Adam had to get out of this house before it ate him alive and spit out his bones.
His reputation, ruined. His wife, gone. But his sons no longer respecting him hurt more than anything else. They might never be willing to call him father again. He couldn’t blame them.
This is it. This is what rock bottom feels like.
He stumbled outside. Into the Porsche. Engines on, windows down, Tom Petty’s “Free Falling” on the speakers.
Out of the driveway and onto the road.
Sunshine nearly blinding him as it bounced off the bathtub body’s gleaming silver hood. Trees whipping by in a blur of serenity. The hum of tires zooming over asphalt.
Everything would be fine. He just needed to keep driving. Eventually he would get somewhere better.
Adam drove faster.
He was nearly down the hill. Once there, it was left or right, or nothing.
If he chose nothing, it would be the last choice he ever made.
A right would take him into town, and a left toward the river. There wasn’t much of anything if he went left, and that was probably the smarter choice. Choosing right meant choosing to continue, choosing her instead of his family.
He was done with that. Forever.
The girl with the blood-red lipstick. The murder fantasies. All of it. Right now and until the end of time.
Even if it meant he had to be locked up to keep from being a danger to the people he loved most.
He turned left, toward the river.
It was where he’d taken the boys to ride the bike trails and skip stones and fish.
It was where they’d celebrated most of their birthdays, at least until the boys became video-game-obsessed teenagers.
It was where they’d spent their happiest times as a family.
Now it was the place where Adam would figure out how to keep his inner serial killer from murdering any chance he had of getting his family back.
He made it a mile before his phone rang. Private caller.
He answered more out of curiosity than anything. “Hello?”
“Hello, Adam.”
A familiar voice, but nothing he could place. “Who is this?”
“Give it a second. I’m sure you know.”
The caller was right. Fuck. “What do you want, Dane?”
“I thought that maybe we should talk.”
It took everything Adam had to temper his rage. Through gritted teeth he said, “What about?”
“A few things. I think we should meet in person.”
Great idea. In person was the best way to get his hands around this little bastard’s throat. “When and where?”
“Do you know where I live?”
“I don’t. Probably because you’re always at my house.”
“943 Hidden Trails. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Adam hung up.