The Perfect Wife Page 16

  Then he stepped forward and she saw that he had a long knife in his right hand.

  Again she tried to scream, without success. As he approached the woman, Jessie used all her might to try squeeze her eyelids shut. But it was no use. They stayed open, forcing her to watch through watery, tear-stained eyes.

  *

  Jessie woke up screaming, her heart pounding. Kyle, seated at the edge of the bed, asked if she was okay but she didn’t answer. She just rolled over and pulled the covers over her head, trying to block the world out.

  She spent the rest of the morning in bed, and the afternoon too. It was only around dinnertime that Kyle was able to coax her downstairs to sip some chicken noodle soup while bundled up on the couch.

  He gave her some hot tea and she retreated to the bedroom again. This time, she was able to sleep for a full twelve hours. She considered it a blessing that she didn’t have any nightmares. Or if she did, that she couldn’t remember them.

  They sat on the couch that Sunday morning with the TV on but muted. Jessie sipped decaf coffee and Kyle nursed what looked like a scotch. No one spoke for several minutes. Finally Kyle cleared his throat and began the conversation she knew was inevitable but dreaded all the same.

  “It’s going to be okay, Jess,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “I’ve been checking the news. She’s been gone for almost thirty-six hours and I haven’t read a word about her. Like I suspected, she’s not going to be missed.”

  “I don’t know if I should be comforted or horrified by that,” Jessie said.

  “Maybe both. But for our purposes, I’ll take comforted. And as long as we’re smart, I think we can stay that way.”

  “It sounds like you were thinking about this while I slept, so I’ll bite: what constitutes ‘smart’?”

  “I have been thinking about it,” he conceded. “And I’ve come to a few conclusions, some of which I doubt you’ll love. Are you ready for them?”

  “No time like the present,” Jessie said bitterly, half-pleased that she was capable of any reaction other than depression.

  He ignored her tone and dived in.

  “I don’t think we should make any big, dramatic moves for the next little while. And that includes moving. I know I said I’d be willing to do it for you. And I am. But if we up and sold the house and moved away right now, only months after arriving, it would definitely draw unwanted attention, don’t you think?”

  Jessie wanted to argue with him but his logic was sound. It would look strange. She nodded.

  “Same goes for the club,” he continued. “I did tell some folks that they’d be seeing less of me. But if I suddenly dropped out of sight after being there so often, right at the time this girl goes missing, people might make a connection.”

  “I thought you said she wouldn’t be missed,” Jessie protested.

  “I doubt she will,” Kyle reiterated. “But I can’t be sure. And if someone does take notice and the authorities start asking questions, the focus might fall on the person she was arguing with the night she was last seen.”

  “But that was me, not you.”

  “And that’s exactly why I think you need to come back and go to events too. We can justify you being gone for a few days, what with morning sickness and all. But anything more than that and those gossips are going to start asking questions. You need to be seen there, looking normal. Maybe even happy.”

  Jessie looked at him like he was crazy. Forcing herself to keep her tone level, she responded.

  “I don’t know if that’s possible, Kyle. I am not happy. I wasn’t before this happened and I’m definitely not now. I want out of here!”

  “I get that,” he said patiently. “But for our own safety, we need to reboot the time table for any possible move. Let’s just stick with the current program for a while.”

  “How long?” Jessie demanded. “How long before we can reasonably bail on this place without drawing suspicion? I need a date.”

  “I can’t say exactly. Maybe a year?”

  “A year?” she repeated, dumbfounded. “In a year we’ll have a kid. You’ll be settled in at the office. We’ll be entrenched. You’ll never want to leave.”

  “It was just an estimate, Jess. Maybe we can go earlier, if things seem quiet and the Natalia situation isn’t a problem. But we need to be careful. Better safe than sorry.”

  “I’m already sorry,” she muttered, looking down to study the coffee table.

