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‘This is one of a hundred, Liliana. It’s gotten out of hand. You’ve gotten out of hand.’

  If I had been doing this while high, what else had I done that I didn’t know about? The implications were frightening. I was living in a blackout.

  ‘So you’ve let Sienna listen to these messages?’

  ‘Of course. She’s my girlfriend. We don’t have secrets.’

  ‘And was she pissed when she heard them?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you be?’

  And the puzzle pieces clicked together. It all made sense now. The threatening note. The breathy prank calls. The slashed tires. His girlfriend was after me, and I almost couldn’t blame her. With my temper, I would have done the same. Tony certainly had a type – fiery and jealous.

  I felt both terrible and relieved that it was Sienna. How could I have ever thought Robin or Willow were behind it? I got up and headed to the bedroom, returning with a knife in hand. I held it out to Tony. His hands flew up defensively and he stumbled back a few steps.

  ‘I’m not going to stab you, idiota. You know your girlfriend is a psycho? I think this belongs to her. She left it in my tire last night.’

  Tony scoffed, then carefully took the knife. ‘You get what you give, Liliana.’ Was he taking the side of his girlfriend of one minute over me, who he’d known for almost twenty years? ‘God knows how many enemies you’ve made due to your poor choices. You’re a liar and an addict. So before you come at my girlfriend for whatever is going on in your wasted life, how about you get your act together first? And leave me and Sienna alone.’

  Wordless. Helpless. Powerless. He left me like that as he stormed out of my apartment and out of my life.

  But I couldn’t lose him like this. Not without a fight. Italian women didn’t back down. No, I would win over some skanky-ho puttana. I always did when it came to Tony. Mine. If I couldn’t have him, no one would. Especially not some tire-slashing tramp named Sienna. If the years with Tony had taught me one thing, it was how to get him back into my bed … and I knew just what to do to bait him.

  Chapter 30

  Mackenzie

  SATURDAY

  Crows are said to be a bad omen, a harbinger of death. If any bird earned that reputation I would think it would be a buzzard. After all, they appear at the first sign of death and feast on it.

  Two buzzards picked at a dead squirrel in my front yard. The poor thing had been splattered by a passing car, and some animal lover, hating to see the critter so dishonored, had tossed the bloody carcass into my yard. Thanks, but no thanks.

  Today I felt like that squirrel. Smashed beyond recognition.

  No one knew this, though. Lily mistook my avoidance for being my usual introverted self. Aria thought maybe I was just anxious. And Owen, well, he was decidedly oblivious to my emotions and moods.

  I watched the world from my living room window, while Owen took his post-coital nap in our bedroom. Apparently it was exhausting degrading his wife on top of a Maytag top-loader. Aria had smothered herself in baby oil and was sunbathing in the backyard, which I warned her about. But to my fair-skinned teenage daughter who despised her pale legs in shorts, skin cancer was a fair exchange for a tan. This was what women did, hiding the sorrow behind sun-kissed smiles. I always thought of that riddle: if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? The answer is no. I was the tree, falling, crashing. Nobody listened or cared.

  Shy and timid – these were words often used to describe me by those who never bothered to take more than a passing glance. When applied with such force, the words soon became tools that chipped away at me, creating who I was on the surface, shaping me with each syllable. But at my core, underneath the hardened plaster that everyone interpreted as me, I wasn’t who they thought I was.

  In fact, no one knew the girl behind the mask. Even I hadn’t seen her true face. Not fully, at least.

  It was easy to miss the real me. The angry me. The passionate me. The indomitable me. Of course Owen would laugh at such adjectives used to describe his meek, obedient wife. Always so agreeable. Never confrontational. A wallflower. If someone bumped into me on the sidewalk, I was the first to apologize. If another parent challenged my childrearing methods, I would humbly seek their approval. If a Facebook ‘friend’ questioned my latest post, I would hastily delete it. Ever the people pleaser, I had lost all fight.

  Until now.

  Until my doorbell rang.

  Until I answered it, finding Robin standing resolutely on my doorstep, her clenched jaw saying it all. Something had happened, something that would destroy our friendship for good.

