She wondered what her husband’s secret might be. Even though Tex said he had no secrets, there must be something, for a worried look had stolen over his face when Michele had told them about the book her sister-in-law was writing. If he didn’t have secrets, why the worried look? She still wanted to believe him, though. After twenty-five years of marriage you’d think she knew this man. Knew everything about him. And yet. How well did you really know a person? Even couples who had been married for years still surprised each other. Things from their past suddenly came to light. Like secret second families or criminal offenses.
She didn’t think Tex was a criminal, though. The thought was laughable. And she didn’t think he had a second family in a different state either. A second wife, kids… Maybe this family had a dog instead of a pair of cats. And he wasn’t a doctor, surely, but maybe an itinerant trader? She glanced down at her hubby, then dismissed the thought once more. How could he have a second family if he had to see his patients every day. He simply didn’t have the opportunity.
But that her husband had a secret, of that she was certain. When she’d broached the subject he’d been dismissive first, then irritated, which was as much an admission of guilt as coming right out and saying what the big secret was.
She took her phone from the nightstand and checked the time. Ten to two. Christ. Wasn’t she ever going to be able to sleep? She’d once read that if you couldn’t sleep you shouldn’t stay in bed but get up and read something—preferably something tedious. That way your brain got distracted from whatever was bothering you and soon got tired, allowing you to switch off. Maybe she should do that now. She’d brought along a couple of the latest bestsellers. Though she knew that if she started reading she’d still be going strong by the time daybreak came. And then she’d be so tired all day she wouldn’t be able to enjoy their time together.
She turned once more, fluffed up her pillow and plunked her head down, willing sleep finally to come.
And that’s when she heard it.
A scream—somewhere nearby.
Immediately she poked her husband in the ribs.“Tex! Wake up!”
“Mhwhatsthatwhat?” muttered the doctor, smacking his lips.
“Did you hear that?” she said, and kept perfectly still.
“Hear what?”
“Shh!”
She listened intently, but all was quiet once more. Almost as if the night had swallowed up the scream and smothered it under a thick blanket. Or maybe she hadn’t heard a scream at all. Maybe it was all in her head. She had been thinking about a particularly successful horror novel she’d brought along to read.
“I don’t hear anything,” said Tex finally.
“I thought I heard a scream,” she said.
“Must be those dogs the Ona woman brought. Even though it said clearly on the invitation ‘No pets allowed.’” He turned over to his side. “There’s always one who can’t follow the rules, isn’t there?” And he promptly went back to sleep.
For a few more minutes Marge lay listening, but no more screams were forthcoming. And finally her eyes drooped closed, and before long, she fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of strange screams in the night, and rabid dogs tearing the flesh from human bones.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
If his wife thought Tex was enjoying a peaceful and unencumbered slumber, she was very much mistaken. While she was lying awake, so was he, only he didn’t feel the need to tell her. It was true he had been asleep, even though it had taken a while, but when she had prodded him in the ribs, he’d been rudely brought out of that hard-won slumber, and once he had, he found it hard to go back to sleep.
And so he lay awake, his arms supporting his head, while he watched his wife sleep. He should never have told Isobel. Then she wouldn’t have been able to put the things he told her in that stupid book of hers. But the woman was so easy to talk to. Maybe it was because of the things she’d gone through, but she had this way of putting you at ease, and extracting confidences from a person. He had always enjoyed talking to her. She was an attractive woman, of course. And in some ways a tragic person. After her husband had killed his brother, in circumstances that still weren’t completely clear to him, he’d fled the country, leaving his wife and daughter to fend for themselves in a hostile world.
Isobel had briefly been arrested, but released as soon as the authorities had been satisfied that she had nothing whatsoever to do with the dreadful business. Alison Droba was fourteen when her father disappeared from their lives, and Isobel had been forced to stay strong for her daughter’s sake, raising her as a single mother. Secretly she’d been driven to drink, hiding the habit from her daughter. A functioning alcoholic, in other words. Until Alison had gone off to college, and had turned her mom into an empty nester. This was when she’d thrown off the last inhibitions andhad descended into a hell of her own making.