little red hen says she’ll do it herself. When it comes time to harvest the wheat, no one will help her. She tells them she will do it herself. Finally, when it comes time to eat the bread that she’s made from the wheat, everyone wants some, but she says that she will eat it herself.
Stephanie has flipped the pages to the end, as if expecting something more. But there’s nothing else. She turns to him, her face grim.
‘She’s just trying to mess with us,’ Patrick says. But he knows what she’s doing, and it chills him to the core. Erica is sending him a message, and it couldn’t be more clear. I’ll do it myself.
The following evening, Wednesday, Erica is walking to work at Hillcrest Hospital in Newburgh, where she is an administrative assistant three days a week. She really should have gone back to school, settled into something worthwhile. But she’s always been restless, not able to stick to anything long enough. Always looking for some quicker, easier way to make money. She’s on the night shift, and it’s already dark. The hospital is not far from her apartment, and she enjoys being alone with her thoughts. She always has so much to think about.
Erica is walking along the edge of the service road that leads to the back entrance to the hospital – there’s no pavement – and her thoughts turn to choices she’s made. She has no husband to support her. She gave her only child up for adoption. It had been a practical decision, and a financial one, and not difficult to make. Erica had leaned on the eager, well-to-do couple a little. And then a little more. It was all done very quietly. They were happy to pay.
She wasn’t ready to be a mother. How was Erica, just twenty-two, supposed to raise a child on her own? When in truth, she’d never really considered whether she even wanted children? She knows now that she doesn’t – she’s not the nurturing type. It surprises her, how little interest she has in her own child.
She walks briskly along the dark, deserted stretch of road with her head down, engrossed in her thoughts, earbuds in, listening to music. Suddenly she senses something, hears the sound of acceleration behind her. She turns to look and sees the dark, menacing shape of a car bearing down on her at high speed, its headlights off. Acting on pure instinct, she dives into the ditch at the side of the road, landing hard on her side and rolling, as she hears the car speed away.
She lies in the ditch, panting, her heart beating wildly. She sits up slowly, rubbing her shoulder. She’s shaken but unhurt. That was close.
Maybe, she thinks, suddenly afraid, maybe she’s pushed Patrick too hard. He’s made his choice. She’s fucking blown it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
IT’S LATE, AND Stephanie has Jackie in her arms, the baby’s face red and bawling and covered in mucus and tears. Her little body is hot, even in just a diaper and a light T-shirt. Stephanie is sweating, too, from holding her against her chest for so long. She talks to Jackie, jiggling her as she carries her around the living room, but the baby will not be soothed. If they try to put the babies down, they cry even more frantically, and neither she nor Patrick can stand it. Patrick has Emma in his arms and he’s walking her around the hall and in and out of the kitchen. Night after night they do this, and it’s wearing them down. They can’t even speak to each other through the noise, but maybe that’s a good thing. Stephanie doesn’t want to speak to her husband right now.
She’s angry. At him, at the situation. She’s so tired she can’t think straight. She’s generally a very rational person, but she hardly recognizes herself any more.
She doesn’t believe that Patrick killed his first wife deliberately. Stephanie knows him. It’s an outrageous claim. If he really was in love with Erica, like she says, then why wouldn’t he just leave Lindsey, like Erica claims she wanted? That’s what anyone would do. There’d be no reason to kill her.
Except – there was going to be a baby, and supporting a young family you’ve left is very expensive. And there was that insurance money.
She goes wearily around and around the living room, the thoughts going around and around her mind, just as wearily. Erica is a blackmailer, a cold-blooded liar. But