  ‘Hey, Robin.’

  Dark clouds heavy with rain gathered in the sky behind her, matching her angry scowl.

  ‘How could you do that to Ryan?’ Robin demanded.

  I had no idea what she was talking about. I needed her to understand this. She and Lily were my only allies; I couldn’t risk losing her, no matter how disappointed I was in her son. ‘Do what?’

  ‘Pressing charges against him. Claiming he raped Aria. We’ve been friends forever, Mackenzie. How could you without talking to me first?’

  ‘Robin, I swear it wasn’t me. Owen must have …’ Had he done it behind my back? Did Aria know?

  Robin’s lips began moving so fast, the words poured out quicker than my brain could translate. ‘Well, you can thank your husband for the detective who showed up at my house to bring Ryan in for questioning regarding the rape accusation, which Lucas had to witness! The poor kid thinks his brother is going to jail now. And why? Because of an accusation that you made. You put that thought into Owen’s head. Ryan could go to jail over this – and you don’t even know all the facts! And did you know that Owen punched Ryan in the face? I bet you’d side with your husband on that too, saying my kid deserved it.’

  There were too many pieces flying at me all at once. The sky cracked open with a sprinkle. ‘Calm down, Robin. Can you come in so we can sort this out? It’s about to pour out there.’

  I pushed the door wider for her, but she shook her head, took a step back, her entire body trembling.

  ‘No, I don’t want to be anywhere near you right now. It’s taking every ounce of self-control I have not to slap you across the face, Mackenzie. But I wouldn’t want to be arrested for assault, you know, because that’s what you do. Send your friends to jail and ruin their lives.’

  ‘I honestly didn’t know Owen did that. I swear. I never went to the police, and I can’t imagine that Aria would have without talking to me first about it. I still don’t think she knows—’

  I felt a presence behind me, then turned face-first into Owen’s chest. ‘That’s because Aria didn’t go to the cops. I did. Because I’m protecting my daughter.’ His voice was thick from sleep.

  Robin scoffed. ‘Protecting her? You’re putting her private life on public display so that you can pretend your little girl is still Miss Perfect. Wake up, Owen. Your princess is growing up, making her own choices, whether you approve or not. She’s not the victim here. My son is.’

  ‘Your son deserves to rot in prison, Robin. He’s a rapist, and that’s where rapists belong – either in jail, or dead.’

  ‘He didn’t rape her, you asshole! Have you even bothered to talk to your daughter about what happened? Or her part in it?’ Spittle flicked across my face as she screamed past my shoulder where Owen stood, stoic and smug.

  Always right. Always calm. Always watching and waiting for the right moment to belittle and crush his opponent. Usually that opponent was me, the emotional nag. Now it was Robin, the nag’s crazy best friend. Former best friend.

  When Owen said nothing, I turned to look at him, his eyes staring blankly back at Robin. When his gaze shifted in defeat, Robin seized her advantage.

  ‘You haven’t talked to her, have you? You probably don’t have a clue about what even happened that night, other than bits and pieces you pick up in overheard conversation, because you never really listen or care. Don’t act
like you’re protecting anyone but yourself and your self-deluded reality.’

  Robin pushed past me, her finger tautly aimed at Owen’s chest.

  ‘I know you, Owen.’ She jabbed him once, her voice a low growl. ‘I’ve known you for almost two decades. You pretend to be so holier-than-thou, acting the part of dedicated provider, but the reality is that you treat your family like garbage, you think even less of your friends, and you fight not because it’s right, but because you like winning. Even if you’re winning at your own lonely game. Even if winning costs my son his life. You’re a narcissistic, weak little man who bulldozes over others to make yourself feel big and powerful. Well, I won’t let you run over my family. I promise you, Owen, you won’t win this time. I will take you down … to hell, if I have to.’

  I wanted to applaud her. But I couldn’t, because I stood in an impossible place between my husband and my best friend.

  Robin glared at him for an uncomfortable moment, then turned to me.

