September 24, 2018
How did she do it? How did she get away with it? That’s what Matt wanted to know, how Marie managed to live. But the police had managed to cut him completely out of everything, so much that he actually found out he was no longer being considered a suspect through Twitter. The Denver PD had released a written statement to local news outlets saying any charges against him would be dropped, that he was innocent of any wrongdoing, and it was all over his feed. He read the statement and then quickly put his phone on the table, facedown, like he was scared of it. And maybe he was, a little. Scared and excited, because it was over. He’d told the detectives everything—well, some of it—and it’d been enough to keep him out of prison. He’d given them enough of the truth to make himself look innocent. It couldn’t have gone better, he thought. Marie? Gone. Riley, who’d started to get so clingy and needy, who’d been talking weddings and babies every time he saw her? Adiós. It was over.
Or was it?
He was sitting up in bed that same night, watching one of the home renovation shows that seemed to be everywhere these days. He wasn’t really watching it, but instead wondering if Marie had seen the statement from the police about his innocence. That was his only regret—he missed the opportunity to see his wife’s face when she realized she’d lost. Marie was a sore loser—a sore winner, too, she’d never really learned to play nice with others—and he imagined the fit she’d throw when she saw the news. And what could she do about it?
Not a damn thing. His lawyer said he was safe. That even if Marie came forward tomorrow and told her side of things, she couldn’t talk her way out of trouble. It was in her best interest to stay away. And Matt had stuck around, he’d stayed calm, he’d cooperated with the police—those things counted, the lawyer said. Makes you look like a good guy. Makes you look innocent. A helpless man held virtually hostage for over twenty years by a controlling woman. It’ll make one helluva movie of the week, he said.
Matt chuckled to himself and flipped back the blankets, padded downstairs and got himself some dessert. Vanilla ice cream with hot caramel drizzled over the top, and he’d be able to eat it without suffering through all the dark looks and comments from Marie. He’d rediscovered all kinds of little pleasures like that over the last week: not having to hide out in the bathroom to get some alone time; sleeping in the center of the bed without having to share; being able to throw trash right into the can without getting a lecture about recycling. He came back upstairs with the bowl, humming as he climbed back into bed. Life was good. It would be better, now.
He’d left his phone on the bed when he went downstairs, and when he got settled back down and ready to dive into his ice cream, he noticed he’d missed a call from an unknown number. And there was a new voice mail.
His hands were shaking.
It was Marie who’d called, somehow he knew it before he even looked. He’d been thinking about her and she’d known, she’d always seemed to know what he was thinking, and it didn’t matter that she wasn’t here with him. She could be in a different house, in a different country, on an entirely different planet and she’d know. A marriage connects people, for better or worse, forever. People say diamonds are forever, but marriage is, too. Forever and ever, until the bitter end.
He thought about taking his cell phone and dropping it in the toilet and flushing the damn thing down, just so he couldn’t listen to that voice mail. Or opening up the window and tossing it out onto the street. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Matt Evans had never been very good at denying himself, and it wasn’t as if he was going to turn over a new leaf now.
So he listened to the voice mail. He didn’t have any other choice. He listened to it once, and then again. And again, countless times. Then he turned off the TV and left his uneaten ice cream on the bathroom counter and went to bed. He may have gone to sleep, or he may have stayed up all night, but either way he was up early the next morning. Tumbled some sunscreen and water bottles and other things into a backpack and got in his car. He drove west, toward the mountains.
And about a half mile behind him, far enough back that Matt never noticed, was a brown Chrysler.