Page 76 of The Perfect Divorce

“You’re fine, Carissa,” I say. It’s a lie but it’s what she needs to hear. “We’re going to get out of here.” Another lie, because I don’t know if I’ll leave by walking up those stairs or if I’ll be carried up them, my lifeless limbs dangling over someone’s shoulder.

“Whereishere?” she asks.

“I don’t know.”

Her breathing slows as the panic from waking up in an unfamiliar place finally settles.

“I think I remember something,” she whispers in the darkness.

I scooch closer to where her voice is coming from, but I’m only able to move a couple feet before the chain is pulled taut, and the cuff scrapes against my tender skin. My brain immediately sends pain signals throughout my body. I wince and absorb the agony in silence. There’s no sense in crying. It’s just wasted energy, and I need to retain as much of it as I can if I’m going to have a chance in hell of getting out of here.

“What do you remember, Carissa?”

Personally, I still remember nothing... well, almost nothing. I was sitting in my car, reading a text message on my phone. My driver’s-side door was flung open and then something soft and damp covered my face. It smelled sweet, pleasant actually—however, the harsh pressure against my mouth and nose was anything but. I tried to scream but it came out muffled like I was yelling into a pillow. I felt a pinch in the side of my arm too. I flailed for only a moment before my world went black. And when I woke up, my world was still black.

“I was at work,” she says.

“Where... where do you work?”

“At a salon. My last client of the day came in, and then there was blood.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“No... I hurt him. It was an accident though. I was shaving his neck, and I slipped.”

“What happened after that?”

“I cleaned him up, finished cutting his hair, and then... I don’t know.”

“Did he leave? Did someone else come in? Did you leave the salon?” My questions are rapid, one after another.

“I don’t think he left.”

“Who is he?”

“Bob. His name is Bob.”

The name strikes something deep inside me, like a puzzle piece has just fallen into my lap but I’m not sure where to place it yet.

“Miller?” The word comes out slow and shaky.

Carissa’s quiet for a moment. The damp, still air muffles all sounds until she asks, “How do you know his name?”

If she could see me, she’d see the whites of my eyes as my lids crawl back on themselves. My heart races, pounding fast and hard. I wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear it echoing off the concrete and the piping. Maybe she can even feel its vibration through the floor. The shock wave after a nuclear explosion.

“I was seeing him—well... I had an affair with him, just one time though.”

Carissa gasps.

“What? What is it?”

“I remember something else. It’s fuzzy though, almost feels like a dream, but I think it was real. I was in the back of a vehicle, tied up, or maybe I wasn’t restrained at all. I don’t know. I only know I couldn’t move.”

“What else do you remember?”

“He was talking to someone, or maybe he was talking to himself. Something about not letting someone get away with something. He wasn’t going to let her get away with it... his wife orawife. And that he’d take her down first...” Carissa trails off.

“Did you see him?”

---