Tuesday, 4:40 p.m., Greenwich Point

Jake

Greenwich Point is a scenic 147-acre peninsula that juts out into the Long Island Sound, affording impressive views of Long Island and, at the westernmost point, the skyline of Manhattan.

The approach along Shore Avenue takes me past some of the most affluent neighborhoods in the state; each road here is private, every cul-de-sac an enclave protected from through-traffic by small white picket-fence barriers. Architecturally, the homes range from quaint Queen Anne Victorians to sprawling Shingle-Style new constructions, some with expansive water views.

Judging from the traffic, which is slowly snaking its way along Tod’s Driftway, Greenwich Point was packed earlier today. The parking lot is still full, with families scrambling to leave ahead of the approaching storm.

My shoulders tense as I step out of the car. It’s hard to miss Kristy, even on the crowded boardwalk. She’s wearing a bright red gingham sundress, barefoot and looking very much at home on the beach, and for a moment, I picture her as a teenager, playing with her friends in the California surf. What would she be like today if she’d chosen to stay in that life? If she hadn’t gone to New York with dreams of becoming a model? If she’d never met her fucking psycho husband?

Maybe she’d look the way she does right now, beautiful face all lit up when she sees me. She waves, looking relieved I’m here. Did she really think I’d stand her up?

When I reach her though, I notice something else in her expression. Something unsettled. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathes out, instantly brightening – like an actress adjusting her emotions for the camera.  “Never better. See…” She beams, pointing to her forehead. “I can wear my hair up again without showing all those wrinkles.

“Like you ever had any,” I say, wondering if she’s had a chance to read the morning papers. That would explain the edginess. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks!” She stands on her tiptoes to give me a kiss, lips lingering just long enough to remind me of last weekend. “Wow. I didn’t realize how much I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” I try to avoid her eyes, but it’s too late. Judging from her knowing smile, she’s seen the craving written there.

“So…” She slips on her sandals as the first fat raindrops start to fall. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“In this?” I look up at the ominous thunderheads. All around us, families are scurrying toward the parking lot, beach chairs and toddlers in tow, but Kristy doesn’t seem to notice the mass exodus.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about getting a little wet,” she teases. “Come on. It’ll be fun!”

Before I can protest, she grabs my hand and pulls me onto a narrow, sand-and-shell-paved coastal trail. We wind through a short stretch of scrub pine forest before reaching a bluff that overlooks the Long Island Sound. The normally calm gray inlet churns below us, boiling like water in a cauldron. Waves pound granite boulders, showering us with sea-spray.

“Maybe we should turn around?”

"Not a chance!" Kristy grabs my hand, pulling me in for another kiss. So this is what it feels like to be a heroin addict getting that first hit. “I wanna show you something,” she murmurs, lips still pressed to mine. She gives me a playful nuzzle before tugging me back into the woods.

“All right then!” I call after her. “Lead the way!”

Within a few yards, the trail becomes rugged, overgrown with vines and low-lying branches that scratch our exposed skin. I’m the one wearing sturdy footwear, but it’s still hard to keep up with Kristy’s brisk pace. Clearly, she’s on a mission.

“Hey!” I shout to be heard above the gusting wind. “Where are we going?”

She pirouettes toward me, ponytail whipping wildly. “You’ll see.”

Moments later, we emerge into a tunnel of evergreens, which arch from both sides to form a dense canopy. It’s pouring now, raindrops hissing against the leaves, but only a fine mist can reach us here. It feels like we’ve wandered into the shadowy cave behind a waterfall.

Kristy brushes up against me. “So what do you think? This is the holly grove. Pretty cool, right?”

Before I can answer, she takes my hand and presses it to her lips, which part to draw in a finger. The warmth washes up my arm like a shot of morphine and I close my eyes, groaning softly. Just one small hit of her and nothing else matters anymore.

“Mmmm.” She moves her lips to my earlobe, nibbling. “Don’t you just love doing it in the rain?”

“Kristy…” I blurt. Just tell her this can’t happen.

But instead, my hands race up her dress, fingers looping under lace. Ripping through fabric.

Stop. Can’t do this.

“Don’t stop,” she murmurs, rubbing up against me, lightly at first, then so hard we topple backward into the mud. Now she’s straddling me, hiking up her dress, tugging at my belt buckle. My hands skim over her wet skin, then race up her thighs, hips, belly. I reach up to cup her breasts and rise beneath her, all the while thinking fuck, oh fuck I need this. Too late to stop now.

Way too late.

But then the lightning starts, flickering through the trees like a strobe light. Thunder cracks overhead, giving me the jolt I need to break the spell.

“We –” I wriggle out from under her. “This can’t be safe. We should get out of the storm.”

As if to prove my point, a huge tree branch crashes through the leaf canopy, barely missing us. We both stare at the splintered wood, which can’t be more than three feet away.

“Are you okay?”

I grab Kristy’s hand and squeeze to get her attention. She stares at me and nods, looking like she’s in a state of shock. But then I notice the upward curve of her lips, the way her pupils have swelled with arousal, not fear.

Turned on by danger. I suppose we have that in common.

“Jesus,” I murmur. “That could’ve crushed us.”

