close to the sink, something makes me stop in my tracks.]{.calibre5} [It's a cup right by the sink. Half filled with water. The outside dripping with condensation.]{.calibre5} ["Ethan?" My voice sounds shaky.]{.calibre5} ["Yeah?"]{.calibre5} ["I..." I swallow as my eyes stay on the glass. "I think there's somebody else in this house."]{.calibre5} [His head snaps up from the sandwich preparation. He's got a slice of bologna clutched in his right hand. "What are you talking about?"]{.calibre5} ["There's a cup here." I back away for a minute, like the cup might reach out and strangle me. "Somebody filled it recently and was drinking from it."]{.calibre5} ["Probably Judy."]{.calibre5} [If he mentions Judy again, I'm going to punch him in the face. "It's not Judy's, okay? Judy would never leave half a glass of water on the kitchen counter like this. And if she did, there'd be lipstick all over the rim."]{.calibre5} [He can't argue with that. Judy's trademark is her bright red lipstick. She would never be able to drink from a glass without a little bit of it wiping off.]{.calibre5} ["And I saw that footprint on the floor," I remind him.]{.calibre5} ["That was probably Judy's," he says, even though it's preposterous. "Or mine."]{.calibre5} ["Also," I add, "we saw that light on upstairs when we were walking over here. Somebody is upstairs."]{.calibre5} [Ethan purses his lips. He looks over at the water glass across the kitchen, then up at the spiral staircase leading to the second floor. "I don't know, Tricia. If someone else were here, wouldn't they have come down and told us to get the hell out of their house?"]{.calibre5} [He has a good point. "Maybe they're not supposed to be here."]{.calibre5} [He doesn't disregard the possibility. Now his eyes are trained on the stairwell. "Okay. Suppose that's true. What should we do?"]{.calibre5} [I've still got my purse slung over my shoulder. I reach inside and pull out my phone. Still no signal. "I think we should check upstairs." Ethan looks like he's about to protest, so I quickly add, "we're stuck here for the night. Are ]{.calibre5}[you]{.calibre22}[ going to be able to sleep if you know a stranger is lurking around the house?"]{.calibre5} ["You're right," Ethan finally says. "I should go check it out. You stay here."]{.calibre5} ["No way." I shake my head vigorously. "I'm going with you. You're ]{.calibre5}[not]{.calibre22}[ leaving me alone down here."]{.calibre5} [Again, he seems like he's about to protest but then thinks better of it. He rubs his chin with his thumb for a moment, then reaches for something on the kitchen counter. It takes me a moment to realize that it's a block of knives. The long serrated blade Ethan pulls out glints in the overhead lights in the kitchen. "Should be prepared, right?"]{.calibre5} [I have no objection to him taking a knife. I'm tempted to grab one myself.]{.calibre5} [We walk together across the living room, past the portrait of Dr. Adrienne Hale. I'm quickly starting to despise that painting. This house is creepy enough without those green eyes following me around everywhere. It's a relief when we get to the staircase, away from her gaze.]{.calibre5} [At least, it's a relief until we start climbing. The stairs wind up for what feels like an eternity and the stairwell is very dark. The stairs are steep and each one creaks as our feet put weight on it---the sound echoes through the entire stairwell. I cling to the ornate wooden banister with one hand, and with the other, I reach out for my husband. When I find his arm, I grab on to it tightly. I can't believe he wants to ]{.calibre5}[live]{.calibre22}[ here. This place feels more like a haunted house we're forced to spend the night in to earn some sort of inheritance or something like that. ]{.calibre5} [The worst part is when we get to the landing for the second floor. Because it's obvious that the entire floor is completely dark.]{.calibre5} ["We saw a light on up here, right?" My eyes frantically dart between the doorways, each darker than the next. "I'm sure we did."]{.calibre5} ["Maybe it was the moonlight reflecting on the window..."]{.calibre5} [I glare at him in the dim light from the window. "So the moon somehow reflected on only ]{.calibre5}[one]{.calibre22}[ bedroom window?"]{.calibre5} ["I don't know what to tell you, Tricia. I don't see anyone up here. And all the lights are out."]{.calibre5} ["Shouldn't we check the rooms?"]{.calibre5} [He's quiet for a moment. I can't tell whether he's scared or annoyed. "Fine. Let's check the bedrooms."]{.calibre5} [Ethan flips on the light in the hallway, which is burned out except for one single bulb. But even that is enough to make the second floor a lot less scary. He keeps the knife down at his side as we open each room and turn on the light. According to the description on Judy's website, there are six bedrooms upstairs, and I'm not leaving here until we check every single one of them.]{.calibre5} [First bedroom---empty.]{.calibre5} [Same deal for the second, third, and fourth bedrooms. All of them are completely dark and quiet. When Ethan turns on the lights, nobody is lurking in the shadows. Each room is completely empty.]{.calibre5} ["I don't think there's anyone here, Tricia," he says as he closes the door of the fourth bedroom.]{.calibre5} ["Keep looking," I say through my teeth.]{.calibre5} [Fifth bedroom---empty. ]{.calibre5} [Now there's one last room left. All the bedrooms we have seen so far have been about the same size and rather impersonal looking. This leads me to suspect that the last bedroom must be the master bedroom. The place where Adrienne Hale slept every night in the months and years before her disappearance.]