Chapter Four

“Let's run through it again.”

“I can't. I prefer not to think about it.” My head in my hands, I leaned over the kitchen counter. My stomach churned and I feared I would lose my dinner on the poor detective. Wait until Sara heard about that! She would never imply he liked me again! I winced at the image as well as the thought. Now was no time to think about anything involving romance.

“Take a seat,” said Detective Logan, guiding me through the open kitchen door to the patio. I headed toward the sage green table and chairs that I recently bought this spring. Despite the warm evening, I was cold to my bones and couldn't help shivering. Detective Logan wrapped me up in a silver emergency blanket but even that couldn’t keep me warm. Every few seconds, a whirling flash of red light pulsed through the house. I wondered how long the ambulance was out there. It could have been minutes or hours, but it felt like forever. “Sit down,” he instructed. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

I shook my head, and hugged the blanket closer as I dropped into a chair.

“It can't be him,” I said, finally addressing my fear when I recognized the man that fell on top of me. I was overwhelmed with absolute terror when I felt his warm blood soaking through my clothing in seconds.

“So you know the victim?”

“Yes. No. That is... I did,” I stumbled over my words. My head reeled and I tried to blink the dizziness away.

Detective Logan held a small notepad and pen. “Can you confirm his name?” he asked, the pen poised.

I nodded. “Brad Van den Berg,” I said, and the cloying taste at saying his name made my tongue uncomfortable.

“And how do you know him?”

“He's my husband,” I said and the world turned black.

~

My eyes opened hazily to a bright, white space and all at once, I knew I was dead. I had to be. He finally did it. He finally did what he promised to do and killed me. So here I was now, trapped in this vast emptiness, with nothing but a rhythmic beeping noise for company. Wait... what things beeped in heaven? And who was talking?

I blinked and struggled to focus on a monitor beside me. There was a nightstand with a water jug and two plastic cups. A metal cabinet occupied the far wall, a chair beside it, and a flimsy curtain surrounded the entire room area. I looked down and wiggled my toes. They were definitely my legs under the cotton blanket but the pale blue gown was no garment of mine.

“She's awake,” someone said, a woman whose voice I didn't recognize before a man with dark red hair came into view.

“I'm not dead?” I muttered in question.

“Nope,” said Detective Logan, “Although you had us worried there for a bit.”

“What happened?”

“You fainted and hit your head on the garden table. You've been out cold for a little more than an hour. You're at the hospital. You missed all the fun of the ambulance ride.” Detective Logan didn't sound amused.

“In Calendar?” I asked, my confusion buzzing as I attempted to make sense of what happened and where I actually was.

“No, you’re in Hallowell. I wasn't sure whom to call so I stayed with you.”

“Thank you.” I moved to sit up but it became such a struggle that all I wanted to do was sink into the soft pillow and close my eyes. My head throbbed but not intolerably. “Then who's at my house?” I wondered.

“A visiting detective from Hallowell PD and several uniformed officers. Do you remember what happened?” Detective Logan's voice was cool and inquisitive and I frowned as I strove to remember everything clearly. When it came flooding back, I wished I could obliterate the horrible moment when I opened the door.

I nodded, weakly. “Yes, I think so.”

“I'm sorry to ask you this again, but could you talk me through it one more time? Slowly, this time.”

“Is this an official statement?” I asked.

“It will become part of the police report.”

I hesitated. “Into Brad's attack?” I asked, my fingers curling around the blanket hem.

“Yes.”

I sucked in a deep breath. I could do this. I reported two incidents to the police before, not that either of them amounted to anything. Well, nothing except a warning not to waste police time again, and a threat from my husband that ended with... well, I didn't want to think about that now. I didn't risk a third time. Instead, that was when I started to plot my escape.

“I heard something outside,” I said after Detective Logan pulled the chair over to my bedside. “No! Wait! That's wrong! It was the alarm on my phone. The security camera is connected to it and it sends me an alert whenever there's movement. I checked it but the screen was blank.”

“Blank? How so?”

“Like the camera was moved. It wasn't facing the porch and garden. I figured I needed to reposition it before I went to bed.”

“Why not just leave it until the morning?”

“I sleep better knowing all the camera is operational.”

“Okay. What happened after the alarm sounded on your phone?”

“Something hit my door. Someone was pounding on it. I said I was calling the police. I wanted to be sure before I called 911. I didn’t want to waste your time again.”

“You didn’t waste my time. What happened next?”

“Then I heard a noise like they said something. It sounded like 'help' but I couldn't be sure. It was too muffled.”

“Why didn't you wait for the police to arrive?”

“I thought about it but I worried that my neighbor could have had an accident. It might have been urgent. So, I put 911 in my phone and got ready to hit 'call' when I opened the door and there he was. He must have been leaning on the door because when I opened it, he fell and landed on me. I saw a figure at the end of the front yard, crouching next to the hedge. Then, I saw his face and I screamed and when I...” I trailed off, gulping loudly and forgetting to breathe.