  ‘And you – I pity you, Mackenzie. You’re dead to me. Don’t call me, don’t speak to me. We’re done.’

  ‘Robin, please—’ I begged, reaching out for her, but her back was already turned and she was halfway off the porch.

  ‘Let her go.’ Owen grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back. ‘You don’t need her.’

  I watched as the first person I had trusted completely blustered down my sidewalk and out of my life. We had history together – literally. It was freshman year in Humanities 101 class, and Robin Goldman picked the wobbly chair next to me. I was a Dean’s List student, studious and friendless. Robin was outgoing and thoughtful, the kind of girl who befriended the unlikeables. When I wanted to hide in the library, she would drag me to social events. When we collided, everything changed.

  She’d invited me to lunch after that first class together, and she wouldn’t accept no for an answer. I needed a friend like her. That day we made fun of our professors. We rated hot guys. We shared our meals. We laughed, we teased, we connected. That day we didn’t just become lunch buddies; that day we forged a friendship that would eventually be tested with fire. A literal fire. A fire that had destroyed my face. If we could get through that, certainly we could get through anything.

  ‘Hey, Robin,’ Owen called after her. She paused mid-stride but didn’t turn around. ‘You dare talk to me about protection? I once protected you and Ryan – at a price you’ll never be able to repay. I gave you back your life when it was taken from you, so don’t be so quick to judge me from your pedestal.’

  Robin twisted around, her scowl a strange blend of hostility and curiosity. ‘What the hell are you talking about? How did you protect us?’

  I grabbed his arm in a silent reminder to shut the hell up before he landed us both in prison. It wouldn’t do to orphan our daughter before she graduated high school.

  Ignoring Robin’s question, Owen slammed the door shut, and I slammed my hand into his chest.

  ‘Why would you say that? If she found out, you’d go to jail, Owen! We’d go to jail. That was a really stupid thing to say. You’re getting too big for your britches, you know. You’re not untouchable.’

  ‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that. You show respect when you talk to me. It’s your fault we’re in this mess to begin with.’

  ‘Hold your horses. My fault? You’re the one who went to the cops about our daughter having sex with her son. Way to escalate things.’

  ‘You’re the one who let Aria get out of control. You’re the mother; it’s your job to instill values in our child and to keep your psychotic friends in check.’

  ‘Robin’s not psychotic. In fact, I think she’s right about this.’

  ‘Why are you defending her after what she did to you? You look like that because of her.’

  My hand quivered under the instinct to hide the scar, but I forced it down. I would no longer hide my face. I would no longer resent what happened. Robin made a mistake that cost me my face. But I made a mistake that was costing her son. We all fucked up royally sometimes.

  All I knew was that I couldn’t take it anymore, the back-and-forth blame, always coming back to me. I screamed at the top of lungs until my throat ached and my vocal cords were raw. Years of abuse, of fights, of fingers on my neck, of bruises on my body, of manipulation and control … all of it flew out in one prolonged animalistic howl. I didn’t care if the whole neighborhood heard me. Let them hear, let Owen cringe with embarrassment. I wasn’t his mousy wife anymore. I was a lioness who’d found her roar.

  ‘That’s just it, Owen.’ My voice took on an unnatural growl as something grew inside me – boldness. ‘Aria’s not a child anymore. She’s growing up, and regardless of what happened with Ryan, that should be her decision to make – whether she presses charges or not. I don’t know the truth about whether it was consensual or not, but you shouldn’t force her into this or else you’re no better than Ryan by stripping away her voice.’

  I already knew I had said too much when his hand swung out, swiftly gripping my throat.

  ‘I warned you once, Mackenzie. This is your last warning.’

  As his hand tightened around my neck, I felt the embers of my courage come alive. I felt the phoenix rising from the ashes of a girl burned alive long ago. I wouldn’t let Owen win. I wouldn’t let him use Aria, or me, or Ryan, or Robin to stroke his fragile ego.

  His mouth was a breath away from mine, his words hot on my skin. Reaching up, I clawed at his right eye, raking my fingernails down his face. He screamed and let go, covering the red furrows with his palm.