{.calibre5} [As we walk to the final door, I grab onto Ethan's arm. My heart is pounding so hard that it hurts my chest. ]{.calibre5} ["Tricia, your nails..." ]{.calibre5} [I ease up my grip ever so slightly. "Sorry." ]{.calibre5} [I'm probably still gouging him with my nails, but he lets me do it. He lowers the hand not clutching the knife onto the doorknob. And quietly, he twists the knob.]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} ::: []{#part0008.html} ::: {.calibre1} [ ]{.calibre6} {#part0008.html#calibre_pb_0.calibre14} ============== [ ]{.calibre6} {#section-5.calibre15} ============== ::: {#part0008.html#calibre_pb_1.calibre16} ::: [[Chapter 5]{.calibre6}]{#part0008.html#_Toc110840274.calibre11} {#part0008.html#calibre_pb_2.calibre14} ================================================================= [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} ["There's no one here," Ethan announces.]{.calibre5} [He flips the switch inside the last room, setting the space aglow. This room is significantly larger than all the others and looks like it's a master bedroom. There's a king-sized bed in the center of the room with an ornate wooden headboard. The bed is made up, and when I reach out a finger to touch the cream-colored bedspread with the red trim, it too has a thick layer of dust on it.]{.calibre5} ["Nobody." He taps open the bathroom door and peeks inside. "Not even hiding in the bathroom."]{.calibre5} ["I can see that."]{.calibre5} [He fiddles with the handle of the knife. "So are you satisfied? Or do you want me to check under the bed?"]{.calibre5} [I don't need him to check under the bed, but it wouldn't be a terrible idea to check the closet. I grab the shiny gold handle of a door near the bathroom and fling it open. It is, as I suspected, a walk-in closet. That's another luxury we don't have in our Manhattan apartment.]{.calibre5} [Rows of expensive-looking clothing line the expansive closet---I see tags from Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and Versace. And there's just a hint of a sweet-smelling perfume enclosed in the closet, like a tomb---Chanel, I think. I run my fingers over the fabric of a white sweater hanging in the closet---cashmere.]{.calibre5} [This more than anything is evidence that Dr. Adrienne Hale is dead. Because no woman would voluntarily leave here without taking this gorgeous sweater with her.]{.calibre5} ["Satisfied, Tricia?"]{.calibre5} [I pull my fingers away from the cashmere sweater. "I don't get it. Why was the light on?"]{.calibre5} ["Maybe it was a bulb that blew out?"]{.calibre5} [I shake my head. "It couldn't be. We turned on all the overhead lights and they all work perfectly."]{.calibre5} ["Maybe it was a lamp."]{.calibre5} [I shoot him a look.]{.calibre5} [Ethan throws up his hands. "I don't know what you want me to tell you. We checked every room. We've looked in the closet. ]{.calibre5}[There's nobody here]{.calibre22}[."]{.calibre5} [I can't argue with him. He's right that we have checked every room and looked as carefully as we can. If there's someone here, they don't want us to find them. Maybe it's better if we don't find them.]{.calibre5} ["Fine," I say. "Let's go have dinner."]{.calibre5} [Except if we sleep in one of the bedrooms tonight, I am definitely locking the door. And barricading it.]{.calibre5} [As we walk back down the spiraling stairs to the first floor, I don't feel much better about anything. In fact, I feel more anxious. I'm certain I saw the light on from outside the house, and the fact that none of those lights are on is deeply unsettling. I don't know why Ethan doesn't seem upset about it. Maybe he's just hiding it well.]{.calibre5} [After we get back downstairs, I notice a room off to the side with the door cracked open right by the stairwell. I tap on the door to push it the rest of the way open, and I gasp slightly. Ethan freezes in his steps.]{.calibre5} ["What's wrong?" he says.]{.calibre5} [I peer inside this new room. Like many of the rooms in the house, it's huge. And like the living room, the walls are lined with bookcases, all stuffed to the brim with books. I don't think I've ever seen this many books in my life. By the window in the corner is a large mahogany desk, with a leather chair behind it and a dusty desktop computer sitting on top. The final piece of furniture in the room is a large leather sofa. Dr. Adrienne Hale clearly loved leather furnishings.]{.calibre5} ["This must have been her office," I breathe.]{.calibre5} [Ethan glances around, an appreciative look on his face. "When we live here, I could use this room for ]{.calibre5}[my]{.calibre22}[ office."]{.calibre5} ["Uh..." I don't want to burst his bubble and tell him that at the moment, there's no way in hell I'm willing to consider living in this house. If only because I will forever be terrified that there is a stranger hidden in one of the dark recesses of the second floor. "Sure."]{.calibre5} ["I'd hardly have to change a thing." He presses a hand against the sofa, testing its integrity. "Well, I'd get rid of all the books. But other than that, it's perfect."]{.calibre5} ["Yes. Perfect." Over my dead body.]{.calibre5} [Ethan leans in to plant a kiss on my cheek. "I'm going to finish making our sandwiches. You can browse her library."]{.calibre5} [Before I have a chance to protest, Ethan has left to return to the kitchen. I want to follow him, but my legs feel frozen. This office. Even more than the rest of the house, it gives me the creeps.]