Page 38 of The Vanishing Wife

She studied each photo in turn. Surveillance shots. Though the camera wasn’t particularly good quality. Almost like they’d been taken with a phone. A baggie fell from the pile. Containing a long dark hair. Elyse’s?

Because who else would’ve had access to this cabinet? Who else would’ve thought to use it as a hidden safe? Leigh set the photos aside and thrust her hand deeper into the cavity. Surfacing with a phone. She turned it over in her hand. It was an older model. Not Elyse’s or Wesley’s based on the models listed on their phone bill. His had been found in his slacks, and Ava was still equipped with hers. A sticky note fluttered to the sink. Six numbers written on the bright teal paper.

She hit the power button, and the phone came to life. Leigh angled the screen away from her face. She couldn’t risk getting locked out by the facial recognition and tapped in the six-digit code from the sticky note.

It worked. The operating system automatically dropped her into the last opened app. Instagram. And into a profile Leigh didn’t recognize. The young woman smiling back at her raised the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. “Who are you, Katie Rose, and why do you look so much like my friend?”

TWENTY-SIX

Gulf Shores, Alabama

Thursday, September 19

9:23 p.m.

She’d never killed anyone before.

Was it as easy as all those crime shows said it was?

Was she smart enough to get away with it?

Elyse supposed these were things she should’ve thought about before coming back to the trailhead. It was a big decision, taking someone’s life. But did she really have any other choice? Detective Moore had already written her off due to the concussion and breaking and entering into a private residence wouldn’t go unpunished. Elyse, she realized, had put herself in this position.

She navigated the trailhead in the dark. All too familiar with its sloping turns and dangers. Mere days ago, her nerves had gotten the best of her as she treaded this path. The possibility of predator attacks, of shadows consuming her alive, seemed silly now. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. Little things, really.

Tonight she was the predator.

The duffle bag cut into her shoulder. The pain had reduced itself to a dull ache now. It wasn’t heavy. Just uncomfortable. She’d had to keep her collection of tools light in case things took a wrong turn and she had to change her plans, but she’d prepared for this moment. The idea of it all backfiring in her face wasn’t a true concern. What mattered most was Ava.

That was why she was here. Ready to do the unimaginable. To protect her daughter and all the other girls out there who couldn’t yet protect themselves. Girls like Poppy Slater and Ruby Davis. Girls like Ava.

She’d lied to her daughter. Told her she was going out with a friend. It was her job to keep Ava safe, and there was nothing that would stop her from carrying out that duty as a mother. Everything had become clear as Elyse came up on the last turn before the dunes surrounding Samuel Thornton’s beach house. This was where he’d brought Poppy Slater. Where he’d most likely brought Ruby Davis. He’d targeted them. Used them and abused them. Then discarded them as easily as the plastic milk jug she’d found going through his trash. In the end, Poppy Slater hadn’t made it out alive. As for Ruby, there was still hope.

And Elyse would be the one to make sure he never hurt anyone again.

Stepping from the steady, reliant path, she crossed into the dunes, hidden from onlookers by the trees. There wouldn’t be many left this time of night. There was a metaphor in there somewhere about this current stage of her life. Leaving behind the old. Embracing the unknown and new. She’d always known she would be a mother. It was in her nature. Something she’d aspired to be. Her own mother had tried to convince her otherwise. Forget the kids. Live a life worth living. As though having children were the antithesis of a fulfilling life. But while it’d been hard at times, particularly the second time around, Elyse had never felt more herself than when her family needed her.

Elyse ducked behind one of the larger dunes, the duffle in the sand beside her. She’d changed her clothing from earlier. Black on black. An attempt to blend in and stay out of sight. She didn’t want Samuel Thornton to see her coming.

Movement honed her attention into the main living room. Her target hadn’t changed into his sleep shirt and shorts yet. He was still dressed in what she considered his work uniform: paint-stained jeans, undershirt, and a flannel over top. “There you are.”

Samuel Thornton was usually winding down in front of the TV about this time. He hadn’t deviated from his routine once all week. So what had changed? Elyse directed her attention beneath the house, to the storage room there, but the oversized pickup truck blocked her view. She had to get closer.

Sand penetrated her running shoes as she kept to the tree line, the ocean a familiar roar at the back of her mind. Like white noise. While the man on the other side of the windows couldn’t possibly see through to the outside, she wasn’t going to take any chances. Something had changed. Perhaps it was because the weekend was around the corner, and Samuel Thornton intended to take full advantage. Perhaps the broken safety wire on the second story balcony and the missing photos of Ruby Davis from his closet cubby had given her away. She didn’t know, and it really didn’t matter. She’d come to do a job, and she wasn’t leaving until it was finished.

The lights in the living room cut out. The entire house seemed to disappear in the darkness. The swish of a door opening spiked adrenaline through her veins, and Elyse froze misstep. Trying to blend into the tree line. In vain. An outline stepped onto the deck, lightly illuminated by the moon. One wrong turn on his head, and he’d have her. Elyse pressed herself into the dense foliage, earning a few scrapes in reward as Samuel Thornton pounded down the stairs. Keys jingled in his hand.

He was leaving. Taking her opportunity with him.

Headlights flooded the underside of the house, and the truck’s engine growled to life. Reverse lights cast a white glow directly at her, and all Elyse could think to do was pray Samuel Thornton didn’t actually use his rearview mirror to back out of the driveway.

The rear end of the truck came within inches of her pelvic bone, but there was no way to push herself deeper into the trees. Before she had a chance to find out what it was like to become a pancake instead of make them for Ava on Saturday mornings, Samuel Thornton shoved the truck into Drive and headed away from the house.

“Damn it.” The duffle bag seemed heavier right then. Making her fully aware of how much of her energy fear had burned through in a matter of seconds. Her body tried to convince her she’d run another half marathon. Something she’d promised herself she’d never do again after her calf had seized up in the middle of the last race. Elyse peeled herself from the sharp grip of the trees, facing off with the beach house.

The days leading up to her assault were still cloudy, but moments of clarity came through in pieces. Samuel Thornton’s work schedule, his license plate and registration details, snacks he preferred when decompressing in front of the TV after a long day in the sun—she’d catalogued them all before. She’d been watching him even before her fall.

There were other details too. His favorite grocery store. The pizza place he ordered in from once a week. The brand of boots he preferred. She remembered a lot of it now, though there were still details she couldn’t put into place. At this point, there was no guarantee she’d ever get her full memory back.