  ‘You damn bitch!’ he screamed.

  I laughed in his face. ‘Aw, did you just curse? Well, well, well, so the high and mighty Owen Fischer has finally fallen down to earth with the rest of us!’

  He lunged for me, but I was quicker. I ran to the kitchen to grab my car keys and cell phone, then to the coat closet for my purse. I’d grab clothes later. I glanced out the kitchen window into the backyard where Aria flipped over on a striped beach towel, earbuds in her ears and oversized sunglasses shading her face. She’d be okay until I returned. Owen would never touch her; he never had.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Owen yelled, still protecting his face with one hand while reaching for me with the other.

  ‘Out! And don’t try to stop me or those buzzards out there will be picking at your body next.’

  I darted past him toward the front door, swung it open, and looked back at the life I was leaving behind. Nothing but a house of horrors.

  Standing on the porch, I shot a text to Aria, explaining I would be spending the night away to clear my head, but to contact me if she needed me. Owen huffed, unwilling to chase me. Owen didn’t chase. He controlled from his La-Z-Boy. But not any longer. ‘Fine, go. But the locks will be changed before you get home, so don’t bother coming back.’

  I didn’t plan to come back. Not now, not ever again.

  Chapter 31

  Robin

  SATURDAY EVENING

  By the time I got home my fists were no longer shaking with rage. My face was no longer flushed with fury. The hot emotions had ebbed, replaced by a placid resolve. I learned something today. Something that could clean up the mess that had been made of my life.

  I once protected you and Ryan – at a price you’ll never be able to repay.

  Owen Fischer had a secret, and I would unearth it and then bury him with it. A costly secret that had something to do with me and Ryan. But what could it possibly be?

  I wasn’t some naïve waif Owen could manipulate. I wasn’t his doormat of a wife he could wipe his dirty feet on. I was a smart, resourceful woman; hear me roar. And I would tear Owen limb from limb for destroying my son’s life.

  Ryan’s statement had been short, with Grant’s guidance. ‘Just tell them what happened as you remember it. No more, no less,’ Grant had advised. So Ryan did. Then it was over. I had imagined the interrogation would go on for hours, but then again, I watch too many crime shows.
Grant returned home with relief in his eyes, though when I pressed for details, he couldn’t get a read on what the detective had been thinking.

  ‘It’s just a matter of waiting it out at this point. You did good, son,’ Grant said as he patted Ryan on the back like he’d just made honor roll. With a somberness that broke my heart, Ryan headed to his bedroom and I hadn’t seen him since. That was hours ago.

  I reached for my glass of wine that still sat untouched on the coffee table, and downed it in one long gulp, allowing the tang to course through my veins and relax me. The house was blessedly quiet – a rare commodity for any family with kids – the foreboding calm broken only by the distant sound of Grant mowing the yard and the laughter of Lucas and Willow playing on the swing set.

  ‘Higher, higher!’ I heard Lucas yell while Willow pushed him. ‘I want to reach heaven!’

  I wondered if such a place even existed.

  I considered dusting or mopping or starting dinner, none of which I felt like doing. It was either busy myself with housework or ponder Ryan’s situation until my brain exploded. I was pretty sure my brain was already mush by now.

  After tummy time with Collette on the floor and sorting the mail on the kitchen counter, which consisted mostly of weekend ads for can’t-miss furniture deals and fast-food coupons, I put the kettle on to boil. The wine on an empty stomach wasn’t sitting right. A cup of tea would help me center myself, focus on how to get the information I needed to blackmail Owen, to figure out what he was hiding. Or there was still always Grant’s plan of poisoning the bastard.

  When the pot whistled, I poured a cup of green tea and let the leaves – and my brain – steep. If I thought that Mackenzie would side with me, I would have gone to her with my questions. Clearly she knew about whatever Owen did, but she’d protect her jerk of a husband even at the cost of her own soul. She was gutless and guileless, a deadly combination for a woman. Her submission made her weak, and her innocence made her passive. A woman afraid to get her hands dirty was already beaten.