  “Listen,” he replied, with more of an edge in his voice than before. “I meant what I said. I think this will all blow over. You’re lucky this happened when it did, with no witnesses, to a girl no one cared about. No one besides me will ever know and I’ll keep your secret.”

  Jessie looked up at that comment, startled by it. He had started for the kitchen to refill his drink. She opened her mouth and was about to call him back, to point out that he must have misspoken.

  Your secret? Doesn’t he mean our secret?

  But something stopped her. She wasn’t quite sure what. Instead she took a deep breath, blew it out, and closed her mouth.

  Kyle kept talking as he poured himself another glass.

  “I’m going to go into the office today. I hadn’t planned to. But after getting that dressing down on Friday and…everything else, I think it would be wise to show my face. I want to appear as the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed new guy in the office, especially now. The more normal my behavior is in the days right after the party, the better for both of us.”

  “So you’re just going to leave me here alone?” she asked.

  “Sure. I typically go in for a few hours on Sundays and this is just a regular Sunday, babe, right?” he said, then continued without waiting for a response. “I’ll only be gone for a few hours and I’ll call you when I’m headed back.”

  *

  Kyle had been gone for about ninety minutes when the pain started. It began deep in her abdomen and radiated outward from there. Jessie stood up to get some medication but quickly sat back down, overwhelmed by the sudden, piercing agony she felt.

  She tried to stand again but couldn’t find the strength. Her back was screaming and she felt weak and nauseous. Just as she processed that, she began to vomit uncontrollably on the living room carpet.

  She glanced over at her cell phone, resting on the coffee table three feet away. It seemed like a mile. She reached out, trying to ignore the cramps that came out of nowhere and began wracking her body.

  As her hand clasped the phone, she realized she might pass out at any second. She only had time to make one call, if that, before she’d be completely useless. She dialed 911 and rolled herself off the couch as the phone rang on the other end.

  With the phone in one hand, she crawled across the floor, through her own sick, to the front door. It seemed to mock her from across an ocean of carpet. She put her head down and focused on moving one hand forward, then the other, then a knee, then the other.

  She had just reached the door, when a voice came on the line.

  “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” a female asked calmly.

  The front door was locked and she had to put the phone down on the floor to grab the handle. She fumbled with it for a few seconds before getting a good grip.

  “This is nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” the voice repeated.

  Jessie wanted to talk but she didn’t think she could do that and turn the doorknob. So she focused on the latter. She used both hands to twist the knob, then flung herself at the door, knocking it open as she collapsed with her top half on the stoop and her bottom half still in the foyer.

  Her thoughts were getting cloudy as she heard the voice on the phone for a third time.

  “This is nine-one-one. Are you having an emergency? Can you speak?”

  Jessie tried to focus her thoughts on that last question and opened her mouth, forcing herself to say something, anything. And just before she collapsed into unconsciousness she was able to groan a single word through her
grimacing lips.

  “Help!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  The hospital room was cool and quiet. Jessie knew that was where she was, even before she could open her eyes. The regular beeping of the heart monitor was an all too familiar sound to her.

  She lay there for a minute with her eyes closed, giving herself a moment to adjust. She could feel slight pressure in the crook of her left elbow and knew that likely meant she had an IV taped there. The cold, whooshing air blowing in her mouth combined with her badly chapped lips suggested she was wearing an oxygen mask. She could feel the flimsy material of a hospital gown pressing against her skin, offering little protection against the chilliness of the room.

  Finally, reluctantly, she opened her eyes. The lights had been dimmed and it took her a few seconds to adjust. She was in a private room. There was a small, square glass window in the door, through which she could see nurses milling about in the hall.

  Kimberly Miner was seated in a chair by the door, asleep, with her head slumped to the side in what looked like an extremely uncomfortable position. Jessie glanced up but the heart monitor was facing away from her so she couldn’t see the numbers.

