“I just wanted to get my day started. I didn’t finish my laundry last time I was here. Is it okay if I do it now?”

  “Of course. It’s in front of the washer.” Diane had found Alexa’s duffel full of laundry in her office the evening she’d found the dead duck, and she had moved it to the laundry room. She would’ve washed and folded it for her, but she wasn’t sure how Alexa would have felt about her handling her things.

  Another awkward smile crept across her daughter’s face, then she turned and headed to the laundry room.

  What the hell’s going on? Diane wondered, pulling a carton of eggs out of the fridge. A few minutes later, Alexa emerged from the laundry room.

  “Eggs and coffee?” Diane asked.

  “Yes, thanks.”

  “Thanks”? The smiles? Who is this young woman?

  Diane handed Alexa a cup, then began frying the eggs. She watched Alexa as she sat at the bar, silently stirring her coffee with her finger, as though lost in a thought. She looked up a couple of times like she wanted to say something, but Diane pretended not to notice.

  “You guys get a dog?” she asked.

  “He’s a stray. I’m trying to find a home for him.”

  “Josh doesn’t want him?”

  “Josh hasn’t seen him yet. He showed up this morning.”

  “Showed up?”

  “Yeah. On the deck.”

  “Oh. Where’s Josh?”

  “Spending the night at a friend’s house.”

  Alexa nodded and stared at the dog for a minute. Then she made a face and shifted in her seat. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and headed toward the foyer. Diane heard the door to the half bath close loudly and the faucet squeak on, then she thought she heard Alexa vomiting.

  She wouldn’t ask. The last thing she wanted to do was to get on Alexa’s bad side. This morning had been surprisingly pleasant.

  Diane left the plate of food on the counter for Alexa, then reached for her phone to see if Josh had texted her. But she was surprised to find her phone was dead. That was weird. She was sure she just had a full charge.

  She went upstairs to her office and plugged the phone in, then sat talking to Biscuit, who had followed her up, while she waited for it to charge.

  When her phone beeped to let her know it had powered back up, she grabbed it and swiped the lock screen. It opened to an Amazon page. But she never shopped Amazon on her phone.

  She took a closer look at the Amazon page and noticed who was signed in:

  writewellorquit777

  Diane’s brain stalled. writewellorquit777. That was the username of the reviewer who wrote those hateful reviews about all of her books.

  She turned the phone over in her hand. It looked like her new phone. Then she pressed the home button to close the Amazon page and look at the apps: Pandora, Candy Crush, Hulu, Netflix. She felt a catch in her throat. She’d mistakenly picked up Alexa’s phone.

  And Alexa was writewellorquit777.

  FEELING AS THOUGH someone had punched her in the stomach, Diane set Alexa’s phone down on the table next to the staircase, then quietly walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

  She gazed at the woman who stared back at her in the mirror. She looked tired.

  She was tired.

  Tired of struggling with her daughter.

  Tired of trying and failing.

  Tired of being on the receiving end of her daughter’s disdain. Her daughter hated her. Truly hated her . . . she had to; how else could she do something so malicious? She felt herself start to crumble.

  As she always did when the stress became too overwhelming, she reached under the sink and grabbed some cleaning supplies. She sprayed the cleaner in the bathtub and unwrapped a new sponge, then started scrubbing.

  She was angry, but she knew good mothers didn’t get angry with their children.

  Or, did they?

  Tears stung her eyes and she began to cry. Alexa’s attitude toward her was like a stain that she couldn’t wipe clean. It tarnished everything.

  She scrubbed harder. So hard the skin on her knuckles split. Ellie had been right. What was she teaching Alexa with her never-ending patience? That it was okay to treat people like doormats?

  Because it wasn’t.

  She wanted more than anything to protect Alexa. But she could only protect Alexa so much . . . because she had no idea how to protect her from herself.

  “Mom?” Alexa called from outside the bathroom door.

  Diane stopped scrubbing. She cleared the tears from her throat. “Yes?”

  “Have you seen my phone?”

  “On the table next to the stairs.”

  A long pause. “Uh, thanks.”

  Diane stood up and tossed the cleaning supplies into the sink.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she looked at her reflection with a new sense of resolve.

  Okay. She’d taken the wrong approach with Alexa. She was fully on board with that now.

  But now she was going to take the right one.

  CHAPTER 22

  ALEXA STARED DOWN at her phone.

  Her Amazon app was open, just as she had left it, and she was signed in as writewellorquit777.

  Crap, crap, crap, crap, double crap!

  Had her mother seen it?

  And why did her mother have her phone anyway? Was she spying on her? Or had it been an accident?

  Hearing footsteps coming down the staircase, she quickly tossed her phone on the couch and pretended to look out into the yard.

  “Alexa?”

  A cold flush spread through her. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t like her mother’s tone. She had seen, hadn’t she?

  “Alexa?” her mother repeated.

  Reluctantly, Alexa turned around.

  Her mother stood in front of her, her eyes red and glassy.

  Oh, no. She did.

  “What awful thing did I do to you to make you hate me so much?” she asked.

  “I . . . I don’t.”

