“The police… already know,” I wheezed, lifting the phone just high enough for him to see the glowing screen.
Daniel’s smile vanished. His face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.
“You bitch!” he screamed.
He threw his entire weight against the door. The wicker hamper crushed into splinters. The force slammed the door into my shoulder, sending a bolt of agonizing pain down my spine. I was thrown backward onto the cold tile, losing my grip on Noah.
The phone flew from my hand, skittering across the floor and sliding directly under the clawfoot bathtub.
“Ma’am! Ma’am! We hear him! Units are turning onto your street now!” the operator’s voice echoed faintly from beneath the tub, but it sounded like it was underwater. My vision was tunneling. Black spots flared at the edges of my sight. The poison was shutting my body down. My muscles felt like lead; I couldn’t lift my arms.
Daniel stepped into the bathroom.
He looked immaculate compared to the horror on the floor. His crisp blue button-down shirt was barely wrinkled. He looked down at me and Noah with an expression of profound disgust, as if we were a pair of spilled drinks on an expensive rug.
Behind him, Vanessa hovered in the doorway, her hands pressed over her mouth, her eyes darting frantically around the room. “Daniel, we have to go! If she called them, they’re coming! Let’s just take the money and run!”
“Not until I get that phone,” Daniel growled. “If there’s a recording, the insurance won’t pay out. The whole point of this was the payout, Vanessa! I’m not leaving empty-handed.”
He knelt down, his expensive leather shoes stepping right into a puddle of Noah’s spilled bathwater. He reached out to grab my hair, pulling my head back brutally. I gasped, a cry of pain escaping my lips.
“Where is it?” he demanded, shaking my head. “Where did it roll?”
I looked past him, my fading vision focusing on my son. Noah wasn’t moving. His eyes were closed, his face dangerously pale, a thin line of white foam forming at the corner of his lips.
No. No, please. Take me, just let him live.
A surge of primal, maternal adrenaline flared through my dying nervous system. It overrode the paralysis. It overrode the pain.
With a guttural scream, I drove my fingernails into Daniel’s face, dragging them down his cheek. I felt his skin tear, warm blood instantly coating my fingers.
