Chapter 4 - THE SECOND ATTEMPTRyan had planned a romantic getaway.
At least, that was the version he gave me.
On Monday evening, he arrived home carrying Thai food and an expression that almost made me remember why I had once loved him.
“You're exhausted,” he said. “I'm stealing you tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“Surprise.”
I stirred noodles around my plate.
“Ryan, I have work.”
“One night.”
“Where are we going?”
“Blue Ridge.”
I let silence hang.
Then smiled.
“That sounds nice.”
His shoulders relaxed.
It frightened me how badly he wanted me to agree.
Later that night, I called Danielle from the bathroom with the shower running.
“You cannot go,” she said.
“If I refuse now, he knows something is wrong.”
“Then let him know.”
“We still don't have proof he knows about the snake.”
“We have drugged champagne.”
“Which he can claim he didn't tamper with.”
“Amanda, listen to yourself.”
“I am.”
“What do you need before this becomes enough?”
I didn't immediately answer.
Because there was a truth I hadn't admitted.
I wanted Ryan to confess.
Not because the police needed it.
Because I did.
Eleven years of marriage could apparently be erased by a signature, a mistress, an insurance policy, and a rattlesnake.
Part of me needed to hear the words from his mouth.
I needed certainty so complete that I would never wake up five years later and wonder whether some impossible explanation existed.
Marcus eventually agreed to a controlled version of the trip.
He hated it.
So did Danielle.
But local law enforcement had now been quietly informed.
I wore a concealed recording device provided under legal guidance.
Officers would remain nearby.
I was never supposed to be alone beyond their response range.
Tuesday afternoon, Ryan drove us north.
The Blue Ridge Mountains rose around us beneath a clear autumn sky.
He played the playlist from our wedding.
That detail nearly broke me.
“You remember this?” he asked.
“Of course.”
Van Morrison played softly through the speakers.
Ryan reached across the console and squeezed my hand.
“We used to be good, Amanda.”
I turned toward him.
“Used to be?”
His jaw tightened.
“You know what I mean.”
“No. Tell me.”
He stared at the road.
“Before everything got complicated.”
“Northstar?”
“Work. Money. IVF. Mom and Dad. Everything.”
I looked out the window.
“Did you resent me?”
“What?”
“For the company doing well?”
He laughed.
“Where is this coming from?”
“Just wondering.”
“No.”
Too fast.
Then he added, “Maybe sometimes I resented how little you needed me.”
That was the first honest thing he'd said in months.
“I needed you.”
“You needed someone. That's different.”
His words hurt because I could understand them.
Not excuse them.
But understand them.
When Northstar grew, I became busier.
After our miscarriages, I retreated into work.
Ryan did too.
We stopped talking.
Then apparently he found Sabrina.
And Kristina found debt.
Still, none of that led naturally to murder.
The cabin was beautiful.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked a forested valley.
Behind the property, a narrow trail wound toward an overlook.
Marcus had been right.
Beyond a wooden railing was a steep drop.
Ryan opened wine.
I refused.
“My migraine medication.”
He nodded.
For dinner he grilled steaks.
We talked about harmless things.
By nine, rain began tapping against the windows.
“Let's go outside,” Ryan said.
“In the rain?”
“It's barely raining.”
“Why?”
“The view.”
“At night?”
He smiled.
“You ask a lot of questions lately.”
A pulse started in my throat.
“Maybe you give strange answers.”
For several seconds, something hard passed between us.
Then Ryan laughed.
“Come on.”
He put on his jacket.
I followed him outside.
The recording device beneath my sweater felt suddenly enormous.
The woods were dark.
The path was slick.
We walked toward the overlook.
Ryan moved behind me.
I heard his breathing.
My entire body screamed not to turn my back on him.
At the railing, I stopped.
The valley below was almost invisible.
“Beautiful,” Ryan said.
“It is.”
He stood beside me.
“Do you remember our honeymoon?”
“Yes.”
“We were happy.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to us?”
I turned.
“You tell me.”
His expression changed.
Sadness.
Real sadness.
For one dangerous second, I saw my husband again.
Then he said, “You became impossible to reach.”
“And Sabrina was easier?”
Ryan froze.
The rain seemed suddenly louder.
“What?”
I looked directly at him.
“Sabrina.”
His face emptied.
“You've been following me?”
“No.”
“Who told you?”
“So it's true?”
“Amanda—”
“How long?”
