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My website ads are sustaining me well financially thanks to the local spotlights I’ve been featuring. With Allegra’s story, I feel like I’m on the edge of something new, so despite the warning to “stop looking” for clues, I spend the next day reading both of her books.
I read both quickly and am reminded of what a gifted storyteller Allegra was. She had a knack for giving readers just enough clues then a mind-blowing twist at the end. Wordplay ends when the main character exposes a nonprofit’s scam at their annual gala. During a speech, the protagonist reveals where the funds supposedly used for food and water supplies in third-world countries were really going. Rest in Pieces ended when the main character’s husband found her living a new life—as her friend—in another city, only to realize she’d lured him there to kill him and return to her kids after making it look like he’d held her captive there.
The novels have to mean something. I’m just not sure which one, or what part, but I have a hunch it’s the fake-death part. I pace from the kitchen to the living room. I could try texting “a source,” but that might be too dangerous. I don’t know their ultimate goal, and I might know too much at this point. The questions eat at me as I chew my fingernails down to the quick, and they begin to sting. Safety is suddenly my biggest concern as I seem to draw closer and closer to the inevitable truth.
I grab my phone and stare at it, then the door, then the window. I dead bolt the door and slide down the other side until I’m sitting on the carpet. I text, Is Allegra alive? and send it to “a source.”
The ellipses appear almost immediately. They disappear with no response, reappear, and disappear again. Someone is choosing their words carefully for a question that ought to receive a simple yes or no. My heartbeat is almost double that of the ticking wall clock, and my shaking hand grows weak from the increasing weight of my phone.
Finally, some words: Is anyone really alive who lives?—a source. Another riddle.
I hold my breath and ask what I truly long to know. Are you her? After I hit Send, I run and grab two throws from the couch and wrap up in them as I wait. My anxious shivering is debilitating.
The response is another riddle I recognize as a quote from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then—a source.
It’s her! It’s got to be. She isn’t spelling it out on a billboard, but I can read between the lines. Allegra’s been contacting me as “a source,” messing with me—messing with all of us—and I don’t trust her. Maybe she killed Marcus because he was onto her. Will she kill me now? If anyone can convincingly fake their own death, it’s Allegra Hudson. Her characters have certainly done it time after time.
I grab my purse and keys, lock up the apartment, and sprint to my car. I feel faint. If she knows I know, she may come after Graham or my mom. I want to make sure they’re in a safe place as soon as possible, so I race toward Graham’s preschool and call my mom.
She answers on the second ring. “Hi, baby. How are you?”
“Mom, listen to me. I need you to drive to Violet’s house right away and stay there until the morning, okay? Don’t pack a bag, don’t do anything, just get in your car and go!”
“What? Is everything okay?” Mom asks.
“For now, yes. I’m taking Graham there. Violet can catch you up when you reach her house. Just do what I ask, okay?” I beg.
I hear her car beep as she unlocks it, and I breathe a bit easier.
“All right, honey. I’m leaving now.”
“Good. I love you, Mom.” My vision grows cloudy from the mounting tears.
“I love you too,” Mom echoes.
When I turn in at the school parking lot, my tires squeal. I run inside the school, not giving a damn about what people think of me or my driving skills. I reach Ms. Martha’s door in less than five seconds and demand that Graham leave with me immediately.
“But Mommy, we’re about to play outside for the rest of the day,” Graham whines as his shoulders droop.
“Baby, let’s get in the car now!” I raise my voice and grab the attention of every wide-eyed child in his classroom. Tears drip down Graham’s cheeks onto his shirt. “I’m sorry. We’ve got to go,” I explain to Ms. Martha, who stands there motionless. Graham finally quits crying when I tell him he has a sleepover with Brighton, one of his favorite people in the world, and we’re off.
***
WHEN WE PULL INTO VIOLET’S driveway, I see Mom’s car and realize I never informed Violet of my sudden plans. Mom and Violet meet us at the front door with concern on their faces.
“What happened?” Violet’s complexion is paler than usual.
“She’s alive. I think Allegra’s alive!” I shake my head as I say it, wondering if any of this is real. It feels so bizarre.
Violet’s hands cover her mouth. “What?”
“If I’m not back here in two hours, post the video,” I demand as I wipe my eyes. “I’ve got to warn Connor in person. This isn’t something I can just blurt out on the phone.”
Mom gives me a quick hug, then Violet walks me to my car, squeezes me tight, and whispers in my ear. I know what she’s about to say before she utters a word. It’s her civic duty as my best friend to dish out the harsh truth and call me out when I’m not thinking things through, but I don’t want to hear it. I believe Connor’s innocent. He would never hurt me, never betray me.
