by Ivy Smoak
I looked up at the camera. Sorry Ben. I tried. My husband would still be home for one more day. Maybe I’d wake up with more courage to antagonize him. It’s not like it took much. I walked to the top of the basement stairs and looked down. There were boxes on the floor and files strewn everywhere.
It didn’t seem like he was packing. It seemed like he was looking for something. He wasn’t in my line of vision. Every nerve in my body wanted to go down there and look at the open files. But what was the point? Stirring up memories wasn’t going to help me now. “I’m going to bed!” I called down the stairs.
“Night!” he responded.
“You’re not coming?” How was I supposed to catch him in the act if he refused to even be in the same room as me?
“I’m a little busy, Adeline. There’s a lot to do before Wednesday.”
At least that much was true. He was being uncooperative. So he had just made my week a lot harder. If he kept this up, I’d have no choice but to kill him.
I smiled as I wandered upstairs. Sunday. Monday. Tuesday. Death Day. My week wasn’t looking so bad. I just needed to survive one more day of him.
It took me a long time to get ready for bed. For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about the safe. Even though I knew my husband was just messing with my head. I sat down on the bed and stared at the camera.
Maybe I was imagining it, but it was like I could feel Ben watching. I lifted up my phone and sent him a text wishing him a goodnight before sliding under my covers.
My phone buzzed on my nightstand. I lifted it up to see a text from Ben.
“Goodnight, Addy. Everything’s going to be okay, I promise.”
He promises. He was young and naïve and so freaking wonderful. I turned off the light and rolled over onto my side.
My eyelids felt heavy but my mind was still racing. I had been trying passwords I thought my husband might use. I hadn’t tried any that I thought I might use. He’s lying, Addy. I squeezed my eyes shut. Why would I believe the word of my husband over my own memory?
***
A knock on the door made me yawn. “You get it,” I mumbled and reached over for my husband. But the sheets were empty.
Another knock made me sit up. The bed was perfectly made on my husband’s side. He had never come to sleep. I rubbed my eyes and climbed out of bed.
When my feet reached the bottom stair I froze. The mailman smiled at me as he handed my husband a huge package. A package with Amazon tape wrapped around it. What the hell was my package doing here? It was supposed to be two business days. And it was Sunday. When had packages started coming on Sundays?
It was almost like the mailman could feel my distress. Like he enjoyed torturing me. His smile grew.
I narrowed my eyes at him. What happened to our understanding? We had a routine. He always just left packages on the front porch.
But it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t his fault that Amazon had lost their damn minds. Sunday packages. Completely preposterous.
“Have a good day,” the mailman said to my husband and walked away. He probably had no idea that he had just ruined my whole day.
I wished that Ben and I had thought to put cameras in the foyer. The tiles were cold on my feet as I quickly walked toward the kitchen.
“What is this?”
I turned back to my husband. “What is what?” Playing dumb was the worst idea ever. What was I doing?
“This.” He kicked the package with his foot.
I thought of all the murderous valuables. “Don’t!”
He folded his arms across his chest. “So clearly you know what it is. Open it up.”
“I didn’t realize it was coming today. When did they start delivering packages on Sundays? Mailmen need a day off.”
“Adeline, what’s in the package?”
For the first time I realized how tired he looked. His hair was matted on the side like he had fallen asleep on something hard. There were dark circles under his eyes. Something was definitely bothering him. He was hiding something. The reason why we were moving. He’s running.
“Adeline!”
“A present. It’s a Christmas present for you, honey.”
He eyed me coolly. “It’s a little early for Christmas, isn’t it?”
“It’s almost October. I like getting my shopping done early. I always have.” It was true. But I wasn’t sure if he knew that or not.
He leaned down and ripped off the tape.
“Stop it.” I ran over to him. “You’ll ruin the surprise.” I grabbed his arm to stop him from opening it. He hit me across the face with the back of his other handing, knocking me to the floor.
“A paper shredder. Paint cans. A blowtorch.” He laughed. “A scanner?”
I clutched the side of my face. He had hit me in the same place that I already had a bruise. And he was laughing. I clenched my jaw.
“Rope. A staple gun. Kerosene. And...Christmas ornaments.”
“I told you it was a Christmas related purchase.”
He tossed the ornaments back into the box and I heard them shatter.
Jokes on you. I needed to shatter them anyway.
“Why do you need Kerosene and a blowtorch?”
“I’m making you something. You’ll have to wait until Christmas to find out.” Too bad your body will be rotting in the ground long before then.
“I’m going to ask you one more time. What are you making?” He walked over to me.
“I just told you it’s a Christmas present. I’m not going to ruin the surprise.”
He grabbed my hair in his fist and yanked my head back so that I’d look at him. I swallowed down the cry in my throat.
“Tell. Me.”
“I’m going to use them to murder you.”
He laughed and released his hold on my hair.
I touched the back of my head. Sometimes the smallest actions hurt the most. My whole scalp burned. I walked backward until my calf hit the step. It would have been easier to run to the kitchen. But now I’d have to go up the stairs. Frick. He’d easily catch me and pull me back down. I needed to calm him down somehow.
