The Midnight Wife

by L. G. Davis

  “I hated him for leaving,” she says. “I was so angry that I wished all kinds of terrible things to happen to him, but this...” Her voice trails off. “I didn’t want him to die. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

  “I can’t believe it. I didn’t even know he was back in town.” Jared rests a hand on her back. “Did the police give any details?”

  Rachel pulls a crumpled tissue from the pocket of her skirt and blows her nose loudly. “A fisherman found him in the lake. The cops say it looks like he has been dead for some time. They want me to go and identify the body. I don’t know – I don’t know if I can do it alone.”

  “You don’t have to,” Jared says. “I’ll go with you. He was my friend.”

  As I listen to their conversation, my mind is racing, thoughts scattering in all directions as I try to understand what happened.

  I don’t get a chance to find out more because not long after Jared offers to accompany Rachel, they leave the house.

  As I watch the car disappear down the street, the words Jared whispered into my ear before walking out the door taunt me.

  “If I find you gone,” he said, “I’m calling the cops.”

  He doesn’t have to worry about me leaving. I’m too drained to even move.

  My mind is clouded as I return to the living room and sit with my hands between my knees, staring into space.

  Victor was a terrible man and he probably got what he deserved, but something makes me uneasy about the whole thing. Rachel mentioned that he’s been dead for a while before he was found. If it’s true, how was he able to send me a text today?

  Chapter 16

  A week after Victor’s body is found, he’s given a hero’s funeral.

  As I stand next to Jared and Rachel underneath the shade of a sycamore tree, I’m finding it hard to breathe. Among the guests are a few cops who knew Victor. Their presence makes me nervous for obvious reasons.

  The fact that Victor has been dead for days has been tormenting me every day as I tried to figure out how a dead man could contact me.

  I tried getting more information out of Jared, but he has barely spoken to me since the day he received the news. On one hand, I’m relieved that his attention is no longer on me, at least for now, but on the other hand, I hate being in limbo.

  He’s such an unpredictable man, just because he hasn’t called the cops on me doesn’t mean he won’t. Maybe his silence is also his way of punishing me.

  He does speak to me, but only when he has to, especially during the preparations for Victor’s funeral, which he decided to take on because Rachel was too devastated to make any decisions whatsoever. As Jared’s wife, the chore of planning the funeral also fell on my shoulders.

  I have gone through a lot of discomfort in my life, but being involved in the funeral arrangements of the man who destroyed my life was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

  I do my best to keep it together. I need to get through the funeral, then I’ll figure everything out.

  After Victor’s body is lowered into the ground, everybody gathers around Rachel, offering her hugs and words of comfort. The woman who had already been so fragile when I met her is now nothing but a shadow of her former self. Her eyes have sunken a little too much into her skull and her blonde hair is hanging limp from underneath the black hat she’s wearing.

  As I watch her, I can’t help wondering how she would react if she knew who her husband really was and what he did to me. Would she still grieve him as much as she is now?

  I wait until most people have had their chance to offer her their condolences before approaching her. I open my arms to give her a hug. Holding her, I feel as uncomfortable as I did the night we found out about Victor.

  “I’m so sorry, Rachel,” I say when we part. I don’t know how many times I have said the words to her in the past days.

  “Thank you, Kelsey,” she says, blinking away tears. “And thank you for helping with all the arrangements.”

  I wave a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. It was Jared who did most of the work.” I pause. “If there’s anything else I can do, let me know.”

  “No.” She shakes her head, her greasy hair swinging from side to side. “I have to learn to stand on my own two feet.”

  Jared joins us and also hugs Rachel, whispering words of comfort into her ears.

  “I can’t believe he’s not coming back,” she says loud enough for me to hear.

  “I know,” he says, rubbing her back. “But we’re here for you. Whatever you need.”

  “You’re a good man, Jared.” She glances at me. “A good man with a perfect wife.”

  I cringe inwardly and pretend I didn’t hear her words.

  After leaving the cemetery, some of Victor’s closest friends come to our house for a short lunch. I’d offered to cook the food, but Jared insisted on having it catered.

  As I sit in my living room, I feel like a stranger in my own home, and I can’t shake the feeling that everyone is staring at my stomach. Can they see that I’m pregnant? What if Jared told his friends that he had a vasectomy done? If he did, they would know for sure that I’m carrying someone else’s baby. They would think I cheated on him.

  My stomach is still pretty small compared to many pregnant women over the two-month mark, but I still feel self-conscious, especially knowing that the baby I’m carrying is Victor’s.

  Once everyone is seated with canapés and drinks, stories of what a great man Victor was are shared. Unable to listen to them, I get up to find a quiet place to catch my breath.

  I retreat to our bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed with my hands in my lap. The breeze coming from the window makes me shiver even though it’s a warm day.

  Victor is gone, but it doesn’t feel over. I’m still aware of his poisonous presence around me. The worst thing is that he will always be with me. For the rest of my life, I will see him in the face of my child.