{.calibre5} [This is where she worked. She was almost certainly in this room on the day she disappeared. Even more than the master bedroom, this room feels haunted by her presence.]{.calibre5} [I walk over to the mahogany desk. This room is dusty, but not as bad as the living room. There's just a thin layer of dust over the desk and the computer keys. I pluck a tissue out of a box she has on the desk and run it over the black computer monitor. Then I dust off the seat of the leather chair.]{.calibre5} [I settle down in the chair and it creaks threateningly under my weight. Is this where Dr. Hale wrote her bestselling pop psychology book, ]{.calibre5}[The Anatomy of Fear]{.calibre22}[? For a while, it seemed like everybody in the country had read that book. It was the It Book. And she never got to enjoy it because soon after it was released, she vanished into thin air. ]{.calibre5} [I study the contents of the desk. She's got a pencil holder in the shape of a human brain, loaded up with ballpoint pens. Her keyboard is one of those ergonomic ones, curved so that her hands could lie at a more natural position. And there's another object on the desk that gets my attention.]{.calibre5} [It's a tape recorder.]{.calibre5} [I haven't seen a tape recorder in many years. I vaguely remember my parents having one when I was a little girl, but that's it. It's an outdated piece of technology. I blow the dust off the recorder and pick it up, curious to see what Dr. Hale had been listening to before her disappearance.]{.calibre5} [But it's empty. Of course, the police would have taken whatever tape was inside as evidence.]{.calibre5} ["Tricia! Sandwiches are ready!"]{.calibre5} [Ethan's voice floats down the hallway into the office. I lower the tape recorder back onto the desk and leave the office to join him.]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} ::: []{#part0009.html} ::: {.calibre1} [ ]{.calibre6} {#part0009.html#calibre_pb_0.calibre14} ============== [ ]{.calibre6} {#section-6.calibre15} ============== ::: {#part0009.html#calibre_pb_1.calibre16} ::: [[Chapter 6]{.calibre6}]{#part0009.html#_Toc110840275.calibre11} {#part0009.html#calibre_pb_2.calibre14} ================================================================= [ ]{.calibre5} [ADRIENNE]{.calibre19} [ ]{.calibre5} [Before]{.calibre21} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [It is extremely rare for mental health workers to be killed by patients. ]{.calibre5} [It happens about once a year in this country. In most instances, the victims have been young female caseworkers. The homicides most frequently occurred while the victims were visiting residential treatment facilities. And the most likely perpetrators were males with schizophrenia. ]{.calibre5} [The majority of victims were killed by gunshot wounds.]{.calibre5} [Not that a psychiatrist who rarely sees inpatients is immune from such an attack. At any moment during a session, my patients could stand up, grab the letter opener off my desk, and jam it through my eye socket. But my risk is relatively low. Even though I see patients in my home, which people tell me is a mistake, I feel safe.]{.calibre5} [Also, I don't actually keep a letter opener on my desk. That would be tempting fate.]{.calibre5} [And I take one other precaution. Every single patient I accept for treatment is vetted by me personally. I refuse to accept any patients with whom I do not feel comfortable.]{.calibre5} [With one exception. But that will resolve itself soon enough.]{.calibre5} [Right now, my mind isn't on my patients as I sit at my computer, replying to messages via email. I'm currently composing a reply to a message I received yesterday from my former agent Paige.]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [Dear Adrienne,]{.calibre22} [I was shocked and saddened to hear that you wanted to work with another agent at the company for your next project. In addition to being an incredible writer, I have considered you one of my closest friends. I have worked extremely hard nurturing your talent these past years. Can you please let me know what I have done to offend you and I'll do whatever I can to make it right?]{.calibre22} [Your friend, ]{.calibre22} [Paige]{.calibre22} [ ]{.calibre22} [It takes all my self-restraint not to roll my eyes at Paige's email. She and I are not friends. Not even close. I am a trained psychiatrist and psychotherapist. Does she honestly believe that her insincere flattery and overfamiliarity will endear her to me? And how exactly has she ]{.calibre5}[nurtured]{.calibre22}[ my talent aside from taking fifteen percent of everything I've made?]{.calibre5} [But the best part of being a bestselling author is that I don't have to answer to people like Paige. I get to call the shots---and my contract is with the agency, not with Paige herself. So my reply to my former agent is extremely succinct.]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [Paige,]{.calibre22} [I'm afraid that I just don't feel that you are a good fit for me anymore. Best of luck to you.]{.calibre22} [Sincerely,]{.calibre22} [Adrienne Hale, MD, PhD]{.calibre22} [ ]{.calibre22} [As I hit "send" on the email, I wonder how Paige will respond. Will she accept that I don't want her to be my agent anymore and take the rejection gracefully, or will she haul her Audi back out to Westchester and beg on her knees for me to take her back? I suspect it will be the latter.]{.calibre5} [Human beings don't deal well with rejection. Back when our ancestors were hunters and gatherers, being ostracized from a tribe was akin to a death sentence. For that reason, rejection is experienced by human beings as being incredibly painful. Studies using functional MRI have shown the same areas of the brain become activated both during rejection and during real physical pain.]