“You think I’m joking? Just watch me do it.” Why? Why would I say that of all things? God, he’s going to kill me before I even get a chance to kill him.
“Adeline.” He made a tsking noise that caused my stomach to flip. “Oh, poor, sweet Adeline.” He reached forward and gently ran his fingers through my hair. The action was even worse than when he pulled my hair. Fake. Everything he did was fake.
“We both know that I’m not sweet.”
“That’s true. Your mind is sick and twisted. You’ve done unthinkable things. But killing me? No. No, that’s never going to happen.”
“After everything you’ve done to me? What makes you think I won’t?”
“I’m not saying you won’t try. I’m saying you can’t succeed.”
“Yes I can.” I was clenching my jaw so hard that I was getting a headache. I wanted to bite my teeth into the side of his neck, but I stayed where I was. I clenched my jaw so that I wouldn’t try.
“Besides, Adeline.” He touched the side of my forehead. “You really think I’d just go away? Nothing ever leaves this.” He tapped the spot he’d been touching. “Your brilliant, broken mind. I’m unforgettable. You’ve made me unforgettable.”
“No.” I shook my head.
His fingers slid underneath my chin. “Oh, babe, I’m already there. You’re already doubting yourself. I can see your mind working. You’re wondering if I’m right. And deep down you know I am. You will never escape me.”
“No.” My voice was sad and quiet.
He made the tsking noise again. “Take your meds. We have lots of work to do today.” His fingers fell from my skin.
“What work?”
“The packing.” He gestured around the house. “Box it all up. I’ll be downstairs.”
“Doing what?”
He smiled. “Making sure you can't possibly forget
me.”
Oh, I was definitely going to kill him. And he had no one to blame but himself. But as he walked past me down the hall, I did start to wonder if he was right. If killing him would ever be able to erase the years of pain. The memories.
I was hopeful that it would. Besides, my memory wasn’t very good. And I could thank him for that. He was the one that made me take my medicine.
Chapter 37
I placed the last pan into a box and taped it shut. There was something satisfying knowing that when the house burned down everything would be organized. I wiped my hands off on my jeans and stood up.
We had a lot of useless kitchen appliances. I had never been much of a cook. It would have been better to donate the boxes to Goodwill than to let them all burn. But how suspicious would that be? Well. Maybe not that suspicious. If we were moving, we would have a reason to donate stuff. I just couldn’t donate everything. Now that would be a red flag in any investigation afterward. And I couldn’t afford any kinks.
I sighed. Kinks. I still had one major one. I lifted up my phone and typed out a text to Ben.
“Can you please send me Charlotte’s number?”
His response came almost immediately. “Where is your husband? I haven’t even been able to get him in the frame. Let alone any evidence. Her number is 555-2583.”
“He’s working on something in the basement. Thanks for her number.” I was about to type her number into my phone when another text came through.
“Organizing his serial killer files? Seriously, Addy. What does an insurance collector even do? I’ve been doing some research and that’s not a real job title.”
I swallowed hard. No, it wasn’t. But it described what he did perfectly. “Ben, stop doing research. You’re going to get us both killed.”
“He does something illegal, doesn’t he?”
“I’m serious, Ben! Stop researching it.” I looked up at the camera and made a swiping motion across my throat. I was not going to get this close to freedom only to wind up dead.
“We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”
I stared down at his last text. Yes, we did. There was no reason to respond. Instead, I typed in Charlotte’s number and put my cell phone up to my ear. She answered after two rings.
“Hi! Charlotte Hallady speaking.”
“Hey Charlotte, it’s Adeline…Bell.”
“You’re the only Adeline I know,” she said with a laugh. “How are you feeling, hon?”
“A lot better, thanks.”
“Me and the girls are so excited to spend time with you on Wednesday. I’ve already picked out the perfect bottles of wine.”
Bottles. Maybe Charlotte was a drunk. It would be nice if there were flaws behind that perfect facade. “Actually, I have some bad news, I…”
“Oh, don’t you dare cancel on us, Adeline. We’re so looking forward to it.”
“Well, that’s the thing. I’m moving…”
“No! When?”
“Wednesday night.”
“So it’ll be a farewell get-together then.”
“No…”
“We’re going to hate to see you go, but you’ll have to let us send you off in style.”
“Can’t we do it earlier in the week?” Or not at all?
“It’ll be fine. We’ll bring everything. No need to fuss. I can’t believe we’re losing you.”
“I really think it would be best if we did it maybe tomorrow night?”
“Nonsense. It’s already set in stone. We’ll see you Wednesday afternoon. Bye now.”
“But…” the line was already dead. What a bitch. She couldn’t come on Wednesday. I needed all day to booby-trap the house. I’d call her again tomorrow and be more firm about my demands. Sometimes I thought I hated Charlotte more than I hated my husband.
