I am being carried downstairs. I can’t open my eyes. “Jack.” I try to call his name, but can only whisper it. My lips feel rubbery. I have to wake up. Jack needs me.
“It’s all right, Liza. I’m taking you to Jack.”
Alex is talking to me. Alex, my husband. He is home, not in Chicago. I have to tell him tomorrow that I’m really Liza Barton.
But he called me Liza.
There were sleeping pills in that glass.
Maybe I’m dreaming.
Jack. He’s crying. He’s calling me. “Mommy. Mommy. Mommy.”
“Jack. Jack.” I try to scream, but can only mouth his name.
There is cold air on my face. Alex is carrying me. Where is he taking me? Where is Jack?
My eyes won’t open. I hear a door opening—the garage door. Alex is laying me down. I know where I am. My car, the backseat of my car.
“Jack . . . ”
“You want him? You can have him.” It’s a woman’s voice, harsh and grating.
“Mommmmmmy!”
Jack’s arms are around my neck. His head is buried against my heart. “Mommmmmmmmmy.”
“Get outside, Robin, I’m starting the engine.” Alex’s voice.
I hear the garage door close. Jack and I are alone.
I’m so tired. I can’t help it. I am falling asleep.