Page 28 of The Woman I’ve Become

“Maybe she found it in one of the cottages,” Acacia argues.

“It. Was. Not. Olivia.” I’m confident the glare that accompanies each word gets my point across this time. “I found it before we visited the cottages.”

“Julia, surely—”

“Don’t bother,” I interrupt her. “I know it was you.”

Uncertainty flickers in her eyes, but her expression goes blank. I can see the wheels turning. She’s suddenly considering where I may have hidden a nanny cam.

“I swear.” She leans back in her chair and folds her arms over her chest. “It wasn’t me.”

“All right. If that’s the answer you wish to stand by, fine. We have nothing else to discuss.” It’s her. “I’ll call a car for you.”

Her gaze narrows. “So that’s what yesterday’s so-called scavenger hunt was about.”

I’ve basically just fired her, and still she dares to come at me from a different angle. “Yes,” I admit, throwing out a bone just to see where this will go. “I needed an excuse to have a look around—anywhere someone might hide or hole up on the property since getting into the house is not exactly easy.”

“You could have just said that’s what you needed to do.”

Oh the sarcasm. “Given only I, Phillip, you and Helen have access to the house, I had reason not to be fully forthcoming.”

Acacia stands and starts to pace. A move that ensures she doesn’t have to look at me. Lies are easier to hide when there’s no face to face contact.

“I hate to ask this,” she proposes, “I really do, but how well do you know Helen?”

Shift the focus. Nice try.

“I had a very thorough background search done seven years ago when she started working for us. She has other clients in the area as well. All gave her glowing recommendations. I don’t think it’s Helen. But”—I might as well go all in with this part, let her believe there’s still hope she might slip off the hook—“the delivery guy from the market may have had a few minutes when Helen wasn’t paying attention.”

Acacia stalls and opens her arms wide as if this is the obvious answer. “There you go. Someone may have paid him to leave that necklace. Someone who knows its significance.”

Before I can decide how I want to respond, she insists, “We’re overanalyzing this.” She braces her hands on her hips. “We’re going down a path that isn’t even on the map yet. What we should be doing is calling Phillip to tell him what’s happening. He can help. He can set up a security detail here at the house if necessary. And, we need to call your doctor about all this excessive sleeping and paranoia. You’ve been behaving very strangely almost since we arrived. Perhaps some medication you’re taking is causing the reaction.”

Isn’t that nice? She has an explanation for everything. Just like that. “We are not calling Phillip or my doctor.” When she starts to argue, I hold up a hand to stop her. “As for yesterday, I haven’t figured that one out yet, particularly since I am not currently taking any medication. But I have a few ideas.”

She stares at the floor, shakes her head. “Whatever you think. Should I pack my things?”

“When Olivia is finished with her schoolwork, we’ll talk more, and I’ll give you my final decision.”

She takes the cue and goes to find Olivia.

I stare after her for a long minute. The accident threw me off balance for more than two months. It was a hard comeback, and I’m still not whole yet. Even as I think this, I remind myself that I have survived worse. Far worse.

Day after day of torture at the hands of a monster. Chained like an animal. Starved, drugged. Surrounded at times by total darkness. There truly are no adequate words to describe what I suffered.

I smile then. But I had my vengeance.

Just one of those parts of the story that no one can ever know.

14

By noon I’m feeling considerably better.

I’ve spoken with my PI again. Archer appreciated the heads-up on Acacia’s father. He insisted from the outset that any and all information could be helpful. Acacia is behaving as if nothing happened. All cheery and eager to help. We have not spoken again about the necklace or my sending her back to the city.

I decided to make my own breakfast, and then I made lunch as well. Olivia’s favorite grilled cheese sandwiches. Along with the sandwich, I’ve consumed about half a gallon of water, and it seems to be helping. My mind is clearer, and, other than the usual stiffness and aches, I’m feeling pretty good. Well enough, in fact, for a road trip. I intend to go by the market and talk to the delivery guy if for no other reason than to officially check him off the suspect list.

Just as I’m about to announce the expedition into town, Olivia’s eyes round as if she’s thought of something very important. “Mommy, I drew a picture for you this morning!” She drops the remainder of her sandwich on the plate, scrambles from her chair and rushes out of the dining room.