Page 23 of Our Little Secret

She stood on the brakes.

The Explorer screeched to a stop. A teenager on a skateboard flew past the driver’s side, narrowly missing her side-view mirror. “Why don’t you watch where the fuck you’re going?”

“What?” Her heart was pounding so fast she could barely breathe.

Blond hair flying around an acne-riddled face, the kid cut around the front of her SUV, the wheels of his skateboard scraping against the uneven asphalt. She flopped back against the seat, adrenaline scorching through her bloodstream at the close call. Through the windshield, she watched him sail across the parking lot, flipping her off with a long, angry finger and turning to look over his shoulder one last time to scream a last epithet: “Fuckin’ bitch!”

She let out a shaky breath, her heart hammering wildly.

She could have hit him. Hurt him. Maybekilledhim. She hadn’t even known he was in the parking lot. All because she wasn’t paying attention, because she was freaked out, her mind still swirling with images of Gideon’s attack.

She took in deep gulps of air and looked back at the sailboat.

No Gideon.

Her heart bucked.

Frantically, she looked around, at the boat, at the dock, in the lot, between the parked cars . . . Where the hell—?

Go! Just get out of here!

She threw the Ford into Drive.

Glanced at the rearview.

Oh shit!

He was right there! Hunched over and running through the trucks, trailers, and parked cars, he loomed, racing toward the passenger door, only a few steps away.

He sprang.

His hand appeared on the window.

She hit the gas.

Her Explorer shot forward.

Just as the scratch of fingernails scraped down the passenger door and it flew open. She cranked hard on the wheel and he flew off.

She heard a sickening thud, and in the side-view mirror she saw him on the pavement, on all fours, staring after her, breathing hard. She slowed at the entrance and pulled the passenger door shut.

Then she punched it again, her tires squealing as she drove through the marina’s entrance.

Gideon was climbing to his feet.

She hit the automatic locks, gunned it, and didn’t look back.

CHAPTER 6

Later and for once, Brooke managed to pick up Marilee on time. She saw her daughter in front of the school beneath the branches of a sapling planted near the front door, branches nearly bare, dry leaves strewn over the lawn, a fine drizzle falling from the sky. A security officer was posted near the door, a police car parked in the lot not far from the line of buses idling in the pickup lane, where dozens of cars waited, more than usual, as anxious parents waited for their children to appear.

Marilee was with a group of kids but broke away from the pack the second she noticed her mother driving into the pickup lane.

She slipped into the passenger seat.

“Hi—sorry I’m—”

“Can we just go?” Marilee said, buckling her seat belt but slumping down.

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