17

Behind Lee’s clunky glasses, twin storms swirled in his eyes. As many fights as they’d had over the years, as many times as they’d argued with one another, she’d never seen him looking so murderous.

“Don’t be mad,” she said. “It was an accident.”

Lee flared his nostrils and expelled a great gust of air. “I’m not mad. I’m furious.”

“If you want to give me your keys, I’ll go bring up the car—” Sharon began.

“We’ll take her in my car,” Lee interrupted.

Rachel half stood on her left leg, right leg bent to relieve pressure. “I can drive myself home.”

Lee scanned her up and down. “Sharon says you’re showing signs of a concussion. We’re taking you to the hospital.”

Feeling her leg wobbling, Rachel sat—at least until the argument was over. No point wasting energy. “Lee, I’m fine—”

“You,” Lee pointed a blunt index finger, “shut up.” He circled her wrist with one hand while the other pulled off her elastic keychain and handed it to Sharon. “Go get her purse. She keeps it locked in the bottom drawer of her desk. Meet us at my car.”

Rachel wished she’d stashed her purse somewhere else that day—anywhere else—just so she could have the satisfaction of contradicting Lee.

Sharon nodded and scurried off. The little turncoat.

Rachel tried to stand again, teetering on her left leg. She needed to take over before things got out of hand. She adopted her calm, flat, reasoning-with-a-child tone. “Lee—”

“Be quiet.” He turned so they stood side-by-side. He snaked one hand around her waist, grasped her left elbow with his left hand, braced her right hand with his own, locking his arm in place and lifting. “Let’s go.”

They proceeded up the aisle to the back doors in silence, Lee bearing the majority of her weight. She leaned against him and felt the heat radiating off his body—not a comforting warmth, but a pulsing, angry heat. When he dropped her hand to open the doors, she accidentally put weight down on her right foot and sucked a deep breath through her nose.

Lee glared at her as he shouldered the door open. It had started to rain lightly. He muttered under his breath and leaned her back against the building before jogging out to his car and fetching an umbrella. He splashed back, fighting the wind that kept catching under the umbrella. Sharon materialized beside Rachel, holding purse and keys.

When Rachel asked, in dark tones, why she’d called Lee, Sharon blinked as if amazed. “You needed help. Who else would I call?”

Between the two of them, Sharon and Lee maneuvered Rachel into the back seat. Lee shut the door with rather more force than necessary. Over the sound of her own shallow panting, she could still hear their voices, muffled, through the rolled-up window.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to meet you there?” Sharon was asking.

“No,” Lee snapped.

Rachel missed the rest of what he said. He might have been telling Sharon where he planned to dispose of her body after he’d strangled her, but his voice was pitched too low for Rachel to make out.

Sharon nodded and blinked at Lee, her huge doe eyes misty in the rain.

Steady drips of water made their way through the partially-disintegrated weather stripping that drooped from Lee’s rear window. When she shifted to avoid the cold stream, a flare of pain lit up the right side of her body.

Lee leaned forward and murmured softly to Sharon. He reached out to touch her on the shoulder, a quick pat. Sharon smiled, still blinking heavily. He handed her the umbrella and stood for a moment in the misty rain, frowning at Sharon’s receding form as she picked her way across the parking lot toward her own car.

Then he yanked open the driver’s door. The car dipped as it accepted his weight.

Rachel sat up straighter. Unless she’d missed her guess completely, the time had come for a reckoning.