{.calibre5} [Some people deal with rejection better than others. Paige won't deal with it well. I can already see it unfold. But it doesn't matter. Once I make a decision, I never go back on it.]{.calibre5} [A new message pops up in my inbox. The sender is a woman named Susan Jamison---a name I am very familiar with. I click on the new message, already aware of what it is likely to say.]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [Dr. Hale,]{.calibre22} [I appreciate the work you have attempted to do with my son, but I don't feel like he's making any progress. As I told you two months earlier, I will no longer be paying for his sessions. I'm sorry he has not been reimbursing you himself out of his allowance, but I must reiterate that I will no longer be financing any of these therapy sessions. I'm sorry if you assumed otherwise.]{.calibre22} [Best,]{.calibre22} [Susan ]{.calibre22} [ ]{.calibre5} [I look away from the computer screen to the tape recorder sitting on my desk. Ever since I started holding therapy sessions in my home, I have been recording every single one of them. I ask all patients for permission prior to recording the sessions, although even when they tell me no, I still record them. ]{.calibre5} [I find the tape recordings of the therapy sessions to be extremely helpful. Yes, I could take notes as many therapists do, but those could be potentially inaccurate. Tape recordings don't lie. ]{.calibre5} [Right now, I use the tapes to refresh my memory, but I envision that someday, at the end of my career, I might listen to the tapes and write a memoir of my experiences. ]{.calibre5} [But not now. Not for decades. I have many, many years left in my career.]{.calibre5} [On the cassette case for each patient, I write the patient's initials, the number of the session, and the date. The case currently lying next to the tape recorder reads "EJ \#136" and then yesterday's date. ]{.calibre5} [EJ is Susan's son. She asked me to work with him about two years ago, stating that he had "no direction in life." Within one session, I had diagnosed EJ with narcissistic personality disorder---the characteristics of this diagnosis include a long-term pattern of exaggerated feelings of self-importance, cravings for admiration, and impaired empathy. ]{.calibre5} [I press play on the tape recorder and listen to the session from yesterday one more time: ]{.calibre5} ["How did your job interview go?"]{.calibre22} ["Oh, it went great. They loved me. I'm sure they'll be begging me to come work there. But honestly, I don't think I could do it. Everyone at the company seems so stupid. I don't think I could work in a place where I'm surrounded by stupidity all day."]{.calibre22} [The moment I first met this man, I immediately disliked him. But I had already met Susan and agreed to see her son. I considered telling her no, but I had given her my word. And I did believe that I could help him.]{.calibre5} [Unfortunately, I do not believe it any longer. I cannot help this man. He has no insight into his shortcomings and he never will. He has no desire to change. And now that his mother is no longer paying me, I have ample excuse to terminate our sessions.]{.calibre5} [I will never have to see him again.]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} ::: []{#part0010.html} ::: {.calibre1} [ ]{.calibre6} {#part0010.html#calibre_pb_0.calibre14} ============== [ ]{.calibre6} {#section-7.calibre15} ============== ::: {#part0010.html#calibre_pb_1.calibre16} ::: [[Chapter 7]{.calibre6}]{#part0010.html#_Toc110840276.calibre11} {#part0010.html#calibre_pb_2.calibre14} ================================================================= [ ]{.calibre5} [TRICIA]{.calibre19} [ ]{.calibre5} [Present Day]{.calibre21} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [A bologna sandwich on white bread with mayonnaise is not exactly the best dinner I've ever had in my life, but it fills me up and leaves me feeling only slightly nauseous. Ethan has highbrow taste when it comes to food and always manages to score a table at the trendiest new restaurants, but he demolishes the bologna sandwich without complaint.]{.calibre5} ["Do you feel better now that you've eaten?" he asks me.]{.calibre5} ["Yes," I lie. Eating a cold bologna sandwich hasn't made me forget that there could be a stranger lurking on the second floor of our house.]{.calibre5} ["Good." He grabs my hand across the table---mine is freezing but his is surprisingly warm. "Jesus, Tricia. You're ice cold!"]{.calibre5} [I don't know what he expects. It's well below freezing outside and there's no heat in this house. We're both still wearing our coats. "Yes..."]{.calibre5} ["I'll tell you what." He rises from his chair and automatically grabs both our plates off the table to clear it. His mother taught him well---too bad I never got to meet her. "Let me figure out the heat. If we've got electricity, I'll bet we can turn the heat on."]{.calibre5} ["That would be great." I grab the two cups of water from the table and follow him to the kitchen, doing my part as well. "You are the best husband ever."]{.calibre5} [Ethan's face lights up. He drops the plates on the kitchen counter and reaches for me. It's awkward since we both have our coats on, but I love how hot his breath is when he kisses me. "It's easy to be the best husband ever when I have the best wife ever."]