If Claudia were here, she would tell me what to do.
I get a deep ache in my chest as I think about my big sister. I can’t believe I’m never going to see her again. She’s the only reason I’m even considering going back. She always knows what to do. After our parents died, she put her arm around me at the funeral and said, Don’t worry, Quinn. I’ll take care of you.
And she did. She left college and won guardianship of me. We had little family, and if she hadn’t stepped in, I would have had to go live with some distant relatives I had never met. Or lived in foster care. I owe Claudia everything.
We used to talk about Derek a lot. I would tell her carefully edited versions of some things he said to me. I was careful not to tell her about the bruises he left behind when he grabbed my arm or the times he pulled my hair. Even with the washed down version, she was furious. She told me I should leave him. But she didn’t get it. Derek wasn’t just rich—he was powerful. If I left him, he would make sure I never worked in banking ever again. He told me I would spend the rest of my life penniless and miserable. Although some days, that felt better than the alternative.
And of course, after one of our huge fights, Derek would always fall over himself to apologize. There would be flowers, expensive jewelry, maybe a dinner out at a nice restaurant. He would be nice for weeks until I forgot the fight and remembered the man I had fallen in love with. So I stayed.
When I was younger, before I met Derek, I would hear stories about women stuck in abusive relationships. I never understood why any of them stayed. I thought they were foolish or weak. It never made sense to me until it became my life.
Over the sound of the engine and the wind and rain outside, I hear another noise. It takes me a second to make it out. But when I do, my stomach sinks.
It’s a siren.
Chapter 6
There’s a police car in my rearview mirror, flashing its lights. There are no other cars on the road. The police officer wants me to stop.
Oh no. Have they discovered the body already?
Maybe Scotty Dwyer didn’t believe my story as much as I thought he did. Maybe after another hour, he went back to our house. He would have noticed the windows were dark inside. And then what? Would he have busted down the door to see what was inside? That seems extreme.
But he could have discovered the key we always keep under the potted plant by the back door. Scott is smart enough to check the obvious places.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel until my knuckles go white. I wish Scott had insisted on looking around. He would have discovered the body, and I could have told him everything that happened. Scott was so kind to me when we were younger—he would have believed me. He would have known I’m not a murderer.
But it’s worse now. I fled the scene of the crime. The more distance I put between myself and Derek’s body, the more guilty I look.
There’s no chance of a high-speed chase right now. I pull over to the side of the road as carefully as I can. The police car pulls over behind me. I sit there for a moment, my heart pounding so hard, it hurts. I might have a heart attack right now. I almost hope I do. It would be easier than dealing with what’s going to happen next.
The police officer takes his sweet time getting out of the vehicle. I had been hoping it might be Scott, but it isn’t. It’s somebody I don’t know. He’s a large man with a shaved head, dressed in a dark uniform, and he’s got an umbrella in his right hand as he makes his way to my car. Somehow, the umbrella makes him seem a little less scary.
Until he raps hard on the window of my car.
I roll down the window. Immediately, bits of icy rain smack me in the face. I do my best to smile, even though I am about to pee in my pants.
“Hi, Officer,” I say. “Um, everything okay?”
In the shadows, I can just barely make out the lines in his face. “I wouldn’t have stopped you if it were, would I? Let’s see your license, Miss.”
My hands are shaking as I reach for my purse. It takes me two tries to get my wallet open and slide out my driver’s license. I almost drop it as I try to hand it to him.
“Quinn Alexander.” He reads my name off my license, then looks up to match the picture with my face. “A bit of a way from home, aren’t you?”
I shrug. “I’m, uh… visiting some friends.”
“I see. Awfully bad weather for a road trip.”
“Yeah, kind of.” I swallow a hard lump in my throat. “Look, Officer, I couldn’t have been speeding. I’ve been going well under the speed limit.”