pushed through the door and started across the backyard.
When she caught up, he had stopped at the edge of their lawn staring down at a wide, shallow hole where the syringe had dropped and at the old shovel lying next to it.
“Richard. Please. Tell me what—”
But he’d set off again, squeezing awkwardly through the hole in their fence and cutting through their neighbor’s yard, careful to circumnavigate any light bleeding from windows or beaming from porches.
Carly followed, unsure what else to do. Her husband seemed to have sunk into some kind of paranoid alternate reality as he crossed onto the property of one of the few neighbors they actually knew. Susie remained motionless with her cheek resting on his shoulder as he paused, looking around him with birdlike jerks of his head. Apparently satisfied that there was no army lurking in the shadows, he continued to a pickup that Carly recognized as the one that he occasionally borrowed to haul lab equipment.
Richard opened the driver’s door with his free hand, pulling the seat forward and laying Susie in the tiny backseat. Carly circled around the bed as he slipped behind the wheel. After a nervous glance toward the owner’s house, she climbed hesitantly into the passenger seat.
“What the hell are we doing?” she said as he grabbed the key from the visor and shoved it into the ignition.
“We’re getting out of here.”
“We can’t just leave. Detective Sands—”
“Sands?” he said, starting the engine and backing along the dirt track that led to the road. “He’s in on it.”
Carly fell silent, examining the side of his face in the gloom.
On their wedding day he’d been tanned and athletic, with a handsome, clean-shaven face and blue eyes that always hinted at the excitement he felt about the world and the things he could learn from it.
After Susie had been diagnosed, that excitement had dulled, but he’d soldiered on, somehow managing to continue to be all things to all people—to their daughter, to her, to the other kids and parents. The question of what he’d left for himself sometimes kept her awake at night.
She suspected he’d been having periodic panic attacks for at least a year, but he hid them well, and she found herself afraid to bring it up. She knew him better than anyone did, but still had never found a way to gauge how close he was to the edge.
How could she possibly understand what he was going through? She couldn’t save Susie—all she could do was love her. But his situation was completely different. He might be able to save her. And that glimmer of hope—that unfair responsibility— was slowly tearing him apart.
They dropped off the curb into the road, and he threw the vehicle into drive, accelerating up the empty street, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every few seconds.
“Do you have your cell on you?” he said.
“No. I—”
He nodded and dug his from his pocket, then threw it out the window.
“That phone had your whole life on it, and we just stole a car,” she said, concentrating on keeping her tone serene. Was this it? Was he finally in the throes of the breakdown that anyone else would have collapsed into years ago?
“Joey said I could borrow it anytime I want.”
“I don’t think he meant in the middle of the night without asking first.”
“What do you want me to do?” he said, his voice sounding like a shout in confines of the cab. “They’ll be able to track our car. Like they tracked Troy’s.”
Carly twisted around in her seat and looked down at Susie in the dim light, running the back of her hand gently across her sunken cheek. It wasn’t fair that she had to live like this. And that her husband—one of the few truly good people she’d ever met— should be destroyed by it.
“Who’s ‘they,’ Richard?”
He swerved toward an on-ramp, not answering until they were safely on the highway and he was satisfied that the road behind them was empty.
“I know you think
When she caught up, he had stopped at the edge of their lawn staring down at a wide, shallow hole where the syringe had dropped and at the old shovel lying next to it.
“Richard. Please. Tell me what—”
But he’d set off again, squeezing awkwardly through the hole in their fence and cutting through their neighbor’s yard, careful to circumnavigate any light bleeding from windows or beaming from porches.
Carly followed, unsure what else to do. Her husband seemed to have sunk into some kind of paranoid alternate reality as he crossed onto the property of one of the few neighbors they actually knew. Susie remained motionless with her cheek resting on his shoulder as he paused, looking around him with birdlike jerks of his head. Apparently satisfied that there was no army lurking in the shadows, he continued to a pickup that Carly recognized as the one that he occasionally borrowed to haul lab equipment.
Richard opened the driver’s door with his free hand, pulling the seat forward and laying Susie in the tiny backseat. Carly circled around the bed as he slipped behind the wheel. After a nervous glance toward the owner’s house, she climbed hesitantly into the passenger seat.
“What the hell are we doing?” she said as he grabbed the key from the visor and shoved it into the ignition.
“We’re getting out of here.”
“We can’t just leave. Detective Sands—”
“Sands?” he said, starting the engine and backing along the dirt track that led to the road. “He’s in on it.”
Carly fell silent, examining the side of his face in the gloom.
On their wedding day he’d been tanned and athletic, with a handsome, clean-shaven face and blue eyes that always hinted at the excitement he felt about the world and the things he could learn from it.
After Susie had been diagnosed, that excitement had dulled, but he’d soldiered on, somehow managing to continue to be all things to all people—to their daughter, to her, to the other kids and parents. The question of what he’d left for himself sometimes kept her awake at night.
She suspected he’d been having periodic panic attacks for at least a year, but he hid them well, and she found herself afraid to bring it up. She knew him better than anyone did, but still had never found a way to gauge how close he was to the edge.
How could she possibly understand what he was going through? She couldn’t save Susie—all she could do was love her. But his situation was completely different. He might be able to save her. And that glimmer of hope—that unfair responsibility— was slowly tearing him apart.
They dropped off the curb into the road, and he threw the vehicle into drive, accelerating up the empty street, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every few seconds.
“Do you have your cell on you?” he said.
“No. I—”
He nodded and dug his from his pocket, then threw it out the window.
“That phone had your whole life on it, and we just stole a car,” she said, concentrating on keeping her tone serene. Was this it? Was he finally in the throes of the breakdown that anyone else would have collapsed into years ago?
“Joey said I could borrow it anytime I want.”
“I don’t think he meant in the middle of the night without asking first.”
“What do you want me to do?” he said, his voice sounding like a shout in confines of the cab. “They’ll be able to track our car. Like they tracked Troy’s.”
Carly twisted around in her seat and looked down at Susie in the dim light, running the back of her hand gently across her sunken cheek. It wasn’t fair that she had to live like this. And that her husband—one of the few truly good people she’d ever met— should be destroyed by it.
“Who’s ‘they,’ Richard?”
He swerved toward an on-ramp, not answering until they were safely on the highway and he was satisfied that the road behind them was empty.
“I know you think
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