{.calibre5} [Despite his good looks, Ethan was never much of a ladies\' man. The day we met at the coffee shop, I was the one who made the first move. He didn't have many girlfriends before me and doesn't have many friends. Some of my friends warned me it's a red flag, but I'm glad he didn't have a gazillion girlfriends before me or a best buddy to compete with. I always dreamed of being best friends with my husband. ]{.calibre5} [I hope he still feels that way after what I have to tell him this weekend. I have a terrible feeling that the conversation will not go well.]{.calibre5} [Like everything else in the house, the first-floor bathroom is tucked away and challenging to find. I finally locate it under the spiral staircase---it fills me with the vague concern that if somebody were on the stairs, they could potentially fall through the ceiling of the bathroom. But hopefully, the house is better made than that.]{.calibre5} [The bathroom is large but quaint. The bathtub has feet as well as a separate handle for hot and cold water. After I relieve myself, I run a wet piece of toilet paper along the vanity mirror over the sink, cleaning off the dust so that I can see my reflection clearly for the first time since we arrived at this house. ]{.calibre5} [Wow. I don't look so hot.]{.calibre5} [My hair is blond with honey highlights and waves courtesy of my curling iron, but right now, it's still damp and dark from the snow, and all the waves have been destroyed---strands are clinging to my skull and my cheeks. My lips are pale, almost blue, and my face is bone white. I grab a tube of lipstick from my purse and apply a healthy coat. There---that's a little better. I try pinching my cheeks to bring back a bit of color to my face, but it's just making me look blotchy so I stop.]{.calibre5} [Anyway, it's just me and Ethan here. Yes, I want to look my best for my husband, but we've been married for six months now. He understands I can't look absolutely perfect all the time. I mean, I'm sure he understands that. Even though he always looks frustratingly perfect.]{.calibre5} [When I emerge from the bathroom, I notice yet another bookcase tucked behind the stairwell. Geez, Dr. Adrienne Hale sure liked books. Most of the bookcases in the house seem to be related to psychiatry or psychology. All stuff about the human mind, anyway. But this bookcase is different. This one is filled with paperback novels---guilty pleasures.]{.calibre5} [I scan the rows of books, searching for something that might entertain me if we're stuck here for much longer. I try to imagine the psychiatrist with the intense green eyes curled up with a Danielle Steel novel---I can't do it. I'm not much of a romance fan either. But she has a few Stephen King novels that are more my speed. And they're long and engaging.]{.calibre5} [I've already read all the Stephen King books on her shelves, but I wouldn't mind rereading a few classics. And anyway, I won't be here long enough to finish it, so there's no point starting something new. First, I pick up the copy of ]{.calibre5}[It]{.calibre22}[, but I practically sprain my wrist getting it off the shelf---this one might be a bit long if we're only spending one night. Finally, I decide on ]{.calibre5}[The Shining]{.calibre22}[---one of my favorites---and I tip the book out to swipe it from the shelf.]{.calibre5} [Except it doesn't come out.]{.calibre5} [I pull harder on the book, but only the top of it comes free. The bottom seems wedged in place. And when I move the top of the book, I hear a loud click. And the bookcase shifts slightly.]{.calibre5} [What the...?]{.calibre5} [I glance over my shoulder. Ethan is nowhere in sight. He's probably still fiddling with the heat. I peer around the side of the bookcase---it's shifted away from the wall. I tug on the side of it, and a concealed door swings out towards me. I blink a few times, unable to believe what I'm seeing.]{.calibre5} [It's a secret room.]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} ::: []{#part0011.html} ::: {.calibre1} [ ]{.calibre6} {#part0011.html#calibre_pb_0.calibre14} ============== [ ]{.calibre6} {#section-8.calibre15} ============== ::: {#part0011.html#calibre_pb_1.calibre16} ::: [[Chapter 8]{.calibre6}]{#part0011.html#_Toc110840277.calibre11} {#part0011.html#calibre_pb_2.calibre14} ================================================================= [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [The room is completely dark inside, but it feels small. About the size of the walk-in closet upstairs. I squint into the dark space, trying to get my eyes to adjust. ]{.calibre5} [I take another step and something smacks me in the face. At first, I think it must be a spiderweb, but then I realize it's a cord. I feel around for a moment, trying to grab it. Then my finger makes contact. I tug on the cord and there's another click as a single bulb illuminates the room.]{.calibre5} [My eyeballs bulge as I take in the contents of the room.]{.calibre5} [I was right about the size of the room. It's about the same dimensions as a walk-in closet. Part of me had been scared I might find a dead body stashed in here, but no. The room is filled with more bookcases---wedged into every available space. But these bookcases don't contain books.]{.calibre5} [They are lined with cassette tapes.]