  Sometimes I wonder whether I’m making the right decision choosing to keep his child, but a few searches online assured me that I’m not the first woman to raise a rapist’s child. I read stories of women who learned to love their children as they would have done if they were conceived through a loving relationship. I haven’t come to the place where I love my child yet, but I will try. I’ll have to take it one day at a time.

  I don’t stay too long in the bedroom. I wouldn’t want Jared to come looking for me. When my heartrate slows down, I smooth down the black maxi dress I’m wearing and return to the guests.

  As soon as I enter the room, all eyes turn to me. The stares follow me as I cross the room to sit in the only empty chair by the window. Were they talking about me?

  When Jared throws me a disapproving look, I realize that maybe it was disrespectful of me to leave the room when everybody was paying tribute to Victor. It must have been so easy to notice the empty chair.

  To my relief, conversations start again until all the food is gone. I help Jared take the dishes to the kitchen.

  The doorbell rings when I’m exiting the kitchen. I open the door to find Officer Smith standing on our doorstep in his full uniform.

  Fear sweeps through me and I force myself to stay calm. “Good afternoon, officer,” I say as casually as I can manage.

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Bloom.”

  “Call me Kelsey.” I force a smile. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I came to extend my condolences to Victor Hanes’s wife. I was told I’ll find her here. May I come in?”

  “Yes. Please come in.” I open the door wider.

  “Thank you.” He follows me into the living room and just as everyone had stared at me when I entered the room earlier, they stare at him. But this time, there are questions in their eyes.

  He ignores the stares and shakes Rachel’s hand, muttering a few words to her before walking toward the chair I had occupied.

  “Do you know anything, officer?” Linda asks before the man even has a chance to sit. “Do you know
exactly what happened to Victor?”

  He glances briefly at Rachel as though he’s not sure whether she will be able to handle whatever he’s about to say.

  “What happened to my husband?” she asks. Her voice breaks down with each word.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to speak in private?” the officer asks.

  “These people are my friends,” Rachel says, glancing from one face to the other. “And they knew and loved Victor. They deserve to know.”

  The officer clears his throat. “There have been some new developments. As I’m sure most of you already know, Victor had been dead for days before he was found.” He accepts a glass of lemonade from Jared. “It was revealed that he must’ve been killed before being put into the water.”

  There are several gasps. The room goes quiet only for the silence to be shattered by Rachel’s crying.

  I remain in the doorway, reeling after what I heard.

  “Who did it?” Connie asks. “Who killed him?”

  “Unfortunately, we don’t know that yet. But we will find out.”

  “Are you saying that Victor didn’t drown?” an old man with a hunched back asks.

  “That’s how it looks at this point. His death is definitely being treated as suspicious.”

  “How do they know that he was murdered?” Jared asks. His face has gone pale.

  “It was clear from the autopsy report that he was hit over the head with a hard object. At first, we thought he must have hit a rock in the lake, but there are obvious signs of foul play.”

  “Oh, my God.” Rachel gets to her feet, clutching her stomach. “I’m going to be sick.”

  I jump into action right away, showing her to the bathroom, but a hammer is pounding inside my head, the pain blinding me.

  I stay with Rachel in the bathroom until she’s done throwing up, then I usher her back into the living room.

  Everyone gathers around her again, comforting her. While she’s sobbing, Jared speaks softly with the officer.

  “This is horrible.” Connie brings a hand to her mouth as though she’s also about to be sick. “Who would do such a thing? Who would kill poor Victor?”

  “It’s our job to find that out.” The officer brings his lemonade to his lips and takes a huge gulp. “We will do everything it takes to find the person responsible.”

  “How long?” Rachel asks, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “How long had he been dead before he was found?”

  “They think it’s been several weeks already. It’s highly possible that Victor never left town at all.”

  Later, after everyone leaves, I lie next to Jared, the weight of guilt pressing down on my chest. Like me, he’s staring at the ceiling.

  Two things torture me.

  If Victor died several weeks ago and he never left town, there’s a chance I might be responsible for his death. I struck him that night, but I can’t remember how hard.

  And if he died weeks ago, who has been stalking me this whole time? Who was pretending to be him?

  Chapter 17

  I lift my avocado, pear, and spinach smoothie to my lips.

  The silence is unbearable.

  Jared is sitting across from me, reading the local paper, avoiding my gaze.

  I wait until he drops the paper to the table before reaching for it. I’ve been obsessed with following the news about Victor’s death, terrified that the investigation will lead to me.

  While Jared stares out the window, I scan the page dedicated to the murder, searching for clues. I find nothing new.

  It’s been five days since the funeral and the investigation is still ongoing. The local police have urged locals to come forward with any information that could help the investigation move along. According to the article, no one has come forward yet.

  The autopsy results have finally revealed that it’s likely that the day Victor disappeared was also the day he died.

  I could be his killer. It was self-defense, but no one knows that. The mistake I made was never going to the cops after the rape.

  It’s too late now. If I go to the cops, they will throw me in jail, especially since I was already sent to prison for another murder.

