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My hands began to tremble in earnest then, not from fear exactly, although that was there, too, but from the sheer impossibility of it. I couldn’t wrap my mind around how someone had done this…how they’d found out.

I knew logically that whoever had left me that note last week had known something, but I was having trouble comprehending how the life I’d run from…the life I’d buried and legally erased…had been nailed to the wall here like a trophy.

On the other side of the country. In the very town I’d accidentally crashed into.

My gaze drifted again, helplessly, to the neighboring wall of clippings where newspaper headlines of Blackwood’s crimes hung prominently featured.

There was one that didn’t belong.

The words Boston Tribune blared out at me like some sort of foreign object.

My eyes snagged on it, skimmed it, then stopped cold as the words arranged themselves into meaning.

Wife Hacks Lawyer Husband to Death.

The room tilted, and I staggered back a step, bile rising up to choke me as the world narrowed to that single line of ink.

“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.”

“Oh,” a voice said lightly behind me. “You’re still here.”

I flinched and spun to where Peggy stood in the doorway to the side hall, a clipboard tucked under her arm and a soft smile on her face. “Honey,” she said, concern threading through her cheer as her smile faded, “are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A ghost.

The words landed like a defibrillator charge, searing through my chest and shocking me wide awake, every nerve firing at once. I shook my head uselessly because there were no words that could explain this, and then…I bolted.

The door slammed open under my hand, and sunlight assaulted me as I stumbled out onto the sidewalk, heaving in gulps of air like somehow that could cure me.

“Sienna?” Peggy called after me, her voice trailing with confusion. “Sienna, wait!”

I didn’t look back. I kicked off my heels, and I took off, barefoot on the concrete.

I had to get my car.

And if it was still undrivable, I’d find another way.

I just had to leave.

Mack’s shop was only a few blocks away, but it felt like miles as I took off down the street, my thoughts scattering and reforming around one frantic truth.

I couldn’t stay here.

And as I ran…it all came back. What really had happened that night.

I crouch behind the bedroom door, the darkness pressing in close like an old friend I never wanted back. Every breath hurts, and I’m careful not to breathe too deep. Three cracked ribs will do that to you. My nose is swollen shut on one side, and even though he pushed it back into place last night when he realized how much he messed up the face he loves so much…I doubt it will ever be the same.

“Sienna, where are you?” he calls from somewhere downstairs.

I smile, thinking how confused he’ll be that dinner isn’t ready yet. He’ll just come home from work, and it’s always there….especially after the reminder he gave me yesterday.

I listen as he walks up the stairs to change out of his work clothes. He won’t try and find me until after. Shirt first, then the belt, the one that left welts across my back more times than I can count.

It’s his favorite.

Squeak. I grin at the sound of him stepping onto the top step.

Come on, honey. I’m waiting for you.