The words fall from her mouth like a poison-filled dagger. “You can’t go over there. What if he’s in on it with her? This is too dangerous. It’s time for you to step away from all of this and go to the police.”
I wipe the beads of sweat trickling down my hairline as I try to keep the words from registering. “I have to. There isn’t time to second-guess everything. He loves me, and he’d never in a million—” I try to think of a way to explain to her what I must do, but instead, doubts creep into my mind.
What if she’s right? What if this ends in betrayal and I don’t make it out of there unscathed? I can’t do this to Graham, to Mom. A quote from an old college professor pops into my head. “You all are still young and full of optimism right now, but at some point in your life, you’ll begin to question the world and its motives. One thing I want you to remember in that moment is “What-ifs are a cancer to purpose. You’ll never know the answers if you don’t try.”
“Well, I won’t know for sure if I don’t try.” With trembling hands, I open the door to my car. As much as I love Connor, I can’t just sit back and allow harm to waltz in his door when I know about it.
“If I don’t hear from you soon, I’m posting the video and calling the police.” Vi gives me a pointed look as she backs up toward the front door beside my mom.
“Be careful,” Mom and Violet say in unison. The same worried expression is on their faces as Brighton and Graham chat in the yard, oblivious to the potential danger.
I run to the yard and grab Graham by the face, kiss him hard, and squeeze him tight. “I’ll see you in an hour or two, okay? I love you more than anything in the world. You know that, right?”
Graham shows me his dimples, channeling Clayton for a second before we part. “I know, Mom. I love you more than the whole world too.”
I wave to everyone as I back out of the driveway and blow them all a very misleading kiss of confidence as I head toward Connor. If Allegra shows up on his doorstep before I can warn him, he may just shatter completely.
***
WHEN I REACH CONNOR’S house, the front door is ajar, and I wonder if that was Connor or Allegra’s doing. She could have been sneaking into the house—or out of it. Perhaps she’s hiding in the hedges. I hold my breath and listen as I spin around to study my surroundings. The air is frigid, the wind is calm, and the trees stand still, but the sounds of my heart pounding in my throat prevent me from hearing anything other than Connor’s voice trailing off inside the house.
I push the door inward, and it squeaks. I leave just enough room for me to slip inside and leave the door ajar. I can’t help speculating about whether Allegra recently did this exact thing. Once I’m inside, my eyes travel back and forth, making sure she isn’t lurking in the shadows, although I don’t have a clue what I’ll do if I see her. I don’t know why she isn’t dead, whether someone tried to kill her, what her goals are, or what she wants with Connor or me. All I know is that I’ll kill her before I let her harm him.
Preparing for something awful, I tiptoe farther inside to gauge the situation, but on my fourth step, the floors creak. I take another step and look down. The wood has been replaced and is relatively new, and the board that creaked must be part of the original flooring. My knowledge of wood flooring is minimal at best, so the fact that I notice this means one of two things: I must be hyperaware of my surroundings because I’m in the most terrifying situation of my life, or perhaps I’m familiar with this particular patchwork. Maybe Connor mentioned it before. That must be it.
I pause and hear Connor’s voice in the kitchen. I can’t hear anyone else speaking, so perhaps he’s on the phone. I creep past the living room and wait against the wall, craning my neck to listen.
“No, we had a wonderful time, Joe. Thanks for popping in to say hey to us,” Connor says.
Joe—that was the name of the owner of the Whitestone Inn, I think.
A noise from the dining room window diverts my attention, so I stop to check it out. Before I can, my shifting weight causes the hardwood floors to creak again. I hang tight, stand still, and hold my breath as I continue to listen and pray the noise wasn’t Allegra.
“The room was amazing, just like it was for our honeymoon. Yeah, it’s my favorite room there too. Oh, you heard that? Yeah, that was our song. Our wedding song, actually. Yeah, Remember When. We wanted to relive our dance to it while we were there. Allegra and I both adore Alan Jackson.” Connor pauses, and I assume Joe is speaking on the other end.
“Yeah, I’m sure I’m okay. No, no, I’m fine. Yeah, okay. No, nothing to worry about here. Nothing at all. It’ll all make more sense soon. I promise. Great to speak with you again too. Bye.”
He hangs up, and I can only gasp at the horror of his conversation. He took me to the place where he spent his honeymoon with Allegra, and we danced to their wedding song. That’s beyond sick and twisted, and I can’t decide whether I’m disgusted or if I pity Connor’s apparent emotional instability.