“Do you always scream when you see your husband?” asked Detective Logan.

“My estranged husband,” I corrected him. “I left him and haven't seen him in more than a year. But that was just a glimpse. It's been almost two years actually.”

“You're separated? And getting divorced?”

“Yes. No. I...” I grunted an exasperated sigh.

Detective Logan poised the pen above the notepad and waited. “Well? Which is it?” he asked, gesturing for me to continue.

“We're separated, but not legally yet. I want a divorce but I haven't filed for it yet.”

“Even though you've been separated almost two years?”

“It's a little more complicated than that,” I mumbled, knowing how weak I sounded. I glanced at Detective Logan but his impassive face belied nothing.

“And the knife?”

“It was in his chest. You saw that.”

“Do you know how it got there?”

“I have no idea!” This time, I bolted upright to fix Detective Logan with a hard glare. Having faced down a man far scarier than him far too many times, I refused to take it anymore. “I don't know how that knife got stuck in his chest, Detective, but it wasn't by me! I was getting ready for bed. I don't even know how he found me! Ow!” I pressed a hand to my throbbing temple. “I'm not even dressed for murder!”

“What was that?” Detective Logan looked up sharply.

“Nothing,” I muttered.

“Do you know where the knife came from?”

“No! I barely remember what it looked like. The handle was black, I think, so it's not one of mine. Mine have wooden handles.”

Detective Logan made a note, then contemplated me again. “What do you mean you don't know how he found you? He didn't know your address? You never asked him to visit you?” he asked.

“No, I did not!”

“His wallet has a driver's license with a San Diego address. That's a long way from here.”

“It is.” I agreed without adding, which is exactly how I like it.

“You said you didn't know how he found you. He didn't call to tell you he planned to visit?”

“No.”

“Did you call him and ask him to come?”

“No! You asked me that already.”

“Can you think of any reason why he would suddenly turn up at your home, clear out of the blue?”

“I don't know. Maybe.”

“And that would be?”

“To convince me to go back,” I said weakly as I reclined slowly, fearful of any more jarring movements. I hated to be here, in a hospital bed, being questioned. I wanted my own clothes and a ride home. Except that wasn’t possible, I realized as I looked around for my clothes. I had nothing but the flimsy hospital gown, and my home was now a crime scene.

“Was that something you also wanted?”

“Detective Logan, I told you already,” I snapped, finding it hard to hold back my burgeoning exasperation. “I left Brad almost two years ago. I didn't tell him I was leaving, or where I moved, and I haven't spoken to him since that time. There’s no way he could have known where I went, I was too careful for that, and I never had any intention of reconciling with him. Ever.”

“So how do you explain him turning up on your doorstep tonight?”

“I can't explain so I won’t bother to try,” I snapped, my voice rising this time. I didn't know if it were due to the incessant questions or the nagging thought that Brad did know where I was. How did he find out?

A nurse stuck her head around the curtain. “Everything okay in here?” she asked.

“Everything is fine, thank you,” said Detective Logan.

“I'll be back in a few minutes to check your vitals,” said the nurse, looking at me squarely. “Hit the button if you need some help before then and I'll be right back.”

“Thank you,” I said, grateful for the reprieve. I clasped my hands and rested them across my legs, feeling small and alone in the bed. Perhaps if I were wearing my own clothes I'd feel less vulnerable. I was well-acquainted with the way dressing the part often made you feel it, not to mention an expert dresser. “Detective Logan, I don't know what more I can tell you beyond my surprise and disbelief. I was just as floored as you are to find my estranged husband with a knife planted in his chest on my doorstep.”

“Okay.” Detective Logan paused, seemingly to review his notes. “Take me back a bit. You said you left Mr. Van den Berg. May I ask why?”

“Because I didn't want to be married to him anymore.”

“Why not just ask him for a divorce?”

“Because...” I trailed off, wondering what I should say. Because Brad would have killed me if I'd asked for it? Maybe that was why. It was a long time since I told anyone the story and I never expected to repeat it over again. Eventually, I suppose I would have gotten the courage to ask for a divorce, if I could have found a lawyer willing to take my case, but even then, I would have carefully remained hidden. “Because he was a violent man, Detective, and it wasn't safe for me to do so.”

“Violent? To whom? You?”

“Yes.”

Detective Logan watched me and I thought his face softened a little. “I'm sorry to ask this but do you have any evidence of that?” he asked.

“I do. Several documented ER visits, and I also made a statement to a lawyer and there’s a catalogue of photographs. I have a copy here, that is, at my house, and my lawyer has a copy also for safekeeping.”

“That must have taken some planning.”

“Yes, it did. My sister helped me. She booked the lawyer appointments. She paid for them too. I couldn't risk Brad finding out I made a legal complaint or... well, you can guess what would have happened.”

“Why weren't the police called to the ER?”

