Page 58 of The Woman I’ve Become

Next I drape the cross necklace I had stored there over my head and drop it beneath my tee, allow it to settle against my chest.

The necklace is something I bought more recently. A two-inch gold cross that conceals a sharp little blade dangles from the chain. Nothing that would win a hand-to-hand battle, but certainly the right size for freeing yourself from bondage or inflicting a potentially lethal wound to the throat during an up-close encounter. No one will see it coming. This makes me smile in spite of all else.

I tighten the laces on my sneakers and emerge from my bedroom.

“I was just coming to check on you,” Acacia announces as she ascends the final step of the stairs. Her smile is wide and so fake, I want to vomit.

“I needed some time to myself,” I admit. “The house feels too empty without Olivia.”

“It does,” she agrees. “Could you eat some soup or a sandwich?”

I pause at the top of the stairs and gesture for her to go first. Ending up in a heap at the bottom is not how I want to go out. Poor Eleanor. The idea of that very thing happening to her spears me. “I’ll poke around in the kitchen and see.”

Whatever I eat or drink, I will prepare myself.

“Phillip called,” she announces as we enter the kitchen.

I’m guessing she called him. Rather than say as much, I open the fridge and have a look while waiting for her to go on.

“He just wanted to see if you were okay after the excitement with Helen.”

I grab a can of soda and close the door. “You told him about Helen’s visit?”

She shrugs. “I couldn’t exactly not tell him with the two of you talking so loudly when I called him.”

Oh yeah, how could I forget that part? I want to shake the idiot. “What did you tell him?”

“That Helen was upset because you were distressed about the guy working on the security system.”

I relax marginally. So she didn’t mention the other guy—the one I hired to deliver the disturbing message. Doesn’t actually make sense if he’s the one behind all this. Why leave out pertinent info? Because she’s lying through her teeth. “What did he say?”

“He says he’s going to call you and apologize for not mentioning the service tech. There was some kind of software glitch, and he wanted it fixed before you arrived.” She shrugs. “Something about it not logging properly. He insists he just didn’t want you to worry.”

That may or may not explain the issue, but it sounds logical. “Did you tell him anything else you and I have talked about?” She opens her mouth to answer, and I interrupt. “Think carefully, Acacia. I want the truth.”

“No,” she insists with a firm shake of her head. “I didn’t tell him anything else you’ve told me. I swear.”

Soda in hand, I look through the pantry for a can of soup that sounds appealing. A low bar since right now nothing appeals to me. I go with a can of chicken noodle soup. Helen always stocks it because Olivia loves it.

“I can warm that up for you,” Acacia reaches for the soup.

“I’ve got it. Thanks.”

I empty the can into a bowl and place it into the microwave. While it warms I gather a spoon and napkin. Then I locate some crackers just as the microwave announces the cycle is complete.

“Careful,” Acacia warns, “the bowl will be hot.”

Does she not realize I’ve done this for Olivia a thousand times? I use a pot holder and transport the bowl to the island and finally sit. I’m tired, achy, and frustrated, and my head still hurts, but I’m not telling her.

“If this guy who showed up at Helen’s is the Casey Duval you told me about, why do you think he has waited so long?” Acacia slides onto a stool. “It just doesn’t make a lot of sense. Why is he worried about you now if he wasn’t then?”

So we’re having this conversation again, are we?

“What makes you think it’s Casey?” I’m not surprised she came to this conclusion, it’s the reason I shared all that I did with her as well as the reason I selected the man I did. Still, I’m curious. I’m guessing she and the one who sent her are desperate to determine who he is. I imagine her wondering if it could really be Casey.

“Who else would it be?” she throws back at me. “Is there some other guy who knows the untold deets about your past?”

I’m so glad she was listening closely. Not so much about the attitude.