{.calibre5} [There must be---God, I don't even know---]{.calibre5}[thousands]{.calibre22}[ of them. And each one is labeled the same way---a set of initials, followed by a number, followed by a date. The dates seem to go back almost ten years, and there are dozens of different initials. The row in front of me is labeled with the initials PL. Those were the same initials of the main subject featured in Dr. Hale's smash bestselling book, ]{.calibre5}[The Anatomy of Fear]{.calibre22}[---could it be the same person? Are these tapes PL's private sessions? ]{.calibre5} [And there's one tape that's labeled differently. It's stuck at the end of one of the rows and all it has is one word in big capital letters:]{.calibre5} [LUKE]{.calibre5} [The name jogs my memory slightly. ]{.calibre5}[Luke]{.calibre22}[. Was that the name of the boyfriend that they thought had killed Adrienne Hale? It was years ago that the whole thing was splashed all over the front page of every newspaper and on every single news channel. ]{.calibre5}[The disappearance of Dr. Adrienne Hale. ]{.calibre22} [I wonder if the police knew about this hidden room.]{.calibre5} [Vaguely, I hear Ethan calling my name. He's probably got the heater going. I'm sure he's wondering why it's taking me so long in the bathroom. I don't have a reputation for being ]{.calibre5}[quick]{.calibre22}[ in the bathroom, but this is slow, even for me.]{.calibre5} ["Just a minute!" I yell.]{.calibre5} [Impulsively, I grab one of the many PL tapes from one of the shelves and stuff it into my coat pocket. Then I yank on the cord hanging from the ceiling and the room is plunged back into darkness. I step out of the room and as I shove the bookcase back into place, I hear a reassuring click. When I step back now, I can't tell the hidden room is even there.]{.calibre5} [I hurry back into the living room, where Ethan is standing in front of the sofa. He's grinning ear to ear, and he's got a bottle of wine dangling from his right hand. "I got the heat going!"]{.calibre5} [I shiver. "It's still freezing in here."]{.calibre5} ["Well, it's going to take a little time to heat such a gigantic space." He nods pointedly at the massive living area. I'd like to point out to him that if we moved in here, our heating bills would be astronomical, but Ethan's got enough family money that he doesn't worry about that sort of stuff. "Did you find the bathroom all right?"]{.calibre5} ["Yes." ]{.calibre5} [I shove my right hand into my deep coat pocket and feel the rectangular shape of the cassette tape I stole from the hidden room. This would be the time to tell him about my discovery. There's no reason not to tell him. ]{.calibre5} [But he won't want me listening to these tapes. He'll tell me it's none of my business---he always complains I'm a huge busybody. I'm not a busybody though---I just have a natural sense of ]{.calibre5}[curiosity]{.calibre22}[. Is there anything so wrong with that? ]{.calibre5} [One thing I'm sure of though---Ethan will stop me from listening to these tapes if he finds out they exist.]{.calibre5} ["And look!" Ethan holds up the bottle of blood-colored wine. "I found something to warm us up in the meantime."]{.calibre5} ["Oh?"]{.calibre5} [He lowers the bottle to read the label. "It's a Cabernet Sauvignon. It's from... Stellenbosch, South Africa."]{.calibre5} ["A wine from South Africa?"]{.calibre5} ["Oh yeah. There are a lot of good Cabernets from South Africa."]{.calibre5} [Ethan would know. He's something of a wine expert. He can always tell you what regions are the best for what kinds of wine, what sweet or acidic notes to look for in the wine, and what food pairs best with it. Most of the time, I'm just nodding and pretending to know what he's talking about.]{.calibre5} ["So," I say, "you stole a bottle of wine?"]{.calibre5} ["It's not ]{.calibre5}[great]{.calibre22}[ wine," he says defensively. I don't know if that's true, although Ethan isn't willing to drink anything cheap so it must be at least something decent. His favorite wine is Cheval Blanc. "And anyway, it's Judy's fault for inviting us here in the middle of a blizzard and not even showing up herself. We need something to entertain ourselves."]{.calibre5} ["I'm sure Judy didn't realize there was going to be a blizzard," I say, but it's too late. Ethan is already pouring the wine into two glasses he set up on the coffee table in front of the fireplace.]{.calibre5} [Ethan sits down on the sectional sofa, and I sit down beside him. He picks up one of the wine glasses, filled almost to the brim with dark red liquid, and I reluctantly do the same. He tilts his glass towards mine.]{.calibre5} ["To our new home," he says.]{.calibre5} [Oh God. ]{.calibre5} [Ethan takes a long sip from his wine glass while I contemplate what to do with mine. I can't drink this. Perhaps a sip or two, but not this entire huge glass of wine or anything close to that. And I can't tell Ethan why because he doesn't know that I'm pregnant.]{.calibre5} [That's right. I'm knocked up.]{.calibre5} [It's been two weeks since I missed my period. Just a little over a week since I peed on a stick and those two pink lines appeared that would change our entire lives. ]{.calibre5} [I'm terrified to tell him my little secret. Before we got married, we both decided we wanted children. I have a sister, but Ethan is an only child and his parents have passed on, so we were both on board with the idea of having a family of our own. But---we agreed---no children in the near future. We're relatively young, and we wanted a chance to travel together, to enjoy each other for a couple of years before we brought a baby into the mix. Two years minimum before we even ]{.calibre5}[start]{.calibre22}[ trying---that's what we decided. ]{.calibre5} [Now here I am, six short months after our wedding. A baby on the way.]{.calibre5} [It wasn't my fault. I take my birth control pills religiously. I have a timer set to go off on my phone so I don't forget to take it. But I had a respiratory infection last month and I took some antibiotics for it that they gave me at urgent care. And apparently, that made my birth control pills stop working. Who knew?]