“They were! One of the doctors called them but Brad accompanied me on each visit. There is a record, however. Facial bruising and concussion. A broken wrist. Two broken ribs. I made statements but Brad always had an innocuous explanation and he was so charming that everyone liked him, you know? He made a donation to the police fundraiser the first time. A ‘thank you’ he called it. Contact my lawyer for the statement.” Detective Logan winced as I spoke, and a perverse part of me was glad. It should have hurt him to hear it.

“The police could have helped you.”

“How?” I asked. I fixed him with a long look and repeated, “How?”

“Your lawyer could have driven you to take your statement. And they could have arrested your ex and filed a restraining order.”

“They could have also escorted him in handcuffs from the house, installed a panic button, and told me not to answer my phone or door or go anywhere without a friend... I know all that! Tell me, Detective, have you done any online searches of my husband yet?”

“No.” The pen stopped. “Should I?”

“Yes,” I said. “Then you might understand why I chose to run and hide. I don't know how Brad found me here, but he did. Now, my safety is in jeopardy again.” I pushed back the blankets and swung my legs around. I had to get out of there. It didn't look like my purse came with me so I didn't have any money or my phone. I could have called a cab from Calendar and asked them to let me pay for the fare tomorrow. I wanted to call someone but I wondered if I were really close enough to anyone to ask for such a favor. Perhaps Sara Cutler would be responsive? She’d been so kind to me earlier but our friendship was still fragile and new. She would ask me what happened. “Where are my clothes?” I asked, after a moment of looking. “What happened to what I was wearing?”

“I asked the nurses to bag them,” said Detective Logan.

“I suppose they're evidence.” I didn't think of that.

“Something like that.” He took a deep breath. “They were ruined. You couldn't wear them again.”

“I need something to wear. I can't leave in this hospital gown. I don't think I even have shoes, do I? I was barefoot at the time.”

“I'll ask the nurses if they have a spare set of scrubs.”

“And I need a ride home. I don't have my phone or any money.”

“I’ll drive you. I followed the ambulance in my vehicle.”

“Oh.” That was unexpected. “Thank you.”

“I'll need your official statement too.”

“Tonight? Wasn't what I told you enough?”

“No, I have enough for tonight but I'll ask you to write it down in your own words and sign it. I need to do this by the book,” said Detective Logan. “Is there anywhere you can stay tonight?”

“I can't go back to my house?” Even though I asked, I already knew the answer.

“It's a crime scene.”

“Of course. I guess a hotel will do but I'll need to go home to get my things tomorrow. I'll need clothes and shoes and... I don't have a toothbrush. Or any money.”

“Are you planning on leaving town?”

“I...” I hesitated. The best way for my plans to remain private was for no one else to know about them. That included leaving town and as soon as I thought it, I knew that was what I had to do. I had no choice. Brad was already here and I couldn't fight him. He’d proven that.

“Where is he?” I asked. “In surgery?” I needed to know because if Brad were in surgery, I had just enough time to rush back to Calendar, pack up the few things I needed to last me a couple of weeks and head to a hotel. There were plenty of nice hotels, inns, and short-term rentals in town but Brad had probably taken a room in one of them, and I didn't know which one. I would have to get a taxi in Hallowell and book a room here for the night. Being a much bigger town, it was far more anonymous.

As soon as I gave my statement, I planned to drive as far away as I could and disappear. I already knew what to do because I'd done it before. I'd hire a moving firm to pack up my house and put everything into temporary storage. In a month or so, I would transfer it to another short-term facility. Thankfully, I didn't have many possessions and the costs were minimal. I would break my lease and pay whatever fee was required in the contract. I knew it was there because I insisted on the clause and my landlady insisted on the fee.

The boutique would be more difficult to leave behind. I wished I'd already hired an assistant, then I could have left them to run the shop while I took care of the other business. My lease was up for renewal soon so that wouldn't pose any problem and I could cancel all the outstanding orders. I'd lose money, of course, on my investment already but I had to accept that. Sacha couldn't take on anymore work since school was her primary concern, but I could ask if she knew anyone trustworthy who could briefly take over while I pretended to have an emergency? Or she might host a closing sale to liquidate as much as she could on my behalf, although that seemed a lot to ask of a teenager. If not, I would have to post a notice and shut the shop permanently. My one shot at running my own business was about to fail. It wasn't a risk I could afford to take again but I felt so sure that I found a home when I signed the lease. I sighed. Of course, Brad ruined it. He always threatened to destroy my life if I ever dared to leave him. But he'd take my life if I stayed.

“No,” said Detective Logan, watching me closely. “And I'm afraid you can't leave town.”

“Then it was a superficial wound? Is he somewhere in this hospital? Nearby?” I clutched the blanket, suddenly afraid that Brad would emerge from behind the curtain, holding an armful of red peonies for me, having already charmed all the staff.

“Meredith, he's dead. He was pronounced dead at the scene. There was nothing anyone could do.”