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He paused, waiting for her to say something, but she stayed silent.
Shaking his head, he started to leave the kitchen before coming to
a stop. “Thank you for dinner,” he whispered.
In the living room, she heard him tell the kids it was getting late,
heard the front door open with a squeak. He closed the door softly
behind him and the house was suddenly quiet, leaving her alone
with her thoughts.
32
Kevin was having trouble staying between the lines on the
highway. He’d wanted to keep his mind sharp, but his head had
begun to pound and he’d been sick to his stomach, so he’d
stopped at a liquor store and bought a bottle of vodka. It numbed
the pain, and as he sipped it through a straw, all he could think
about was Erin and how she’d changed her name to Katie.
The interstate was a blur. Headlights, double pinpricks of white,
rose in intensity as they approached from the opposite direction
and then vanished when they passed him. One after another.
Thousands. People going places, doing things. Kevin driving to
North Carolina, heading south to find his wife. Leaving
Massachusetts, driving through Rhode Island and Connecticut.
New York and New Jersey. The moon rose, orange and angry
before turning white, and crossed the blackened sky above him.
Stars overhead.
Hot wind blew through the open window and Kevin held the
wheel steady, his thoughts a jigsaw of mismatched pieces. The
bitch had left him. She’d abandoned the marriage and left him to
rot and believed she was smarter than he was. But he’d found her.
Karen Feldman had crossed the street and he’d learned that Erin
had a secret. But not anymore. He knew where Erin lived, he
knew where she was hiding. Her address was scribbled on a piece