{.calibre5} [I am absolutely terrified to tell Ethan. Waiting to have children was something he felt strongly about. He wanted us to have this time to ourselves. I have effectively ruined all of his plans. And I'm not sure how he's going to take it. Not well, I assume.]{.calibre5} [Ethan has a temper. He has never unleashed it on me, but I have observed it in action. He is the CEO of a small startup company that is taking off, and I overheard him once on the phone after one of his employees had screwed something up. My jaw was hanging open at the way he shouted at that poor man on the phone. I had no idea he had it in him. It was a worrying reminder of the fact that I've only known my husband for a little over a year. I don't know yet exactly what he's like. ]{.calibre5} [So I've been carrying around this secret for the last week and a half. I have to tell him soon, but I'm dreading it with every fiber of my being. I don't want him to scream at me like he did at that man on the phone. That will be the official end of our honeymoon.]{.calibre5} [I wonder if now is the right time. When he's just successfully gotten the heat working, he is excited about the prospect of purchasing this house (even though there's no way we will actually live here), and he's got a glass of wine in his hand. And he's watching me expectantly, to see what I think of the wine. ]{.calibre5} [I should tell him now. It makes sense.]{.calibre5} [But I don't.]{.calibre5} [Instead, I tip the glass of Cabernet back and let it just barely moisten my tongue. Then I lick my lips. "Mmm. Delicious."]{.calibre5} ["Can you taste the menthol note?"]{.calibre5} ["I... can." ]{.calibre5} [Ethan takes another long gulp from his wine glass while I take another pretend sip from mine. He reaches for my hand and I let him take it. "This is nice," he sighs.]{.calibre5} ["Mmm."]{.calibre5} ["I can just imagine us living here." He squeezes my hand as his blue eyes become distant. "The two of us enjoying a bottle of wine together---a ]{.calibre5}[good]{.calibre22}[ wine---while the fireplace is raging and keeping us warm."]{.calibre5} ["And a few kids toddling around," I add, watching his reaction.]{.calibre5} [He laughs. "Maybe in a few years." ]{.calibre5} [Well, at least he didn't ]{.calibre5}[completely]{.calibre22}[ freak out at the idea of it. I guess it was too much to hope for that I would mention children, and he would immediately say, ]{.calibre5}[Yes! I totally changed my mind! Let's get you pregnant right now! ]{.calibre22} [He scoots closer to me and throws an arm around my shoulders, drawing me closer to him. It gives me an excuse to lower my wine glass onto the coffee table. It really is nice and cozy, snuggled up with him on the couch. Maybe this house isn't so bad. He seems to love it. And if we decide to live here, it will soften the blow of my surprise pregnancy.]{.calibre5} [But then my eyes lift over the mantle. To the portrait of Dr. Adrienne Hale. It feels like she's staring down at us with those piercing green eyes, her hair a raging fire around her face. I let out a shudder.]{.calibre5} ["Still cold?" Ethan murmurs into my hair.]{.calibre5} ["No..."]{.calibre5} [He follows my gaze to the portrait hanging on the wall. His eyes darken the way they did when he first saw it. I smile sheepishly. "Sorry, it's just giving me the creeps."]{.calibre5} ["Yeah, I hate it too." A muscle twitches in his jaw. "Let me take care of it."]{.calibre5} ["What?"]{.calibre5} [Before I can ask him what he's doing, Ethan has leaped off the couch and is walking purposefully over to the fireplace. He grabs the heavy wooden frame of the portrait and works it loose from the wall. He lowers the painting to the floor, and after a moment of hesitation, he lays it against the wall, facing away from us.]{.calibre5} ["Ethan." I squeeze my hands together, which are suddenly sweaty. "You can't do that."]{.calibre5} ["Why not? I'll put it back before we leave. It's not like ]{.calibre5}[she's]{.calibre22}[ going to care."]{.calibre5} [I stare at the space over the mantle, unable to articulate the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Here we are, spending the evening in Dr. Adrienne Hale's house, drinking her wine, and now messing with her portrait on the wall. ]{.calibre5}[And]{.calibre22}[ I swiped one of the tapes from her secret room. I don't believe in ghosts, but if I did, her ghost would be ]{.calibre5}[pissed]{.calibre22}[ right now.]{.calibre5} [But Ethan doesn't seem bothered by it anymore, now that he's taken the picture down and it's turned away from us. He sits down beside me again on the sofa and tugs at the top button of my wool coat. "Think it's warm enough to take this off?"]{.calibre5} [It has warmed up considerably in the last half hour. I let him undo the buttons on my coat, and after he does that, he kisses my neck. Usually, that's my sweet spot---I go wild. But right now, I feel nothing.]{.calibre5} ["We should christen our new house," he murmurs into my neck.]{.calibre5} [I kiss him back, trying to muster up some enthusiasm as he fumbles with the button on my jeans. But I can't seem to enjoy it like I usually do. Even with the portrait turned around, I still feel Dr. Hale's green eyes boring into me.]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} ::: []{#part0012.html} ::: {.calibre1} [ ]{.calibre6} {#part0012.html#calibre_pb_0.calibre14} ============== [ ]{.calibre6} {#section-9.calibre15} ============== ::: {#part0012.html#calibre_pb_1.calibre16} ::: [[Chapter 9]{.calibre6}]{#part0012.html#_Toc110840278.calibre11} {#part0012.html#calibre_pb_2.calibre14} ================================================================= [ ]{.calibre5} [ ]{.calibre5} [Well, we do manage to christen the house. It might not be our new house, but we christened ]{.calibre5}[somebody's]{.calibre22}[ house.]