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I hit send and chortle. Ned’s never going home from his “retreat.”
I turn off his phone and get dressed. Changing into something comfy for the twelve-hour flight. Some basic black sweats with a hoody, a long-sleeve T-shirt, and my Uggs.
Dressed, I go through my handbag to make sure I have everything I need.
My iPad with my movie script is inside it. I can’t wait to finish it on the long flight.
And importantly, both passports.
Ava’s and Isa’s.
The reason Ava didn’t get Isa’s birth certificate in the mail is because I stole it. It arrived ten days ago. I also stole Ava’s old passport along with her driver’s license and one of her credit cards. I slipped her a few sleeping pills and while she was in a deep sleep, I took Isa, the birth certificate, and Ava’s expired passport to the passport office and easily got new ones. Wearing green contacts, I looked enough like Ava not to be questioned. Moreover, the passport agent, a proud grandma, was too enamored with little Isa to pay much attention.
Also ensconced in my bag is a pair of green contact lenses—the exact color of Ava’s eyes—which I’ll put on before I check in, as well as a sleeping mask which will help me with my fear of heights when we’re up in the air.
I debate what to do with Ned’s phone. I need it in case the airline texts me a flight change or cancellation. Chances are they won’t, but to be on the safe side, I’ll take it with me. When I get to Argentina, I’ll get rid of it. I can’t take any chances of the cops—or the FBI—tracing me.
Next, I toss in Ned’s gun. I stole it from his desk drawer last night and kept it hidden in my medicine cabinet. Ha! He’ll never know it’s missing. Depending on how the rest of the day goes, I may need it.
One last thing to pack: the butcher knife. So sharp and shiny! Though I never got to use it on Ned, it may come in handy later. With blood or without it, I’ll toss it, along with the gun, into some random garbage bin on the way to LAX. There’s no way they’ll get through airport security.
One last dilemma. What do I do with Ned’s car? I can’t leave it hanging around this house for the police to find. Stepping outside, I don’t see it right away. I take a short walk and find it around the corner. His flashy yellow Lamborghini. An idea comes to me: I’ll drive it back to his house and leave it there. When I’m done with business, I’ll call for a cab on Ned’s phone to take me to the airport and pay with cash. The police will think he committed a horrific crime and fled.
About to leave this squatter house behind forever, there’s one last thing I need to do.
Finding some stationery and a pen in my suitcase, I scribble a letter.
Dearest M~
It’s all going to plan.
Tonight’s the night.
You will all be righted.
And soon we will be reunited.
It’s almost like a sonnet. I sign it with my name and a signature heart, then fold it and stuff it along with some of Ned’s cash into a stamped envelope before slipping it into my bag.
Then I’m out the door. I can’t help but smile.
I’ve come up with a foolproof plan.
Believe me, it takes a genius to get away with murder.
And with my 165 IQ, I can.
FORTY-TWO
AVA
I didn’t sleep a wink. But despite my sleepless night, I’m wide awake and wired up. I heard Ned leave for his retreat, but pretended I was sleeping. I was too angry with him to even say “safe travels.” For all I care, he can get into an automobile accident and die. How dare he not believe me, and stand up for Nurse Marley?
I’m still bristling from her accusations. The indignity. Maybe the first one is true—my first few days home from the hospital I was in a brain fog from my lack of sleep, whacked-out hormones, and debilitating pain.
But there’s absolutely no way I put Isa to sleep on her tummy last night. My mind was sharper, more focused than it’s ever been. I did nothing to jeopardize Isa.
I’m not stupid. I’m not depressed. And I’m not unhinged.