  I force my hand not to shake as I lower the newspaper to the table.

  “I’m going to see Dr. Whitmore today at twelve,” I say to Jared, my fingers crossed under the table. “She’s my gynecologist.”

  I’ve made three appointments already, canceling the first two because I was not yet ready to face my reality. But I can’t hide any longer. It’s my duty as a mother to find out if the baby is healthy.

  I’m uncomfortable telling Jared about my appointment, especially after almost two weeks of not talking about the pregnancy, but since he wants to know everything I’m up to, I have no choice.

  I still have no idea where he stands. What hurts the most is that he never showed any compassion when I told him I was raped.

  He picks up his cup of coffee and drinks it in silence. When he’s done, he gets up from the table and walks to the door. Only then does he turn to face me, his face tight.

  “Does that mean you want to give birth to a rapist’s child?”

  As I struggle for something to say, he walks out of the room. Not long after, the front door slams shut and I breathe out. Every time he’s not around, relief radiates through me. Alone in the house, I won’t have to walk on eggshells.

  I leave the kitchen and go to the living room window, where I watch his car peeling away from the driveway. Once it disappears into the distance, I drop into an armchair and grip the armrests so tight that one of my nails breaks. I don’t care. I used to keep a perfect manicure because that’s what Jared wanted. These days, he doesn’t seem to care much. Aside from the day of the funeral when he gave me the dress I should wear, I now pick out my own outfits.

  After sitting in the armchair for almost an hour, expecting every second for the police to ring the doorbell, I go on the search for the cleaning equipment. I’m glad I haven’t thoroughly cleaned the house for a while. I need the therapy.

  I spend a large part of the morning cleaning every corner, tossing the laundry into the washing machine, and making sure that everything is neat and tidy. Even though the house is pristine, my emotions are still in turmoil.

  I’m not only afraid of the cops. I’m afraid of the person who pretended to be Victor, the person who had been stalking me for weeks. Since that day in the motel, I haven’t received another message, which makes me even more confused.

  Am I still in danger?

  With nothing else left to clean or tidy up, I jump into the shower and stand under the stream of cold water for longer than normal. As the water cascades over my body, I place both hands on my stomach. For the first time, I notice how much it’s grown. It’s real. There’s a baby inside me.

  I’m still terrified to give birth to a child when I’m too broken to be a mother, but there’s no going back.

  I squeeze coconut-scented shower gel into the palm of my hand and massage my belly with it, my eyes closed as I try to connect with a baby I did not plan on bringing into the world.

  After the shower, I only have twenty minutes left before my appointment. I get dressed as fast as I can in a skirt with an elastic band and a wide T-shirt.

  When I get into my car, the hairs on my neck rise. I sense that I’m being watched before I see Rachel standing at her window, staring straight at me. I don’t know whether she sees me. When I wave, she doesn’t wave back.

  I arrive at Dr. Whitmore’s office five minutes before my appointment to find several people in the waiting room.

  The receptionist asks me why I came in. I whisper that I’m pregnant and came for my first checkup. I’m still uncomfortable about saying it out loud.

  When I take a seat, someone taps me on the shoulder. It’s Mary Jane, a woman who works at the Green Grocer’s. She’s at least six months pregnant. I don’t know her well, but she’s always been kind to me when I do my shopping. But when I
greet her, warmth floods my cheeks. I was hoping not to run into anybody I know.

  “I didn’t know you were pregnant,” she says, closing a magazine she had been reading. “How exciting.”

  “I—it’s just my yearly checkup.” I don’t know why I’m lying, but the words pour out before I can stop them. After lying for so long, I have become an expert.

  “Are you sure about that?” She leans closer. “I thought I heard you tell the receptionist that you’re here for your first pregnancy checkup. I must have heard wrong.”

  I hesitate before responding. Telling people I’m pregnant without Jared knowing I’m doing it makes me uneasy. I don’t think he’ll like it.

  “Well, that’s a shame.” Mary Jane sweeps her thick bangs from her eyes. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the doctor discovers you’re actually pregnant? Many women are pregnant without even knowing it.”

  “That would be a surprise,” I say and decide to change the subject. “How’s your baby doing?”

  “My little man is perfect.” She strokes her belly proudly.

  Perfect. The word makes me feel queasy.

  “That’s great,” I say, ignoring the bile in my throat.

  “I’m excited about giving birth to my first child, but we might have to move out of this town.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t feel comfortable being here after Victor Hanes was murdered.” She shakes her head. “I just don’t feel safe here anymore. We don’t even know who did it.”

  My throat tightens as I nod. “But the cops are working on it. I’m sure we’ll know soon.”

  Hopefully it won’t be me.

  “I heard they have a suspect in custody.”

  My body stiffens. “Really? It wasn’t in the paper.”

  “Maybe they’re trying to keep it hush-hush so people don’t panic.”

  “Do you know who it is?”

  “I don’t know if it’s true, but I keep hearing that it’s Jason Marone. You know him, right?”