He stepped back.
“This isn't the place.”
“This seems like exactly the place.”
His hands clenched.
“You don't understand what's happening.”
“Then explain it.”
“Not here.”
“You brought me here.”
He looked toward the cabin.
Then back at me.
“Let's go inside.”
I didn't move.
“Is the baby yours?”
His face answered before his mouth did.
I felt tears sting my eyes.
Not because I was surprised.
Because hearing nothing was still an answer.
“I'm sorry,” he said.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Almost a year.”
I nodded slowly.
“And your mother?”
His eyes sharpened.
“What about her?”
“The debt.”
Now the mask broke.
Not completely.
But enough.
“How do you know about that?”
“There it is.”
“Amanda, listen to me.”
“No. You listen.”
My heartbeat was pounding.
“Your mother is buried in debt. You've been moving money. Your mistress is pregnant. And suddenly my twenty-five-million-dollar life insurance policy becomes very interesting.”
His face went pale.
“You think I want you dead?”
“I think your mother put a rattlesnake in my bed.”
Ryan stared at me.
Then looked away.
That was all I needed.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You knew.”
“I knew she was going to scare you.”
I almost laughed.
“Scare me?”
“She said she had a plan.”
“A venomous snake?”
“I didn't know that was what she meant.”
“Did you text her?”
He went silent.
I stepped closer.
“Did you ask whether she'd taken care of it?”
His eyes widened.
“How did you see that?”
“Answer me.”
Ryan dragged both hands through his hair.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Answer me!”
“Yes!”
The word echoed through the trees.
“Yes, I texted her.”
My knees weakened.
“What did you think she was taking care of?”
He turned away.
“Amanda, we were desperate.”
“We?”
“Mom made mistakes. I tried to fix them. It got out of control.”
“So you decided to kill me?”
“No!”
His voice cracked.
“No, I never agreed to that.”
“Then why was my champagne drugged?”
He stared at me.
The silence lasted too long.
“Ryan.”
“I didn't put anything in your champagne.”
“Who did?”
He didn't answer.
Then I understood.
“Kristina was in the house before I got home.”
His eyes closed.
“She said she would handle everything.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“You booked this cabin.”
“Because she told me to get you away for a couple days while she figured out the financial situation.”
“A cabin beside a cliff?”
“I didn't choose it because of the cliff.”
I searched his face.
He looked frightened.
But whether he was afraid for me or for himself, I couldn't tell.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
MOM.
Neither of us moved.
It rang again.
“Answer it,” I said.
“No.”
“Answer it.”
“Amanda—”
“Put it on speaker.”
Ryan's hands shook.
He answered.
“Mom.”
Kristina's voice came through.
“Is she asleep?”
Ryan looked at me.
“No.”
A pause.
“Why not?”
“She didn't drink the wine.”
My blood chilled.
Kristina's voice hardened.
“Ryan.”
“I told you this was insane.”
My entire body went rigid.
There.
A confession.
Not complete.
But enough.
Kristina continued.
“You said you would do what needed to be done.”
“No. I said I'd fix the money.”
“And how exactly are you planning to do that now? Sabrina's child will be here in five months. The auditors are coming. Charles is suspicious. If Amanda discovers—”
“She already knows.”
Silence.
Not a breath.
Then Kristina asked, very calmly:
“Where is she?”
Ryan looked at me.
I stepped closer to the phone.
“Right here, Kristina.”
Another silence.
Then she laughed softly.
“Amanda.”
Her composure returned instantly.
“This must look very strange.”
“You put a rattlesnake in my bed.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“I watched you.”
“No, darling. You saw me removing one.”
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Because I never told you where I was standing.”
Kristina stopped talking.
Ryan closed his eyes.
I almost smiled.
For the first time, she had made a mistake.
Then headlights appeared through the trees.
A vehicle was coming up the driveway.
Ryan turned.
“Who is that?”
I knew Marcus and the officers were supposed to remain farther down the road.
The headlights stopped near the cabin.
A car door opened.
Ryan's face drained of color.
“Mom?”
Kristina had arrived.
And she wasn't alone.
A second person stepped from the passenger side.
Charles Bellamy.
Ryan's father.
He looked furious.
Behind me, through the darkness, I saw another pair of headlights approaching.
Police.
Kristina saw them too.
May you like
Her face changed.
And for the first time since I had caught her beside my bed, she looked afraid.
Related Stories
