Page 66 of Run for Her Life
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Repeated the name a few times. Like she was confirming details.”
A cold weight settled in her gut. The name rang a bell. It was the username from the chatroom that Annabelle communicated with. Jackie knew Spector too. But who was he?
FORTY
Dawn stood barefoot on cool tile in the washroom, wearing a robe, a towel wrapped loosely around her damp hair. It was a muted morning with soft amber light leaking through linen curtains. The faucet was dripping again. Another thing she needed to fix.
There were many things that needed fixing. Her company was sinking. And her body was betraying her. It wasn’t until the diagnosis that Dawn understood the distinction between her body and mind. All her life, she had prided herself on her efficiency and performance. Sharp as a tick. Her entire being working in coordination.
Ever since she’d found out just how sick she was, she had grown detached from her body. But what about her mind? Where would she go after she died?
She moved slowly, methodically, brushing moisturizer across her cheek with one hand, the other reaching up into the mirrored cabinet above the sink.
The pill bottle was where it always is. Tucked behind a half-empty bottle of mouthwash and a travel-size sunscreen she rarely used, living in a town under a constant cover of clouds.She pulled out the bottle and twisted the cap open, shaking out two small pills into the palm of her hand.
The routine was built into her. She froze.
The pills were the same color. The same shape. But there was a slight chip on the edge of one of them—a little crescent bite that wasn’t there yesterday. And the other? The coating looked dull… Maybe it was the light.
Dawn tilted her hand. The pills rolled slightly on her palm. She set them down on the counter.
Doubt brewed inside her mind, curling in the corner of her thoughts and shaking her confidence. Something felt wrong.
She reached for the bottle again and peered inside.
Maybe she was just being paranoid after all the stress at work. She was seeing the worst in everything. But still she decided to count them.
Sixteen.
She did the math in her head. She should have seventeen. Or was it fifteen? She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the bottle. A week ago, she’d skipped a dose. She was working late, had a headache, and fell asleep early. Or was that two weeks ago?
“Damn it,” she muttered, frustrated. She didn’t like uncertainty.
She picked up the chipped pill again and turned it over. It could’ve broken in the bottle. That happened. Except the cut was too clean. It wasn’t jagged like she’d expected it to be. She held it to her nose and took a whiff. It smelled less metallic than the other ones.
She put it back down and her heart picked up rhythm. Frantically, she checked her cabinet again and the label. Name, dosage, instructions. Everything looked fine. And she didn’t have any other pills. But this pill was different. She was sure of it. But where did it come from?
And what if she’d consumed the wrong one before?
The staff would have no reason to do this—would they? Dawn was a powerful woman with enemies. But how many enemies had access to her washroom?
Her eyes flicked to the mirror again. And she glanced out the half-open window beside the sink.
David was in the backyard, trimming the rosemary bush near the fence. A random hobby he had picked up in recent years. He wore a linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his fingers deftly plucking dead leaves. A watering can sat nearby. He hummed softly to himself. Something tuneless, low.
Dawn watched him for a long while. Could it be possible?
She felt guilty for even thinking it. David was her son. As much as he resented her for their differences, he wouldn’t stoop this low. Except he could have. She knew how she’d punished David every single day since his negligence that night of the fire. Much more recently, she had blocked his attempt to get on the board, even though he’d had some support.
She turned away from the window.
The pills were still on the counter. Her mind jumped back to two weeks ago. The night she woke up in a fog. Her mouth dry, heart thudding in her chest. She’d chalked it up to one of the symptoms, even though it was relatively a new symptom and not something she had expected. But her medication was strong and everyone responded differently.
But then last week, David had offered to refill her prescription for her.
The memory settled in her stomach like a stone.
The truth was that Lisa was out of her depth. She had never dreamed big or complicated. She had been raised by a teacherand a storeowner, graduated with average grades, and enrolled into the academy. It was supposed to be a simple, uneventful life in this simple and uneventful Washington county.
