…until I’m submerged in utter darkness.
* * *
Elliot
“Where the fuck is my wife?” I yell into the phone as my Maserati peels out of the garage.
“Home,” Paddington answers in his usual blasé tone, apparently unperturbed by my profanity.
“You sure? She’s not answering.” And Jana said she left work an hour ago.
“Quite certain. I tracked her phone, and I know she took it with her today.”
His records would show where she’s been all day. Paddington’s very thorough.
I hang up and dial 911.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” comes a professional male voice.
“I need you to send a couple of patrol cars.” I give them my address.
“What is the problem, sir?”
“My wife. I think she’s in danger.”
“Think? What—”
Damn it. I don’t have time for this bullshit. “Just send somebody over. Please!”
I drive as fast as I can. I’m almost to my building. It’s a small relief when I see the main entrance. I’m out of the car instantly, tossing my keys to the dumbfounded security guard outside. “Move it if you need to!”
A couple is about to enter into an elevator. I push them out of the car. “Sorry. Take the next one!” I yell as I press the close button repeatedly.
My hands start to shake, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
The elevator pings, and I open my eyes. Panic surges; the door is ajar. Flowers are scattered on the floor along with some paper money, the couch is skewed and my wife’s pumps are lying haphazardly in the living room.
I rush inside. “Belle!” I cry out, searching. She’s nowhere on the first level.
I take the stairs three at a time to the second, where I hear water splashing on the pool deck. I run out. Broken glass litters the side of the pool. The ground is smeared with blood, and I make out two bodies in the water.
Without any hesitation, I dive in. A stroke later, I’m over Dennis. Inhaling deeply, I wrap my arm around his neck and pull hard. Belle’s face comes out of the water, but she’s not gasping for air.
No, no, no. I can’t be too late.
Dennis struggles, but he’s no match for me. I’m fresher, and adrenaline-fueled panic gives me extra strength. My fingers dig into his sopping hair, and I yank his head back, give him a vicious right hook to the jaw and push him under. A killing rage sears through me, and I see the son of a bitch through a red haze. This is the animal who raped my wife when she was fifteen and pinned all the crap that went wrong with his life on her. Scum like this deserves to die a horrible dea—
Something brushes against my arm. I flinch and see Belle’s red hair spread out around me.
It snaps me back to reality. What the hell am I doing? Killing Dennis will only make me a murderer, and won’t do a thing to help my wife.
I leave him floating and drag Belle out of the water. My heart is in my throat, panic and denial rising. She’s not moving, and her skin feels so, so cold. When she’s on the ground, I finally notice blood seeping from a gash on her head. “My god, my god.” She’s not breathing, she’s deathly pale, and she’s not breathing.
I get on my knees and start CPR. I dimly notice uniformed police officers coming to the pool.
“Hands in the air!” one of them yells. He’s holding a gun trained on me.
I look up. “Help me. My wife. Please. She’s not breathing.”