Chapter 6 - The Trap is Set
Chloe stared down at the sapphire resting on her palm, her lower lip trembling violently. The wind whipped her long brown hair across her face, but she didn't dare move to tuck it behind her ear.
"What... what do you mean?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rustle of the trees.
"Mark told me he was going to the hardware store," I said, checking my watch. It had been thirty-five minutes. He would be pulling into the driveway any minute now. "He thinks he’s safe. He thinks I’m a gullible, exhausted nurse who will believe whatever comforting lie he feeds me. But I’m done playing the fool."
I reached out, my fingers gently closing around Chloe’s trembling hand, forcing her fingers to curl shut around the pendant. I pulled her hand down, pocketing the necklace into the front pocket of my cardigan.
"You want out of this mess?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. "You want to prove you aren't just some gullible pawn in Mark’s game? Then you're going to help me back him into a corner he can never, ever talk his way out of."
Before Chloe could answer, the low, familiar rumble of Mark’s SUV echoed down the street. Headlights swept across the front lawn as his vehicle turned into our driveway, crunching slowly over the gravel.
Panic seized Chloe’s face. She instinctively took a step back toward the edge of the porch, looking around wildly like a trapped animal. "He's back! Oh god, he's back—I have to go—"
"No," I said, grabbing her forearm with a grip of iron. "You are not running away this time. You are going to stand right here, look him in the eye, and watch the man you thought loved you look at his own destruction."
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Mark’s SUV shifted into park, and the engine died. The car door opened, and Mark stepped out onto the driveway, carrying a small brown paper bag from the hardware store under one arm. He was smiling, relaxed, humming softly to himself as he walked up the front walkway—right up until he cleared the corner of the porch and stopped dead in his tracks.
The color drained entirely from Mark’s face, leaving him looking like a corpse in daylight. The paper bag slipped from his fingers, hitting the concrete with a dull thud as a brass sink valve rolled out across the welcome mat.
