The Widow

CHAPTER 15

She’s harder.

There’s an edge to her that wasn’t there before. She tries to keep others from seeing it, but I see it. I know. She’s small and mean and doesn’t care about anything but her own pain.

She won’t stop.

She won’t ever stop.

Calling her isn’t easy. Hearing her voice. Hoping I didn’t slip up. She would pounce if I did.

Abigail.

She would treat me like a common criminal if she knew what I have done.

I hate the thought of trying to defend myself. Trying to explain what she will never let herself understand.

I don’t kill out of passion. I don’t get caught up in the moment and regret later what I’ve done.

I act quickly. Decisively. I capitalize on what’s going on around me.

I see things.

Everything.

I know how to be patient when I have to be. To act when I must.

Abigail can be my freedom if I don’t allow the thought of failure to undermine my courage.

I cannot write that script for myself.

“Abigail!”

I remember how Chris called his wife’s name.

“Tell her to be happy. Please. Tell her not to grieve too long for me.”

He’d always known he would have a short life. He lived each day to its fullest and never looked back, never indulged in self-pity.

I remember.

And I’ve never told her what her husband’s dying words were.

How could I?

Then she would know I killed him.

“Abigail…Abigail…”

I remember.

And now I must be patient. Calculating. Willing to capitalize on events.

Just as I was seven years ago.

As I had to be.

I remember.