Page 73 of The Last Mrs. Parrish

A cold smile. “Here’s a little tip: I will always be ten steps ahead of you. Keep that in mind when you decide you know better than I do what’s good for you.” He moved toward me, and I stood rooted to the floor, too shocked to move. He touched my cheek, and the look in his eyes grew tender. “I love you. Why can’t you see that? I don’t want to punish you—but what am I to do when you insist on doing things that are bad for you?”

He’s crazy. How did it take me this long to see that he’s crazy?I swallowed hard and flinched when his fingers traced the tears running down my cheeks. I ran from the room, grabbed a few things from the bedroom, and went into one of the guest rooms. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—white as a ghost, whole body shaking. Moving into the guest bathroom, I washed my hands, cleaning his blood from under my nails, and tried to come to grips with how I had let myself lose control. I’d never done something like that before. His cavalier comment about my mother dying made me realize there was no going back after tonight. I had to leave. Tomorrow I would pack up the baby and go to my mother’s.

After a few minutes, I went in to check on Tallulah and found him standing over her crib. I hesitated at the doorway, something about the picture not striking me as quite right. His stance was menacing; his face in shadow, ominous. My heart beat faster as I approached.

He didn’t turn toward me or acknowledge my presence. In his hands he held the enormous teddy bear he had bought for her when she was born.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

As he spoke, he continued to stare at her. “Did you know that over two thousand babies die of SIDS each year?”

I tried to answer, but no words would come.

“That’s why you put nothing in the crib.” Then he turned to face me. “I keep telling you not to put her stuffed animals in with her. But you are so forgetful.”

I found my voice. “You wouldn’t dare. She’s your child, how could you—”

He threw the bear onto the rocking chair, and his expression was neutral once again. “I was just joking around. You take everything so seriously.” He grabbed both of my hands in his. “Nothing will ever happen to her as long as she has two parents looking out for her.”

I turned from him to watch my baby breathing in and out, and was crushed by her vulnerability.

“I’m going to sit here for a while,” I whispered.

“Good idea. Do some thinking while you’re at it. I’ll be waiting for you in bed. Make sure you don’t take too long.”

I glared at him. “You can’t be serious. I’m not getting near you.”

A thin smile played on his lips. “You might want to rethink that. Tire me out, or I may sleepwalk and find myself back in the nursery.” He stretched his hand out to me. “On second thought, I want you now.”

Silent and dying inside, I took his hand, and he led me to our room and to the bed. “Take your clothes off,” he commanded.

I sat on the bed and began to pull off my slacks.

“No. Stand up. Do a strip-tease for me.”

“Jackson, please.”

I gasped as he yanked me by my hair toward him. He pinched my breast hard. “Don’t piss me off. Do it. Now.”

My legs were so jellylike, I don’t know how I remained standing. I made my mind go blank, shut my eyes, and pretended I was anywhere but there. I unbuttoned my blouse one button at a time, opening my eyes and looking at him to see if I was doing it right. He nodded, and as I stripped, he began to stroke himself. I didn’t know who this man was, sitting on my bed, looking like my husband. All I could think to ask myself was how he had done it. How had he played the part for over a year? What kind of a person can keep up a charade for that long? And why was he showing me the truth now? Did he think that I’d stay with him just because we had a child together? Tomorrow, I would go, but tonight, I’d do what he said, do whatever it took to make him think he’d won.

I continued the performance until I was naked. He reached out for me and threw me onto the bed. Then he was on top of me, his touch maddeningly tender and attentive. I would have preferred for him to take me roughly, and for the sake of my daughter, I forced my body to betray me and respond—for he was nothing if not perceptive, and I knew he would never abide my holding back.

Forty-Five

The next morning after he’d left for work, I raced through the house, packed up as much as I could, put the baby in the car, and began the long drive to New Hampshire. I knew my mother was going to be shocked when she found out the truth, but I would be able to count on her support. It would take us around five hours to reach the inn. My thoughts raced as I tried to sort out how this would all shake out. I knew he’d be furious, of course, but there was nothing he could do once we were gone. I would tell the police about his threats to the baby. Surely they could protect us.

He called my cell phone when we reached Massachusetts. I let it go to voice mail. My text tones kept sounding:ping, ping, ping—rapid-fire like a machine gun. I didn’t look at the texts until I stopped at a rest stop for gas.

What are you doing in Massachusetts? Daphne, where is the baby?

You haven’t hurt her, have you? Please answer me.

I didn’t think you were serious last night. Don’t listen to the voices.

Daphne, please answer! I’m worried about you.

Call me. Please. I’ll get you help. Just don’t hurt Tallulah.

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