  She looked down at her body, covered by the thin hospital sheet, and tried to make sense of her situation. She didn’t remember how she got here but she knew why. The memory of the throbbing anguish she’d felt at home was still fresh, even if it was gone now. She refused to allow herself to speculate as to what that might mean.

  She sensed movement at the window of her door and looked up to see Melanie Carlisle right outside, talking animatedly to someone out of her line of sight. They were speaking in loud whispers.

  Seeing her friend filled Jessie with a feeling of enormous relief. But that quickly faded as it became clear that Mel was agitated about something. Jessie tried to make out her words but couldn’t, no matter how hard she focused. That realization made her consider, for the first time, that she might be on some kind of pain medication that was dulling her perceptions.

  Mel stepped through the door and plastered a smile on her face where a frown had been only moments earlier. The sound made Kimberly stir in her chair and she opened her eyes.

  “You’re awake,” she said, sounding relieved. “I didn’t know what to think when I found you on your front stoop.”

  Jessie wanted to reply but couldn’t with the oxygen mask on her face. She pointed lazily to it.

  “Hold on, sweetie,” Mel said, then opened the door and called out loudly to someone in the hall. “She’s awake and she’s trying to talk. Can someone come in here and get that mask off her face please?”

  A few seconds later a nurse came in. She checked vitals and then began removing the mask. As she did, Mel took Jessie’s hand and spoke.

  “I’ve left multiple messages for Kyle. They’ve all gone to voicemail, which makes me think he turned his phone off. But I’m sure he’ll get them soon and be here right away.”

  Jessie tried to reply but her throat was dry and she only coughed.

  “Can you get her some water please?” Mel asked the nurse, who nodded and began to fill a cup with a straw in it.

  Just then the doctor came in. He was young and his eyes were focused on the chart in his hands, which were shaking slightly. Jessie could tell he didn’t want to look at her.

  “Hello, Mrs. Hunt,” he said, finally looking up at her when he had no choice. “I’m Dr. Farah. I know you must be disoriented and frightened. First, let me tell you that you suffered no permanent harm. We’re going to keep you overnight for observation. But you’ll be able to go home tomorrow.”

  He’d been talking quickly, as if hoping that the speed of his words would distract her from the obvious question, the one she suspected she already knew the answer to.

  “The baby?” she managed to croak.

  The doctor looked at Mel, who stepped over and grabbed her hand. Dr. Farah’s eyes fell to the chart again before he apparently reminded himself to make eye contact.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this but I’m afraid you had a miscarriage, Mrs. Hunt.”

  Mel squeezed her hand. She barely felt it.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she whispered quietly.

  “It’s a good thing you called nine-one-one,” Dr. Farah said. “You were hemorrhaging and if it had gone untreated, you might have been at risk as well. I know that’s not much comfort. But you should be commended for your quick thinking. I know it must have been hard to think at all with the pain you must have been in.”

  “Permanent damage?” she asked hoarsely, trying to get answers before she shut down completely, which she could tell was imminent.

  He seemed to get what she was asking.

  “In terms of future pregnancies, it’s a little early to be certain. But I’m optimistic that you will be able to try again.”

  “Reason?” she muttered, feeling the anguish starting to close in on her and trying desperately to keep it at bay for just a little longer.

  Dr. Farah sighed, clearly reluctant to go there.

  “Reason?” she demanded louder, her dry voice bouncing off the walls.

  “It’s hard to know that sort of thing for certain,” he said. “Your initial lab work was inconclusive, although it’s clear that your stress hormone levels were elevated. But we can’t draw too many conclusions from that. We’ll be getting back more results in the coming days. But you should prepare yourself for the possibility that we may never know definitively why this happened.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Jessie whispered before the dam broke. Her eyes welled up so much that she couldn’t see anything but blurry colors. She heard a loud wailing and though she couldn’t be sure, she supposed it was her. Her body began to rebel, convulsing involuntarily in spasms of grief.

