An Anonymous Girl - Greer Hendricks Page 0,125

don’t know how I’m going to protect myself.

I ease off the phone after telling them again that I love them.

“Can you give Becky a big hug from me?” I say. “I promise I’ll call you guys later.” I hesitate before I press Call, hoping it’s the truth.

After I hang up, I want to curl up under the covers and absorb everything that has just happened. So much of my life has been constructed around a fallacy; my own assumptions imprisoned me.

But I can’t dwell on any of that now.

Instead, I brew a cup of strong coffee and start to pace, forcing myself to focus. Maybe I should leave the city tonight. There must be a rental car place that’s open on Christmas; I could start driving to Florida.

Or I could stay and try to fight Dr. Shields.

Those are the only two choices I can see.

I try to think like Dr. Shields would: logically and methodically.

Step one: I need to see the recording, because how do I even know it exists? And if it does, I’m not sure I believe that I’m identifiable on it. I wore dark clothing, and I didn’t turn on any lights in the town house.

Still, it may not be safe to go to her house. I have no idea what she’s planning.

Step two: I need to put safeguards into effect. I actually have a few already, I realize. Noah will know the whole story when he reads my letter. And I’ve called the investigator; if I get cornered, I can show Dr. Shields the number on my cell phone to prove it. I can’t picture her being physically violent, but I want to be prepared just in case.

But most important, I’m finally holding some of Dr. Shields’s secrets.

Is that enough?

CHAPTER

SIXTY-SEVEN

Tuesday, December 25

You are precisely on time, Jessica.

Still, you are made to wait for a full ninety seconds after you press the town house buzzer.

When the door is opened, your appearance comes as a surprise, and not a welcome one.

By now you should be floundering, on the verge of a breakdown.

Instead, you stride into the town house looking more confident and appealing than ever.

You wear all black: Your coat hangs open to reveal a high-neck dress that hugs your curves, and leather boots that hit above your knee. They give you an extra three inches of height, so that we are eye to eye.

You take in my appearance as well: a pure white wool knit dress, with diamonds at my ears and neck.

Do you notice the symbolism? The colors we chose are yin and yang. They represent beginnings—including Christenings and weddings—and endings, such as funerals. Black and white also are opponents in a chess game. Fitting, given what will occur shortly.

Rather than wait for my signal on how to proceed, you lean forward and kiss my cheek. “Thank you for having me, Lydia,” you say. “I brought you a little present.”

Aren’t you full of surprises? You are clearly up to something. Using my first name is a transparent attempt at a power move.

If you are trying to throw me off balance, it is going to take a lot more than this.

Your lips are curved into a smile, but they quiver ever so slightly. You are not as tough as you pretend.

It is almost disappointing how easy it is to parry with you. “Come inside.”

You shrug out of your coat and hand it to me. As if you expect me to wait on you.

You are still holding the silver package tied with a red bow.

It’s unclear what is going on, but you will need to be put in your place quickly.

“Let’s go to the library,” you are told. “Drinks and hors d’oeuvres are waiting.”

“Sure,” you say lightly. “You can open my gift there.”

Someone who does not know you well would not see through your bluster.

You are allowed to lead the way. This will give you the illusion of control, and make what comes next that much more satisfying.

As you step over the threshold into the library, you gasp.

You are not the only one delivering surprises today, Jessica.

You stand there, blinking, as if you cannot quite believe what you see.

The man on the love seat stares back at you in stunned silence.

Did you truly expect me to celebrate the holiday without my husband, the one you claim is a hundred percent devoted to me?

“Why is she here?” Thomas finally blurts. He rises as his head swivels from you to me.

“Darling, didn’t I mention that my subject Jessica would be

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