{.calibre5} [Ethan is in a predictably good mood when we're finished. No matter how many times we've had sex, he still acts like it's the greatest thing in the world and he can't believe he got to score with me. It's sweet. He's a sweet guy. My friends were totally wrong about all the red flags. He's not perfect, but who is?]{.calibre5} [Maybe this is the right time to tell him about the baby. He's in a great mood, he's excited about the house---how can there possibly be a better time?]{.calibre5} ["You're quiet," he notes as he zips up his khaki pants.]{.calibre5} ["Am I?"]{.calibre5} ["Yeah. You look pensive."]{.calibre5} [My lips twitch. "Pensive?"]{.calibre5} ["Like you have something on your mind."]{.calibre5} [This is the time. I could tell him. Maybe he'll be fine with it. He wants kids ]{.calibre5}[eventually]{.calibre22}[. No, this isn't quite the schedule we planned. But babies happen. You can't control it.]{.calibre5} [I open my mouth, ready to say the words. ]{.calibre5}[I'm pregnant, Ethan.]{.calibre22}[ But they don't come out. And I'm not sure why.]{.calibre5} [Maybe I'm reluctant to give him some surprising and possibly upsetting news when we're stuck in an isolated house, just the two of us, where nobody can hear us and there's no way to leave.]{.calibre5} [I blink, startled by my thoughts. That last one made no sense at all---it must be some sort of crazy pregnancy hormone paranoia. Yes, I'm worried Ethan won't be thrilled about my news, and yes, he has a temper. But he would ]{.calibre5}[never]{.calibre22}[ hurt me. I know that for a fact.]{.calibre5} ["I don't have anything on my mind," I say finally. "Just a little tired." I grin at him. "You wore me out."]{.calibre5} [Ethan beams, proud of himself. He stretches so that I can see some golden blond hairs on his belly. My husband is so handsome. When I first saw him, I thought he was the most perfect-looking man I had ever seen. I figured after I had known him and dated him for a while, I would notice more and more imperfections. And I have identified a few of them. His eyes are too close together. He's a bit on the short side for a man. Those curly golden hairs are not just on his chest, but also on his back. ]{.calibre5} [But weirdly, all those imperfections make him even more handsome. I can't explain it.]{.calibre5} ["Would it bother you if I took a shower?" he asks.]{.calibre5} ["A shower?"]{.calibre5} ["Sure. The hot water seems to be running." He winks. "And I've worked up quite a sweat."]{.calibre5} ["Yeah, but..." I don't want to articulate how uncomfortable the idea of him going in the shower here makes me. "You don't have a change of clothing."]{.calibre5} ["It would still be good to get clean."]{.calibre5} [I wrack my brain, trying to think of a good reason he shouldn't take a shower. I can't think of anything logical. "Are you going to use the master bathroom?"]{.calibre5} ["I was planning to."]{.calibre5} ["Doesn't it make you uncomfortable though? I mean, the last person who used that bathroom is a dead woman."]{.calibre5} [He shrugs. "I guess I don't care that much. I mean, that shrink woman disappeared like three years ago. It's not like she used the bathroom yesterday."]{.calibre5} [It's pregnancy hormones. I'm sure that's what's making me so uncomfortable about this. There's no reason Ethan shouldn't take a shower in the master bathroom. "Fine. I'm going to stay down here."]{.calibre5} ["Sure. Finish your wine."]{.calibre5} [Right. That reminds me, I have to pour the rest of my wine down the sink so he thinks I drank it.]{.calibre5} [It's only when I'm watching Ethan disappear up the spiral staircase that I remember the tape I stashed in the pocket of my coat. When I was in the office, I found that tape recorder, but there were no tapes to play in it. Now I've found the motherlode. Ethan surely wouldn't want me to listen to the tapes, but if he's going to be busy in the shower, I can do what I want.]{.calibre5} [As soon as the shower starts running upstairs, I retrieve the tape from the pocket of my coat and return to Adrienne Hale's office. The tape recorder is right where I left it---on that beautiful mahogany desk. I sit down in the leather chair and examine the buttons on the dusty tape recorder. ]{.calibre5}[Record, Play, Rewind, Fast forward, Stop/Eject, and Pause.]{.calibre22} [Tentatively, I press the Stop/Eject button. The tape deck pops open. ]{.calibre5} [I blow some of the dust off the tape recorder, then I pick up the tape I found in the hidden room. The initials on it are PL. Next to that, it says \#2. And the date is from about six years ago. I remove the tape from the case and shake it out, then slide it into the tape deck. With one quick movement, I push the tape deck closed. ]{.calibre5} [I'm not sure if the batteries in the tape recorder are functional. There's a chance that the Eject function is spring-loaded or something like that. How long do batteries last if you're not using them? Ethan would probably know the answer to that. But he wouldn't want me listening to these tapes, so I can't ask.]{.calibre5} [I push my index finger against the rewind button. Instantly, I hear a whirring noise as the tape goes back to the beginning. Looks like the battery still works.]{.calibre5} [After about a minute, there's

Never Lie: A Novel by Freida McFadden PDF

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