  Her mother shook her head. Alexa noticed she was clenching her jaw. She was angry.

  “It’s pretty obvious you do.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m not stupid, Alexa. I saw your phone.”

  “What?” Alexa pretended not to understand.

  “Why would you put all that energy into writing those nasty, hateful reviews for my books? And, my God, for, what? Almost five years now! Why go to all that trouble?”

  Alexa’s eyes filled with tears. It was time to come clean. To apologize to her mom. She just wished she’d done it before something like this had happened. She swallowed hard. “No. Look, I actually came to—”

  But her mother wasn’t listening. “I love you more than anything, Alexa. And I always will, no matter what you do. You’re my daughter, and that bond is very special to me. But . . . you go out of your way to hurt me. All the time. And it ends now.”

  The air left the room.

  Huh?

  What ends?

  “I am tired of being your punching bag. I’m not going to do it anymore.”

  Alexa felt like someone big was pressing down on her chest. Instead of apologizing, she heard herself say, “Why were you looking at my phone anyway?” The words had just come out—and she regretted them as soon as they were out of her mouth.

  Her mother stared at her with clear disappointment. They stood in the middle of the living room, silence growing between them.

  Alexa felt like she was in a corner. Her ears burned hot. “You have no business looking at my phone!” she shouted.

  Her mother’s face reddened. “I pay for your goddamn phone! And I pay for it with royalties from those so-called lame-ass books I write!”

  Alexa’s breath caught in her throat. She took a step backward, stunned to hear her mother speak to her with such anger.

  “So just because you pay for my stupid phone, you think you own me?” she yelled. “You think because you give me money that you can just do what you want? I’m not a kid!”

  “Do you ever listen to yourself?” her mother asked. “Because you sure as hell act like one.”

  “Oh, I’m the one acting like one? Who’s checking someone else’s phone? Who’s getting passed-out drunk? Who’s picking up guys at bars and sleeping at their house overnight?” she asked, her words taking on a noticeable bite.

  Her mother’s face reddened. “You want to talk about getting drunk? About stealing alcohol? What about sleeping pills? You want to talk about that? God knows what else you do to yourself, Alexa. You have the world at your feet, but all you seem to want to do is make a mess of everything . . . and step on those who care about you!”

  They stared at each other for a long moment, then her mother’s voice softened but sounded more controlled, which was somehow even scarier. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. All I’ve ever tried to do is be a good mother to you. But it doesn’t matter. You clearly have decided to hate me. You think that it’s fine to disrespect me . . . and even steal from me. And I’m tired of waiting for you to grow out of it. I’m done.”

  Done? What?

  The room felt as if it were closing in on her. “It’s because of that guy, isn’t it?” Alexa heard herself say. “Is that it? Now that you’re screwing him, I’m just in the way? Do you really care more about getting laid than about your own daughter?”

  “I want you to leave,” her mother said calmly. “You owe me an apology for that and everything else . . . and until I get one, and until you start treating me with respect, I don’t want you here.”

  Her mother turned and started up the stairs. “Finish your laundry and leave.”

  Alexa could barely breathe. What just happened? I came here to apologize. To start making things right. This was supposed to be a new start.

  She stomped into the laundry room and pulled her wet clothes out of the washer, stuffing it into her duffel bag. There was no way she was going to wait around for it to finish.

  Tears in her eyes, she grabbed her keys and left.

  CHAPTER 23

  FOUR NIGHTS LATER the roaring in his head had morphed into something even more mind piercing: the sound of someone shrieking.

  The loud, ear-piercing wails shredded his mind, sending him pacing. He was sweating, trying his best to keep it together, but it was getting difficult.

  He couldn’t, wouldn’t, go out tonight. It was way too soon. He had to stay put. But it was taking everything he had to stay in. He’d always prided himself on his self-control. Where had it gone?

  Stop. Things are going so well.

  You don’t need to do this anymore.

  You don’t even want to do this anymore, do you?

  No. He didn’t. Not anymore.

  But it was fighting him. His skull felt like it was in a vise. He held his head between his palms, trying to keep it in one piece. He clenched his teeth, willing the shrieks, the screams to go away.

  Who was screaming?

  Was it Jill?

  Katie?

  Or someone . . . or something . . . from before?

  Or, a thought even more frightening . . . maybe it was him?

  Oh God.

  He tried to concentrate on the goldfish. He scooped it up with the side of his hand and let it squirm its soft little body against his palm and plop down into the larger fishbowl, its new, bigger home.

  He watched it swim in circles for several seconds before it finally calmed down and began to explore the little pirate cove he bought for it to hide in. After all, everyone needed a place to hide.

  He set aside the old bowl and tried to keep his mind on the fish, but he was shaking. His high after being with Jill had been a letdown. It had lasted all of an hour, much less than Katie. And much, much less than his other victims.

  Within two short hours he began feeling worse than before he visited her, and the itch had already started all over again.

  And it bothered him that they hadn’t found Jill yet. It had been five days. Had no one missed her? Had no one but him noticed she’d suddenly stopped updating her social media accounts?

  He turned a thought over in his mind. A surefire way to alert them to what had happened to Jill . . . and within minutes, if not seconds.