A sick feeling in the pit of my stomach sends acid racing up my esophagus and into my mouth. Clearly, this Joe guy thinks Connor’s nuts for referring to me as Allegra, because Connor kept assuring him everything was okay. I wonder what on earth he’s thinking, or maybe this is just his way of grieving. I have to consider whether he ever truly loved me or just viewed me as a stand-in for Allegra. As I make my way toward the front door, I notice a turned-over picture frame on the foyer table. I’ve never seen it before, and I quickly turn it over.
There she is, in all her glory—the Allegra Hudson. Perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect everything. But there’s something in the photo that was apparently hers all this time—something Connor gave to me. Intricate yellow-gold scrollwork laced with rubies and sprinkled with diamonds, all on a matching yellow-gold chain. It was always her necklace.
I creep out the front door, double over, and take five deep breaths. Then I knock on the front door, clueless about what I’ll say or how this will go. All I know is that despite Connor’s clear need for mental help, I love him, and I must tell him about Allegra most likely being alive. Maybe some way, somehow, this is all a huge misunderstanding.
“Hey.” He beams as he opens the front door. “Didn’t expect you today.” He gives me a squeeze. “I’m so glad you came by. Come on in.”
“Yeah, I was in the neighborhood and thought we should talk.” I scratch my nose and scan the room for Allegra. “You’re going to want to sit down for this. Okay?” I wonder if I need to sit down as well.
Connor studies me, his eyes wide, as he has a seat next to me on the sofa in the den. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy for what I’m about to say. And I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t think it was true. There’s... There’s something I need to tell you.” I grab his hands.
Connor leans toward me with glistening eyes.
“I think Allegra’s still alive.” I pause for a reaction, but Connor doesn’t blink. He just stares straight through me as if I’m transparent.
“And...” he starts, clearly expecting me to finish.
“And...” I say, expecting him to finish.
“And... She’s alive inside you?” he asks, his eyes even wider.
“Alive... inside... me...” I say in slow motion. It’s not a question and not a statement either. My heart falls to the floor, and I feel like I might pass out. Maybe he’s having a meltdown or a nervous breakdown. Whatever the case, he’s not well.
Connor grasps my face and looks deep into my eyes. “You think I didn’t know that? Allegra, I recognized you as soon as you told me about Clayton. You’d told me that exact story shortly after we met. I knew it right then and there. You’d somehow come back to me as you were fifteen years ago. I was consumed by grief and didn’t even recognize you at first. I’m sorry for that. You looked so different at twenty-five, and it’s been so long. I just, I just didn’t... see you.”
He pulls me to him and pats my hair as he weeps. My eyes no longer blink, and I’m numb.
“I’m so glad you remember now. I’m so glad I have you back! I don’t know how we’re going to explain this to everyone else, but we’ll think of something, baby. We’ll think of something.”
My body feels like lead, and blood rushes away from my face as I stare at the wall behind Connor’s head, taking it all in. I love him so much, but he’s clearly suffering from some mental collapse. Our relationship wasn’t real—none of it. He only ever loved me because he thought she was in me somehow, like I was actually her. This whole time. I echo his sentiments as I blink away a puddle of tears. “Yes, Connor. I remember everything.”
Remember When starts playing through the TV in the living room, and Connor reaches for my hand. He beams as he tugs me upward.
As we sway back and forth to the tune, I rest my head on his shoulder and realize the word sad isn’t powerful enough to describe my agony. The stabbing pain in my heart makes me wheeze, and I struggle over what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. I just want him to be mine. Since Clayton’s death, no one’s ever loved me with such passion, and I cry silently as we dance, knowing Connor’s love for me wasn’t for who I really am.
I kiss him deeply, knowing this is the end of us. It has to be. “I love you so much, Connor. But I’ve got to go grab something from my car really quick, okay?” I walk toward the foyer with a tear-stained face, knowing I’ve got to get him some help. But I also know this may be the last time I see him for a long time, and I can barely put one foot in front of the other.
“I love you, too, Allegra. Hurry back.” He twirls to the music and, as I leave, smiles at me like he’s just won the lottery.
“Okay,” I call back as I turn toward the knob, twist it, step outside, and push the door shut with my back. When the door latches, I sob into my palms, and through the spaces between my fingers, I see two red high heels step right in front of me. I gasp with disbelief as I remove my hands and gaze upward at two perfectly toned legs and a red swing dress.
“Time to wake up and smell the roses, Mad!” she says with a simper as she forces a dampened cloth over my mouth and face. At first, I think it’s Mayven, which surprises me. But when my body fades out and falls, I turn over to my attacker and see a face that shocks me to my core.
“Allegra?” I mumble before blacking out.