I eyed the basement door. What on earth was he up to? He’d been hard at work all day down there. He hadn’t even stopped for lunch. Despite my conversations with Ben and Charlotte, I felt relatively calm. Packing tended to do that for me. I liked that everything had a place. And that everything ended up in said place once packing was complete.
I opened up the fridge and pulled out some lunch meat and lettuce. The least I could do for my dear husband on one of his last days was make him a sandwich.
Besides, I had always loved making him sandwiches. I hated mayonnaise. Just the thought of it made me want to gag. He happened to like it. But I always felt satisfied smearing it onto his bread. This gross, gloppy stuff. I liked to pretend that I was ruining his sandwich. That he’d choke on the greasy mess.
I smiled as I placed the slice of bread on top. Perfectly disgusting. I might actually miss this. I laughed out loud in the empty kitchen. Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t miss a thing about him. I walked down the basement steps to find my husband pulling a folder out of a filing cabinet.
“I brought you a sandwich. You could probably use a break, huh?”
“Thanks, babe.” He took the plate from me and set it and the file down on a folding table.
“Have you found what you’re looking for?” I couldn’t help my curiosity. He was so intent on finding something. And I had no earthly idea what he was looking for.
“No, not yet.” He took a bite of the sandwich.
I smiled at the thought of the gross mayonnaise. Take that.
“Thanks, this is delicious.”
He had the palette of a child. “Mhm.” I rested my back against the banister. “What is it exactly that you’re looking for?”
He looked up from the file. “You’ll see soon.”
How irritatingly vague. “I was thinking. If we move…I’ll need to find a new doctor. Maybe I could choose my own this time?”
He sighed and closed the file, tossing it into a nearby box. “That won’t be necessary.” He walked over to the filing cabinet and pulled out another file.
“You think I’m well enough to stop going to therapy?”
“No, I didn’t say that, Adeline. Dr. Nash will be joining us in Florida.” He opened up the file and started reading it. As if he hadn’t just said the most absurd thing in the world.
“She can’t come with us. She has a practice here. I’m not her only patient.”
“You’ve made a lot of progress with her guidance. I don’t want our move to have negative consequences for your health. The whole idea is that this will be best for you.”
“She won’t agree to it. She hates me.”
He looked up at me. “Dr. Nash doesn’t hate you. And she’s already agreed to come.”
“What do you have on her?”
“Excuse me?” He put his hand down on the file.
“Are you blackmailing her?”
He laughed. “What are you talking about? No, I’m not blackmailing your psychologist. But I am paying her handsomely for the inconvenience of moving. That’s probably motivation enough.”
“That’s crazy. I can just find a new doctor.”
“It’s already done.” He lifted up the file and tossed it in the box.
“But…”
“Go get some rest, babe. You look tired.”
I wanted to argue with him. But it was like a wave of exhaustion hit me. All the packing had worn me out. I watched the back of his head as he pulled out another file. I truly was exhausted. Of him. Of us.
“If you could do things differently…would you?” I asked.
He turned toward me. “What do you mean?”
“If you could go back and marry someone else. Someone less…”
“Never. I love you, Adeline.”
I nodded.
“I think a nap would do you some good.”
Why did he keep trying to make me go to sleep? My eyelids felt heavy, even though I didn’t want them to. “Maybe a nap would do me some good.”
“Yes. It most definitely would. I really do need to get back to these files. We’re running out of time.”
We most certainly were. Somehow this was the nicest exchange we�
��d had in years. And it made me incredibly suspicious of him. “If you were in trouble, you could tell me, you know,” I said.
“I know.”
There was no reason to press it. He’d tell me if he wanted. But it was disconcerting. Depending on what mess he was in, it could haunt me after he was dead. And I was so tired of running. I was so tired in general. I started to climb the stairs.
My ankle barely hurt anymore. In a few days, I’d probably be able to run again. Right around the same time when I’d never need to run again. I smiled as I made my way upstairs. Three more days.
Chapter 38
I pulled back the curtain and watched my husband’s sedan pull out of the driveway. It was go time.
I threw open the flaps of the Amazon box. The blowtorch looked especially fun. But if I was being honest, I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t really know what to do with any of the items unless I was at close range. Which wasn’t an option. I knew from experience that I couldn’t overpower him.
Even though Ben didn’t approve of my plan, he was the one that had come up with it. He’d be able to help. I shot him a text letting him know that my husband was gone.
There was one other person that could help me. The little boy from Home Alone. And it would be nice to see how everything worked out for him. Because I was pretty sure I’d need a little luck on my side.
I dragged my box of equipment into the family room, put everything on the coffee table, and pulled up the movie On Demand. A light study session was just what I needed. It had been years since I was I college, but I was pretty sure I still knew how to take notes.
***
“Why are you watching Home Alone?”
My notebook fell out of my hands at the sound of Ben’s voice. “What the hell, Ben? How did you get into my house?”
“You gave me a key, remember?” He sat down on the couch beside me.
“No, I don’t remember giving you a key.” I didn’t really care that he had one though. I was just upset that he had nearly given me a heart attack.