  But it was risky.

  It could change everything for him. But wasn’t that what he wanted? At least on some level?

  He turned the thought over in his mind a few times, then went to retrieve her phone and the battery. He shoved the battery in and slid the backing of the phone back on. Then he opened her camera app and sifted through the six photos he’d taken of her, paying careful attention to the details of each one.

  In each of the photos her neck was turned at a slightly odd angle, and for once she wasn’t making the awful duck face. Her mouth was relaxed, actually, her lips parted. Her eyes were half-open, staring at the bedroom door.

  Had she been thinking about the door?

  Hopeful somehow she would be able to slip out of his grasp and escape?

  Or had she already given up?

  He selected the best photo of the six and, holding his breath, uploaded it to Facebook.

  If they didn’t know she was gone, they would know now.

  This was going to be her most popular post ever.

  He removed the battery from the phone again and put it away, then his eyes flickered back to his laptop, and he watched.

  Not a minute later, the first of the comments rolled in . . .

  Jackie Taylor: Dude, what are you doing?

  Charlene Hickey: Dude, that is NOT funny!

  Tim Egan: WTH? Wasn’t Halloween almost two months ago?

  Steven Dennison: Best pic ever! Sharing!

  Kristy Lipton: Is this some kind of a joke?

  He was much calmer ten minutes, 203 comments, ninety-four likes, and sixty-six shares later as he continued to watch everything unfold on Facebook:

  Jeff Voorhees: What are those marks on your throat? Seriously. This pic is disturbing the shit out of me.

  Terry Clark: Call me!

  Eddie Raymond: Why aren’t you answering your phone?

  Sarah Brighton: Dude, seriously . . . I just called the cops. Are you okay?

  Amy Davis: This isn’t funny, Jill!

  Todd Jackson: I just reported this to Facebook.

  Crystal McGee: Answer your door, hon!

  Beth MacDonald: Jill, honey, this isn’t funny. Please answer your phone.

  He watched, his blood electric, until Facebook took down the photo.

  The screaming had stopped for now . . . and his world, at least for a little while, was almost okay again.

  CHAPTER 24

  DIANE OPENED HER eyes. It had been five days since she’d stood her ground with Alexa. She hadn’t reached out to her since . . . or to anyone else, for that matter.

  She’d also come down with an awful sinus infection, one she’d been battling for most of the week.

  The only places she’d gone were the veterinary clinic to get Biscuit checked out and then the pet store for dog food and supplies. She’d placed two additional ads on social media, and so far no one had claimed him. It looked like she might be keeping him after all.

  Rick had shown up midweek, surprising her with chicken noodle soup he had picked up from Brookmart’s deli. He said Wayne had helped him select it. He had stayed and played video games with Josh and visited every afternoon since. It made her happy seeing Josh with a male figure again. A solid one.

  He was solid, wasn’t he?

  Her thoughts circled back to Alexa, like they always did. Her eyes welled up with tears and she sniffed into her pillow. She’d Skyped with Dr. Carol back in New Jersey twice since having the discussion with Alexa—and she said Diane had done the right thing. She advised her to give it time. She hadn’t banished her daughter. She’d just erected healthy boundaries by telling her she didn’t want to see her until she was ready to apologize and be more respectful. Dr. Carol said that odds were, she’d come around.

  But what if she didn’t?

  It had been a tough decision, even tougher to enforce it and not reach out to her in the days afterward, but she knew that she’d done the right thing. Still, it was painful to rip off a Band-Aid.

  Diane forced herself to get up and dress. Then she deep cleaned her house most of the day, listening to music she hadn’t heard since her college days: Evanescence, Radiohead, Green Day. The music brought back old memories of her time spent with Ellie, of the days when things had been great with Frank. It was almost unfathomable how different her life was back then.

  At six o’clock, Rick showed up with Thai takeout he’d picked up in New Cambridge. Josh was with his friends again and Diane didn’t want to be alone.

  When she answered the door, she smiled, again taken by how attracted she was to him. But a second later Biscuit sidled up next to her and growled at him, baring his teeth.

  “No sir,” Diane said. “That’s not nice. Rick’s my friend.” She knelt down and scooped the dog into her arms. She petted him, trying to calm him down, but the dog kept growling. “Sorry. I don’t think he likes men much. He growled at Josh, too. I’ll just put him in the kitchen.”

  “And I will make sure to stay out of the kitchen,” Rick assured her with a grin.

  Diane left Biscuit in the kitchen with a bone and led Rick to the dining room. She’d already lit candles and dimmed the overhead lighting. She took the takeout from Rick and brought it to the table. Halfway there, Rick walked up behind her and circled his arms around her waist. “You didn’t tell me you had a dog.”

  She leaned back into him. “I didn’t. Well, I don’t. He just showed up last week. I have ads out to find his owner . . . or even just a good home for him, but so far, no one’s bitten.”

  “That explains why he’s so skinny,” Rick said. “Poor little guy.”

  Rick plated the food while Diane went back to the kitchen for drinks. A few minutes later, they were ready to eat.

  “So,” she said. “Tonight, let’s talk about you.”

 

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