Page 90 of Beneath Her Skin

“I’ll let you go first,” she says. “As a show of trust.”

My wariness swells and turns into a dull, accepting fear. “So what?” I say. “You can throw one of those knives at my back? Cut my legs off with an axe?”

“I’m not my husband,” she says. “I didn’t know he was doing this.”

“You don’t seem too surprised by it.” Or disturbed. Horrified. Any of the things I’d expect from a normal person.

“Trust me,” she says. “I’m surprised.”

The wind pushes more snow into the cellar or basement or whatever this place is. I wrap my arms around myself, my muscles aching from being chained up.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Judith says. “And then we’ll go into the house—you should see it, once you’re up top—and I’ll get you a change of clothes. A bath. We’ll address that cut and anything else. Are you hungry?”

It all comes out too fast, and I consider that maybe she’s more upset than I give her credit for.

“He hasn’t fed me,” I say flatly.

“And how long have you been here? At least a few days, I would guess?”

The way she talks about this, like it’s ordinary, is terrifying. I nod, hoping that will shut her up.

“Then I’ll heat up some broth to start. You don’t want to overdo it. Now go. Before the storm gets worse.”

This still doesn’t feel real. I still expect him to step out of the shadows with that manic, terrible grin. I expect to hear his shrill,Honey I’m home!and the scrape of a knife against metal. I expect to feel his hands around my throat.

Judith stares at me, her pretty face an unreadable mask.

“Where is he?” I whisper.

“In Pennsylvania.” Her eyes burn. “I assure you, he’s not here. You’re safe, at least from him. That cold will kill you, though.”

She’s right. I know she’s right; I can feel it slicing through my skin, even down here, out of the elements. The cement floor sears the bottom of my feet. My body won’t stop shaking. Althoughthatmight not be from the cold.

“And what about you?”

“I’m not going to kill you.” She hesitates. “But I do plan to kill him.”

I’m too numb to react to that, except for a small, sizzling spark deep in my chest.Surely you’d like some revenge?

Do I?

“Are you going to fly to Pennsylvania and do it?” A stupid question to cover up my fear and confusion.

“This conversation would be much more comfortable in the house,” she says. “Please. Go.”

I turn to the stairs. I would hear them, sometimes, creaking and grinding beneath his weight, a terrible announcement of his arrival. Then he would appear in the doorway of my cell, blades gleaming in either hand.

The wind blusters across my face, dusting my cheeks with little stinging dots of snow. I still think this is some kind of trap, that I’m being corralled upward by his perfect wife so he can attack me in the cold. But at least I’m not bound up by chains. At least I mightbe able to run.

So I go up. Every time I put weight on my left leg, pain shudders through my body, but I keep telling myself Iwillrun as soon I’m outside. I can fight through the pain. I’ve just got to get out of here.

The cold cuts through me. Snow blows into my face. And when I finally peek my head outside for the first time in three days, all I see is snow. He’s not here.

But I also realize that Judith is right. I can’t run. I’m barefoot and dressed in lingerie. The cold sears through me, cutting straight to my bone. For a moment, all I can do is stand on the frozen slab of concrete, shivering wildly, staring out at the frozen landscape. A dead forest. A house glittering like ice. A field of snow.

“You can’t be out here much longer.” Judith’s voice makes me jump, and when she wraps her fingers around my forearm, I screech and try to pull away. But I’m weak from her husband’storture and starvation, and she’s stronger than she looks. “Do you think you can make it across the yard?”

Tears burn at the edges of my eyes. It feels like freedom, but I know it’s not.

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