Maybe Lily misunderstood.
Maybe someone else…
But then I remembered something that I had let go of at the time.
Two weeks earlier, Derek insisted on changing the smoke detector batteries himself. He said the system was failing. After that, one of them stopped blinking his usual blink. When I mentioned it to him, he replied, irritated, that I did not know how those devices worked.
I kept walking.
There was no longer room for maybe.
We arrived at the dining room. The window was high, with two leaves, and looked out onto the side garden fenced with boxwood. My fingers were shaking so much that I could hardly lift the lock. I did it millimeter by millimeter, hoping at any second to hear another click, another sound that would betray another surprise.
Nothing.
I pushed.
The window opened with a faint groan.
The fresh morning air came in like a blessing.
I picked Lily up and helped her through first. He fell on his feet on the wet grass. Then I went out, taking care not to hit the frame. As I touched land, I took my first deep breath.
We were out.
But we weren’t safe.
I circled the house without getting too close. My car was in the driveway, right in front of the porch. Too close to the front door. Too exposed. I wasn’t going to cross over there. I finally took the phone out of my bag and dialed 911 with clumsy fingers.
They answered the third tone.
I explained everything hurriedly: my daughter had heard my husband talk about an accident, the house smelled of gas, the front door was tampered with, we were outside. The operator told me to move away from the apartment immediately and not to try to re-enter for any reason. They had already sent police and firefighters.
“Is your husband still inside?” he asked.
I felt a chill.
“No. He left half an hour ago.
“Is there anyone else with access to the property?”
I thought of the silent house, of the half-lowered blinds, of the hidden buzz of the installations.
And then I saw it.
The white van parked across the street.
I hadn’t noticed it when I got to the garden because it was partially covered by some trees. His windows were tinted. Engine off. A man at the wheel.
Looking at us.
My pulse shot up.
“Yes,” I whispered. I think there’s someone watching the house right now.
“Get out of there,” the operator said, and her tone changed. Can he run?
I didn’t answer. He was already doing it.
