Page 23 of Dark Roads
Too late. Vaughn was coming through the door, his dark shape looming in the hallway, boots heavy on the hardwood. I was caught between the dining table and the kitchen.
He was holding a bouquet of roses, his other hand around the neck of what looked like a wine bottle in a paper bag. His eyes skimmed over me, then lit up when he saw Lana.
“There she is!”
She spun around, laughing. He handed her the roses, pulled her in for a hug, and danced her a couple of steps around the kitchen floor. Cash giggled. I couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move. I was paralyzed again. How could he seem sonormal? It was awful watching Lana with him. She had to be oblivious, to let him touch her like that.
When Vaughn finally released Lana, she turned to me witha smile. “Can you put these in a vase while I finish dishing out everyone’s food?” She passed me the roses in their plastic wrapping.
Vaughn leaned against the kitchen counter, stealing bits of garlic bread while Lana admonished him. Their voices were low, intimate. I snipped the bottom of the roses. Thorns stabbed into my thumb. I gripped until blood swelled, then dropped the flowers with a cry.
“I need a Band-Aid.” I rushed to the bathroom—the suite off Cash’s room—where I sucked at the air in heaving gasps, splashed cold water on my face.
I pressed my palms hard against my face, squeezed my cheekbones, and stared at the side of the tub until my vision came back into focus. One of Cash’s toy trucks sat on the edge. He’d asked me to read to him later. I picked up the truck, spun the wheels, and formed a plan.
When I felt calmer, I made my way back to the kitchen, slid into the seat beside Cash, who said sweetly, “You okay, Hailey?”
“You bet.” I kissed his cheek.
Lana smiled and pushed the container of Parmesan across to me. I didn’t look at Vaughn, but I could feel his presence at the end of the table. The sickeningly sweet scent of the roses was mixing with the scent of the spaghetti sauce and I wondered what would happen if I threw up all over the table. Would I be excused then? Somehow, I managed to sprinkle cheese across my sauce, blow on my spoon to cool a mouthful, and nod in approval.
I glanced at Lana. “Okay if I read to Cash tonight? I was thinking that I could sleep on his floor—my mattress should fit.” I turned to Cash. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“He’ll never fall asleep.” Vaughn’s voice was firm. Was this what Lana thought made Vaughn such a good dad? Laying down rules? He was just a sick control freak. He’d probablybecome a cop so that he could make sure he never got caught while doing his dirty deeds.
“I will. I will!”
I kept my gaze on Lana. “The nights have been really hard, you know?” I hesitated, moved pasta around on my plate. “I start thinking about my dad, and I feel so alone…”
Her eyes softened. “Of course. We’ll set up your bed after dinner.”
“Thanks.” I took a slice of garlic bread. “Just until I get more settled.” Cash chattered about how we could build a fort, while I chewed slowly, nodding and smiling. I still didn’t look at Vaughn. Not once. But I heard every scrape of his fork against his plate.
The window wouldn’t open. I used the flashlight app on my phone to shine around the frame. Behind me, Cash was sprawled across his bed, softly snoring. Lana had drunk a lot of wine at dinner. Vaughn too. I hoped that meant they were sleeping soundly. Amber texted when she got off work at eleven, but I hadn’t answered. I couldn’t fake a normal conversation. Not when I was thinking about those photos. Once I had evidence and could have Vaughn arrested, I’d tell her.
There was some sort of childproof lock on the window—high up. The only way I was getting to it was if I moved a shelf of toys. Legos, musical instruments. Might as well have lined it with rat traps. The back door was too close to the master suite. I had to go out the front.
I turned the bedroom doorknob slowly, holding my breath as I stared at Cash’s shape in the dark. He was still. I crept down the hallway and shoved my feet in my sandals at the entranceway. The door opened smoothly, but I used another shoe to wedge it slightly open so it wouldn’t lock behind me. BeforeI left the safety of the porch, I stopped and listened, let my eyes adjust. Vaughn’s police truck glowed white in the driveway, moonlight reflecting on the stripes.
No movement in the house. No lights flicking on.
I moved swiftly across the grass.
It was harder to pick the lock on the shed in the dark and my fingers fumbled with the tools. Each time I broke into the shed, I risked leaving a scratch. This had to be the last time. I pleaded under my breath. Then finally a click, and the handle turned.
Hands out, I felt my way through the room, using the glow from my phone to guide me. My knee bumped Vaughn’s chair. It was turned around. Had I left it that way earlier? I didn’t have time to think about it. I reached for his laptop—and touched a smooth wood surface. I shone my phone at the desk. His laptop was gone. I stared at the empty space.
He must have come out here after dinner—or when I was giving Cash his bath. Did that mean that he knew I’d found out his secret? Was there a camera? I looked around the office. No lights, no small shapes. It could be hidden inside anything. I had to get out of here.
It was easier getting back inside the house. The door closed softly. I slipped off my shoes, padded through the living room, using my cell phone screen as a light. The laptop wasn’t in his briefcase, or on the coffee table, or in the kitchen. I weighed the risk of sneaking into their room while they slept. I couldn’t do it. He’d wake in an instant, and then how would I explain myself? Maybe I could do it when he showered in the morning. I’d make it seem as though I wanted to ask Lana something.
I was leaving the kitchen when I heard the unmistakable sound of steps. Someone was moving—slowly, carefully—down the hall. I shut off my phone and pressed against the fridge.
Vaughn’s large shape came around the corner. The light flicked on, and our eyes met. He was holding a gun. I stared at the end of it, then up at him. He slowly lowered it to his side.
“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice was quiet, but hoarse with anger.
“I was hungry.” I gestured to the fridge.