“So?” She laughs. “At least we’ll die in each other’s arms.”  She runs a palm down my chest, eyes moving downward. Appreciating my arousal. “Talk about a killer orgasm. I can think of worse ways to go.”

“So can I,” I say, forcing myself to pull away. “But we still can’t stay here. I… Kristy, I just can’t do this.”

My words may as well be a slap. She recoils, then backs away like I’ve actually struck her. When she finally speaks though, her voice sounds breezy and indifferent.  “Fine then.” She smoothes the wet fabric of her sundress over her knees before rising to her feet. “Let’s go.”

I follow her out of the holly grove, racing just to keep up. There’s no hand-holding on this return trip to the parking lot – only a grim march through mud, driving wind and torrential rain. We reach my car first, but she doesn’t even slow down.

“Kristy!” I shout after her. “Don’t just walk away! At least let me tell you what’s happened! I’m in real trouble!”

That gets her attention. She pauses mid-stride, rain-soaked and shivering. Half a minute passes like that, her back turned stubbornly toward me as she considers her next move.

“Come on,” I press. “You’re freezing. I’ll crank the heat in my car to warm you up a little.”

“Don’t bother,” she sniffs. “I’ll be just fine.”

“I know you will, but I won’t. Not without you. I need you to understand what’s happening. Please... just give me a minute.”

She flinches when I touch her shoulder, still refusing to turn around.

“Will you at least let me drive you to your car?"

Instead of answering, she looks down, shoulders heaving so that I wonder for a moment if she’s crying. When she finally speaks though, her voice sounds clear and controlled.

“Look, I get it, okay? You’re having second thoughts. You made a mistake, right? You still care about me, but you don’t want to lose your family.”

I exhale slowly, telling myself she needs to hear the truth. “Jess came home yesterday. I didn’t really know until that moment, but I still love her. Even if we wind up apart, that’s never going to change. But that’s not what this is about.”

She meets my gaze, eyes daring me to continue. “Oh, really?”

“Yes. Listen, something —” I swallow the knot in my throat, then come right out and say it. “One of my study patients died yesterday, right after getting her Replacidin shots.”

Definitely not what she expected to hear. She blinks, lips forming an ‘O’ as she absorbs the meaning of those words. “What  - what happened?”

“Please.” I crack open the car door. “Come inside and I'll tell you.”

“Was it…” Kristy touches her forehead where I injected her just over a week ago, looking like she’s about to scream. “Oh my God! Are you saying the drug killed her?”

I close my eyes, listening to the drumming of rain against the windshield. If only I could rewind time. Find some way to erase this nightmare. When I open them again, I see Kristy staring out the window, looking totally shell-shocked. My mind scrambles for words of comfort, but what is there to say, really?

Fear. Denial. Anger. How many Replacidin test subjects around the world are going through these same emotions right now?

I think of Brooke and Dean Murray – the young couple who joked around while getting their Replacidin shots last week. What must they be going through right now?

Why didn’t I grasp the implications sooner?

“Well?” Kristy demands suddenly. “Did your drug kill her?”

“I don’t think so.”

“But you’re not sure.”

“No.”

She buries her face in her hands, shivering even though the heat’s blasting through the vents. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I mean, goddamn it Jake!  That fucking poison’s inside me!”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Oh, how sweet.”

“Listen,” I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to reassure her. To reassure myself. “It was probably a rare allergic reaction. Either that or her death was totally unrelated to the drug. Nothing’s going to happen to you. I promise.”

Kristy rubs her eyes. “But how can you be so sure?”

“The reaction was immediate. No one else in the study experienced anything like it. Besides, your treatment was…”  I count back the days, amazed by how much has happened in such a short time. “Eight days ago. If you were going to experience any side effects, they would’ve happened by now.”

“But the drug’s still sitting there.” She bites her lower lip, then touches her forehead with revulsion, as if there’s a parasite crawling around inside. “Like a ticking time bomb.”

“You’re safe,” I reassure her. “The medical examiner is investigating the cause of death, and we’ll probably know the answer within a few days. She probably had a heart attack, something that had nothing to do with the drug. In the meantime, the safety data I showed you… nothing’s changed. There’s no reason to panic.”

“Then why are you shaking?”

She points to my hands and I notice she’s right. I can’t hold them still.  “Jesus, Jake,” she murmurs. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on? You’re terrified.”

I take a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. “There’s something else. Something that’s really been bothering me. Your husband… he was there when it happened.”

She answers me with a blank stare.

“Did you hear me? Roy was there. I saw him right before I did the procedure. And then again, right after -”

“So, what are you saying?” she cuts in.

“I’m saying your husband was there! He came in for a procedure right before my patient died.  Then, instead of going back to work, he waited in the reception area.  He must’ve been there for almost an hour. Now tell me: Why the hell would he do that? He’s a busy man, right?”

“I don’t know.” Kristy looks away, irritation creeping into her voice. “Maybe he was texting a client. Who cares? I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“Don’t blow this off. You know what he's capable of.”

“So you think…” Her voice cracks with disbelief. “You actually think Roy had something to do with this poor woman’s death?”