  “Sedate her!” she heard Dr. Farah say from somewhere far away. She wanted to tell him not to, to let her feel this, to let her suffer. It was part of her penance for what she’d done. But before she could get any words out, the colors turned to black and so did her world.

  *

  When she woke up on Tuesday morning, Jessie decided she would get out of bed. Except for bathroom breaks, she hadn’t left it since Kyle brought her home from the hospital the previous morning.

  She’d been ordered to stay on bed rest for twenty-four hours. And while she was slightly shy of that, she couldn’t stand to stay holed up in the bedroom with her thoughts and little else for one second longer.

  Kyle had been supportive but subdued. He was always there with Jell-O, soup, tea, or medication. And he offered the standard platitudes one might expect from someone in this situation. But she could tell he was disappointed. His eyes, usually bright and focused, were dull and withdrawn. He seemed to be struggling to muster the energy to console her. She didn’t blame him. He’d lost something too.

  Jessie waited until Kyle had left for work before getting dressed. He’d already skipped Monday to stay home with her and it was obvious that he was worried about what was happening at the office in his absence. But she knew that if she’d told him she planned to go to class today, he would have balked and insisted on staying home with her.

  So she said nothing. When he was gone, she slowly went through her routine. She could move around but everything took longer than usual. By the time she was ready to walk out the door, she was running late for class.

  As she drove over she tried to keep her thoughts on academics. She told herself that it was actually the perfect day for her to return to school. This class session was supposed to have the detective from downtown division. She was relieved to have something new and intriguing to focus her brain on rather than the dark thoughts that bounced around her head when she had quiet, solo time. And at least at school, no one knew what had happened to her so she wouldn’t have to deal with any more pitying faces from well-wishers.

  By the time she got to the classroom, she was a good five minutes late. She took a seat in the corner as Professor Hosta gave her a frustra
ted scowl. Luckily, he was going over thesis requirements again, something she’d already done, so she hadn’t missed anything exciting.

  He went on for another couple of minutes before introducing the man who had been sitting quietly in the chair behind him. Jessie couldn’t really see the guy because the professor was blocking her view, but she listened with interest to his introduction.

  “Class, now that we’ve gotten the obligatory stuff out of the way, I’d like to introduce the man I know you’re all here for today. This is Detective Ryan Hernandez of the downtown bureau of the Los Angeles Police Department. He works in their Robbery-Homicide Division, in a special unit called the HSS. You should ask him what that means. So without further ado, please welcome Detective Hernandez.”

  The class applauded as the detective stood up, giving Jessie her first look at him. Her first reaction was that he was young for a detective in what sounded like such a prestigious unit. She doubted he was much older than her, maybe thirty at the most.

  He wasn’t hugely imposing at first glance, maybe six feet tall and 190 pounds. His jet black hair was cut short, not military short, but close. His brown eyes were alert, surveying the students as he walked up to the podium.

  When he got there, he placed his hands on the sides of it. Jessie saw his muscled forearms flex from his elbows all the way down to his wrists. Even his fingers, including the one with the gold wedding band, looked strong.

  Jessie also couldn’t help but notice that under his torso-hugging uniform, there didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat. Before he opened his mouth to speak, he flashed a friendly smile and Jessie could feel the entire room relax. She wondered if he’d given acting or modeling a chance before settling on law enforcement.

  “Hey gang,” he said in an authoritative, charming tone. “My name’s Ryan. But you can call me Detective Hernandez.”

  Professor Hosta hooted with laughter but the rest of the class remained silent.

  “So much for starting with a joke,” Detective Hernandez said. “As your professor indicated, I work Robbery-Homicide for LAPD. I’ve been on the force for eight years, five as a detective and two with HSS. To save you the trouble, I’ll tell you what that means. HSS stands for Hollywood Security Squad. Our job is to go around the city and eliminate, permanently if necessary, overly enthusiastic fans of celebrities. It’s a fairly secretive new unit, so please keep it on the down low.”