His wife was indestructible.
Simon helped Clara move the three other women further away from the fire. He’d parked his car far enough away there was no danger of it catching fire from the trailer. Clara was parked even further back.
“Be careful with her,” Clara told Simon as he bent to pick Laura up. “I injected a sedative to help with the pain.” When Simon met his housekeeper’s gaze with a questioning look, she shrugged. “Sometimes Mrs. Morgan has trouble sleeping. I prefer to be prepared.”
Simon considered Clara might have brought the sedative with other purposes in mind as well.
Finally, when they were between the two cars and clear of the fire, Clara set Joyce down where the snow wasn’t as thick. Joyce hadn’t said a word as they moved, but now she cleared her throat and doubled over in a string of raspy coughs.
“Are you all right?” Clara asked Joyce as she bent down to bring them face to face.
Joyce coughed again. Simon heard the rattling of phlegm in her lungs.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Repeating only convinced Simon that Joyce wasn’t. Her skin was growing pale and her hands trembled as she raked them through her hair.
She tried to take a deep breath, but it ended in another fit of coughs.
He sat down next to Joyce. Rocking back and forth helped his head settle into firmer thoughts. “What took you so long?” Simon asked.
“I was nearly killed,” Joyce snapped, and then doubled over to catch her breath.
“Not you. Clara. I called you just as I left the police station. What took you so long to get here?”
Clara was silent, staring out into the darkness.
“Clara?” Joyce asked, and in those two syllables Simon realized how full his mistake was.
How long had it been since he’d watched Clara and Joyce together? He’d been avoiding home, working from the office, drinking from the office.
He thought about the soup Joyce made. Had she made it? He pictured Clara standing at the stove, wishing him dead while she stirred in the poison, all so she and Joyce could be together, undisturbed, in the big, beautiful house they’d shared. The three of them.
Clara turned from where she’d been staring. She locked her eyes onto Simon.
“I had to see my cousin.”
And then she pointed the gun, took a breath, and let Simon give a little prayer of thanks that this nightmare was over.
“Stop!” Joyce shouted.
“Do it!” Simon called out at the same time.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE JOYCE
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Morgan. I misunderstood.” Clara lowered the gun.
Joyce couldn’t catch her breath. “Why would you think I wanted you to kill Simon?”
Clara looked away. Flames danced in the dark pupils of her eyes. “Like I say, I misunderstand.”
Joyce realized her mistake instantly. Her attempts to keep Simon under her control, the help she’d requested from Clara. Clara would have thought it was because Joyce hated her husband. But Joyce had done it from a place of desperate love. A love she couldn’t live without.
Another roar sounded in the night. Not low and thunderous, but a high-pitched wail. Blue and red lights bounced against the trunks of trees.
The police were here. And fire trucks and an ambulance. Someone must have spotted the smoke from the fire and called it in.
Clara offered to drive away right now with Joyce, along the back trails. She had another cousin, one who was a doctor back in Croatia. They could get Joyce drugs, new lungs, a new life.
“I don’t want any of that.” She looked at Simon. He nodded back at her.
She reached out and grabbed Clara’s hand.
“Thank you for coming to save us,” she told her only friend.
She took the gun from Clara. Joyce didn’t have to fight against her wounds.
It fell from Clara’s grip with ease. Trust.
She couldn’t let anyone hurt Simon. If they went back to their life, Joyce could never be certain Clara wouldn’t try and do it again. That there wouldn’t be another misunderstanding.
She gave one last look at Clara. In her mind, she whispered those words she so rarely allowed herself to feel. I’m sorry, she thought.
In that moment of weakness, Simon grabbed the gun and shot Clara himself.
It was only through some strange law of physics that Joyce could hear the shouted commands of the police officers above her screams.
They’d seen everything. They’d seen her husband kill a woman in cold blood.
Just to get away from his wife.