For some reason, hearing it put into words makes my suspicion sound ridiculous. But then I flash back to the look Caulder gave me as I raced through the waiting room. The way he seemed to be enjoying my distress, like a shark drawn to blood.

What sort of person gets off like that?

“Well,” I say in a somber voice, “the thought certainly crossed my mind.”

“Great.” Kristy shakes her head. “Then you’re even more paranoid than he is.”

“Why? What if he knows about us? Think about it! That would give him a motive!”

“So let me get this straight. Roy finds out we hooked up, so what does he do? He sneaks into one of your patient’s rooms to poison her.” She pulls a face. “Is that really what you’re suggesting?”

“It may seem far-fetched,” I admit. “But yes. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it’s possible. He knew about the study because you told him. And we were understaffed that day, so he could’ve easily slipped into the treatment room undetected. The opportunity was there.”

Kristy looks down at her lap and I realize she hasn’t denied her husband knows about us.

“So that’s Roy’s reaction?” she finally asks in a distant voice. “To come after one of your patients?”

“It’s possible.”

“Well, gee Jake…” She shoots me a withering look. “Did you ever consider he might do something a little more basic? Like, I don’t know, maybe taking it out on me?”

I wince, picturing the bruises on her body.  “Are you saying he hurt you?”

As the question leaves my lips, I notice the fresh round of tears beading in her eyes. How could I have been so self-absorbed. So damned selfish?

“God… I’m so sorry,” I mutter, balling my fists. “That piece of shit.”

I try to hold her hand but she jerks away, reminding me that she can take care of herself.

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to. You need to leave him, Kristy, and you need to do it now… before it’s too late. Please let me help you.”

She spins toward me. “And what exactly does that mean? What kind of help are you offering here, Jake?  Just how far are you prepared to go?”

I tell her I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

“Really? And if that meant choosing to be with me, right now, would you? Would you stay, even if it meant leaving Jess?”

She wants me to say yes. It’s in her eyes, the way that her pupils have opened into dark, inviting pools. If you jump, they seem to be saying, then so will I.

It’s a leap I might have taken just twenty-four hours ago, but right now…

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “If the choice were mine alone, then yeah, I’d burn my world down just to be with you.” I close my eyes, images from our short time together flooding in, and realize how much I mean it. “But it's not just me anymore. And it’s not really my decision to make.”

This can’t be the answer she wants, but then why does she suddenly look relieved?

“That’s what I thought,” she says, eyes fixed on the dashboard. “So then what’s the next move? What happens now?”

“Honestly…” I shake my head. “I have no idea how things will play out. I’m going to tell Jess the truth when I see her tonight. She’ll probably react by going through with the divorce, but that won’t really change anything. I still need to be there for her and the kids.”

She nods mechanically. “Then you’re making the right choice.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be there for you.”

“Is that right?” She surprises me with a laugh. “Well, that’s really big of you, Jake, but what makes you think I’d want you? That I ever wanted you?”

I tell myself she doesn’t mean it. I’ve hurt her, so she’s just striking back.

But then why does it feel like she’s just removed a mask to show me her real face?

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true.” She sighs, giving me a sideways glance that’s almost pitying. “Do you want to know what part of this, of us is real Jake?”

I shake my head, feeling numb.

“Nothing. Not one moment… except for what I’m about to tell you now, so listen up.” She pauses to make sure I’m absorbing every word before continuing. “Don’t try to save me, because I don’t need saving. I’m not the one in danger here.”

“But your husband —”

“You’re still not listening! Forget about him. Just take my advice and drop it.”

“So, now you’re defending that asshole?”

“Listen, Roy’s a lot of shitty things, but he’s not a cold-blooded killer. To suggest he’d poison a total stranger to get even with you because... why? You’re fucking me? That’s kinda crazy, don’t you think?”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Well you should be. Trust me, you don’t want to go there.”

“I’ll go wherever I need to go,” I mutter. “If it turns out that my patient was murdered –”

“Jesus, Jake! Will you wake the fuck up? You’re nobody. Do you really think you can touch someone like Roy? Things will only get worse for you if you come after him with some crazy, bullshit theory. You’ll only piss him off even more, and believe me, neither one of us wants that to happen.”

I glare at her, feeling the anger well up within me like venom. “Then what would you have me do, Bree?”

Somehow, I knew that the name would hurt her more than anything else I could say, and I’m right. She flinches, turning away to hide her full reaction. Whatever she’s feeling though can’t be that intense, because when she faces me again, she's wearing a blank, almost serene expression. It’s the same frigid beauty I saw when she first entered my life, just over two weeks ago.

Sadly, it feels like we’ve come full circle.

“You’ve already made your decision,” Roy Caulder’s trophy wife says, lips pressing into a line. “Now take care of your family.”

She reaches for the car door, fingers pausing on the handle, and in that moment, I catch the flicker of some complex emotion. Maybe it’s regret. Or resignation.

Then again, maybe it’s just a flash of lightning, reflected in her eyes.

“Stay away from Roy,” she warns. “Please, Jake. No girl should grow up without her father. Don't do that to Emma.”

And with that, she walks out into the rain.

*****

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