Page 1 of The Couple's Secret
Prologue
Leave while you still can.
She ran her fingers over the words. Someone had carved them into the wood at the bottom of her underwear drawer. A splinter caught in the pad of her index finger. With a hiss, she drew her hand back. Pain stung her skin. A surprising amount of hurt for such a small injury. Her brain latched onto it though, in a desperate attempt to distract her from the uneasiness that coiled around her spine, slithering upward until it set the hair at the nape of her neck to standing.
Leave while you still can.
For almost two years, the words—the warning—had lain hidden beneath her underwear and lingerie. Under the plastic liner that had been there when she arrived. All the drawers had liners, checkered in black and white, more suited to a kitchen than a bedroom. She’d never liked them, but it wasn’t as if they were visible all the time. Not unless she hadn’t done her wash in a long while. If it wasn’t for her leaving her coffee too close to the edge of the dresser while yanking the drawer open too vigorously, she never would have pulled the liner up, never would have seen the message.
The creak of a door opening somewhere in the house startled her. Her skin went clammy. Uneasiness turned to trepidation, settling heavily on her shoulders, like a yoke. Cocking her head, she strained to hear any movement or footsteps. A year ago, she would have called out, hoping it was him. A year ago, she would have shown him the words. He would have reassured her that they weren’t meant for her. How could they be? He would have told her how he picked up the dresser from some estate sale or how some customer had given it to him as a gift. Then they’d worry about who had written them.
Now, as she heard the heavy tread of boots approaching, she scrambled to put all her wet, coffee-stained underthings back into the drawer. Her fist curled around the crumpled liner, lukewarm brown liquid dribbling down her wrist. It was too big to put in her jeans pocket, so she stuffed it into the back of the drawer.
There was just enough time to slam the drawer home before the knob on the bedroom door rattled. Cool sweat dampened her nape. She realized her breath had become quick and labored. The words were alive now, a whisper escaping through the seams of the wood.
Leave while you still can.
Hoping she looked far calmer than she felt, she faced the door as it swung open, discreetly brushing her wrist over her hip, wiping away the sticky streak of coffee. Shock made it impossible to force a smile onto her face.
Breathless, she said, “Wh-what are you doing here?”
He smiled, closing the door softly behind him and stepping closer. “You know exactly why I’m here.”
“You can’t be here. Please. It’s not—” Breaking off, she realized she’d been about to say “safe.”
It’s not safe. There it was, the thing she hadn’t wanted to face, hadn’t even wanted to think. She didn’t want to breathe life into it because if she did, then what?
“Hey.” He prowled closer, too close. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t.”
When he gripped her wrist, she jumped. The cold sweat spread rapidly, forming a sheen over her face. He turned her arm, running his thumb over what was left of the coffee residue. Paralyzed, she wondered if he could hear the words carved into the bottom of the drawer running on a loop in her head now.
Leave while you still can.
She had to stop this. Before it was too late, she had to find a way out.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she spoke, not sure if the word was meant for him or for some deity who had abandoned her long ago.
“Please.”
One
Detective Josie Quinn let out a stream of curses under her breath as she held up one of her work shirts. Fresh out of the dryer, heat radiated from the fabric. It was the fourth polo she’d pulled out and the fourth one that had small, dark stains peppering its tan material. Some were round, others were in irregular shapes. All of them were permanent. A domestic goddess she was not, but she understood that stains set in the dryer. Tossing the offending shirt into the basket at her feet, she squatted and riffled through the clothes still inside the drum until she found the source of the stains. A lip gloss.
“Son of a—” She swore another streak.
She must have missed it when she checked her pockets. That meant all of her work shirts and almost all of her pants were ruined and she was due on shift in an hour. At least none of her husband’s work clothes had been in the load. Both of them worked for the Denton Police Department as part of its four-person investigative team, Noah Fraley as a lieutenant, and she as a detective. The city was small and nestled among the mountains of Central Pennsylvania, along a branch of the Susquehanna River, but it kept them busy.
Josie didn’t have time to order a whole new work wardrobe, and she didn’t even want to think about how much it would cost. Turning the small, pink cylinder over in her hand, she realized it didn’t belong to her. She kept her makeup to a minimum while on duty. Mostly she worried about covering up the ever-present circles under her eyes. On occasion, she wore lip gloss but nearly every tube she owned was upstairs in a bathroom drawer. Another search of the remaining clothes in the dryer revealed a pair of shorts that didn’t belong to her. They must have been left in the washer, the lip gloss snug in one of the pockets, and she’d unknowingly mixed them in with her own laundry.
A high-pitched squeal of delight cut through her thoughts, followed by waves of feminine laughter.
“I won again!” eight-year-old Harris Quinn declared triumphantly.
From the laundry room, Josie had a view of most of the kitchen. She had only been half paying attention to the activity while she finished her wash. Everyone seemed to be getting along just perfectly without her anyway. Even their Boston terrier, Trout, was in on the fun, though Josie knew he was only there for any food that might fall to the floor. For a moment, she watched, transfixed. Some muted part of her brain marveled at how life could change so quickly, sometimes in the time it took to answer the door.
Her palm closed around the tube. She didn’t need to read the label to know the color. Cosmic Primrose.
