Page 123 of Forever Gone

“Understood,” Kelvin replied.

Kelly followed her toward the hall. “Are you certain eight is when it’ll happen?”

“Aren’t you?”

They hurried through the silent house. The wall clock continued counting behind them.

At the front door, Kelly said, “Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll back out.”

Selena checked the time once more.

“She’s not changing her plans tonight. Not when they’ve consumed her like this. Karen, Ruth, and Linda told Carol to leave her husband. Deb was the fourth voice. Carol’s finished with the first three. ”

The wind caught the door as they stepped outside.

“Now she’s gone to silence the last one.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Deb Mosley had stopped pretending the evening was going well.

Carol Fen sat opposite her at the dining table, cutting a roasted potato into smaller and smaller pieces without eating any of them. The baked chicken had begun to cool between the green beans and carrots. A bottle of red wine stood near Deb’s elbow, half empty. Carol’s glass remained untouched because she had declined a drink when she arrived.

That alone had seemed odd.

Carol normally accepted one glass with dinner and sometimes a second if neither of them had anywhere to be. Tonight, she had smiled at the bottle and asked for water instead.

The smile had disappeared before Deb finished pouring it.

Warm light from the pendant above the table softened the room Deb had spent months making her own. Cream curtains framed the front window. A narrow cabinet held the good plates she had bought after the divorce, mostly because her former husband had insisted the old set belonged to him. On the wall behind Carol, a clock shaped like a sunburst marked each second with a faint mechanical click.

Outside, wind moved through the maples along the street. Dry leaves scraped over the pavement and gathered against the front steps.

Deb lifted her fork. “How’s the new manager working out?”

Carol pressed the tines into a piece of chicken. “Fine.”

“You said she was changing everyone’s schedules.”

“She is.”

“Has that settled down?”

“More or less.”

The reply ended there.

Deb took a small bite. The chicken had needed another ten minutes in the marinade. She had known that when she put it in the oven, but Carol arrived early and leaving her alone in the living room had felt rude.

Carol claimed she had been nearby and decided not to drive home before coming over. Her silver Honda sat at the curb rather than in the drive, pointed toward the main road. Deb had noticed it through the front window while taking Carol’s coat. The position made sense if Carol wanted an easy departure, though most visitors pulled into the empty space beside Deb’s car.

Another small thing.

Too many small things had begun collecting.

Carol glanced at the clock.

“You’re not in a hurry, are you?” Deb asked.