Page 68 of The Woman I’ve Become

Regret settles heavy on me. I want to scream, to kick something.

I grab back control and decide, since I’ve been standing here a minute or more and no one has jumped me, that I am alone in the barn. Whoever did this is likely back at the house now wondering where the hell I am.

Inspiration strikes and I realize that there may be keys or a fob in this SUV. I could leave without going back to the house. I could crash through those doors and just drive away. Pick up Olivia and disappear.

I should have done that already. But then it would only have been a matter of time before the past caught up with me again.

Fuck.

I fumble for my phone, drag it out of my pocket and tap the screen. I turn on the flashlight app and aim the beam into the vehicle. No one in the front seat, but there is a handbag. I grit my teeth. Helen’s.

Then I move to the back seat.

The beam of light roves over a body.

I jerk back, almost fall, then quickly steady myself and look again.

Helen.

Helen is in the car!

I focus the light on her. Eyes are closed. Is she breathing? Oh God. Oh God.

I reach for the door. What if she’s bleeding? A gunshot may have been the sound that woke me. Maybe she came back to see me rather than return my calls.

I feel a sting in my neck.

Before I can swat at it or turn around . . .

29

Let’s get out of here. The night’s a-wastin’!

The words . . . her voice . . . rouses me.

My eyes open, and I find I am swaddled in a thick mental haze. I blink slowly. My eyes don’t seem to want to work any other way. The light . . . the walls . . . things all run together like a bad impressionist painting. I turn away from the light pouring in from the windows. What time is it?

I swallow. My mouth feels weird. My whole body feels very strange. Like I’ve OD’d on some sort of drug.

I open my eyes again and blink more rapidly. There’s still a bit of a haze, but I recognize my living room. Okay. This is progress. Judging by the sunlight filling the room, I must have slept for hours. If I can see and distinguish my surroundings. I must not be dead. I turn my head, and it starts to spin. Nausea roils in my belly.

Close your eyes. Don’t move.

I close my eyes and hold my breath. Then slowly inhale. The spinning stops. I open my eyes again, and a face is right in front of mine. I jump. The shriek that spurts from my throat makes the face draw away.

“She’s coming around.”

Acacia. I recognize her voice. I blink some more and force my eyes to focus. She’s staring at me. Her mouth is moving, but I’m only hearing parts of the words. What the hell is wrong with me? And who is she talking to?

Has Phillip come back again? Or is it Rick? Worse, it could be Acacia’s boyfriend—Brian whatever. Definitely not good.

“What happened?” The words come from me though I didn’t realize they were past my lips until I heard them echo around me. This is utterly bizarre.

Acacia stares down at me. “It’ll come to you in a moment.”

I start to reach up and rub at my forehead, but I can’t move my arm—either arm—I realize as I try the other one. Then I see the problem. I’m tied to a dining chair. I recognize one of the scarves used to bind me, the red one. The green one secures the other arm. It’s the scarves we used for that ride in the convertible.

“Acacia, what—”