Anna spent the morning performing normality with a concentration that left her exhausted. She washed dishes, answered messages, and asked Dererick whether he needed anything from the store. Every commonplace exchange required calculation.
The moment he left, she locked the door and stood with both palms against the kitchen counter, breathing through the panic she had postponed since dawn.
Running was the obvious choice. It was also incomplete. If she disappeared with nothing except an accusation, Dererick could deny everything and destroy whatever records he had kept.
Anna began packing anyway. Passport. Cash. Comfortable clothes. Chargers. Medication. Copies of identification. She chose things she could carry quickly and abandoned everything that would slow her down.
Then she called Clare.
Her sister was working an overnight hospital rotation and did not answer. Anna left a message containing only enough information to communicate urgency. She asked Clare to call immediately and, if possible, come without announcing herself.
Waiting for the response made the house unbearable. Anna wandered into Dererick’s study and stopped at the doorway.
His desk looked almost aggressively ordinary. Bills sat beneath a paperweight. Pens were aligned beside a closed notebook. A laptop rested near the lamp.
The notebook held her attention.
Anna approached it, then stopped. Touching anything could reveal that she had searched the room. Dererick’s behavior during the night had shown an obsession with precision; a misplaced object might be enough to alert him.
She backed away and concentrated on escape logistics instead. The back entrance opened toward an alley. Mr. Peterson, the elderly neighbor across the street, spent long stretches on his porch and noticed nearly everything that happened nearby. If Anna needed a witness, he might become important.
She hid her packed bag inside the closet behind winter coats and placed spare keys where she could reach them quickly.
Then she rehearsed leaving.
From bedroom to stairs. Stairs to kitchen. Kitchen to back door. She identified which boards creaked and which locks clicked loudly. The exercise felt absurd until she remembered the syringe.
Anna also began thinking about evidence. The camera might contain recordings. The vials might still be somewhere in the house. The notebook could hold names or dates.
Most troubling was Dererick’s confidence. He had behaved like a man following a system, not hiding an isolated act.
She returned to the study.
This time she opened the notebook.
The first pages contained ordinary appointments. Farther in, the handwriting changed. There were initials, dates, locations, abbreviated observations, and symbols repeated beside different names.
Anna photographed several pages before fear forced her to stop.
She found a flash drive in the same drawer and connected it briefly to Dererick’s laptop. Folder names appeared that meant little individually but looked disturbing beside the notebook entries. She copied what she could onto another drive.
Every second felt stolen.
When she finished, Anna replaced the objects exactly where she remembered finding them. She even studied the angle of the pen beside the notebook before setting it back.
Her phone remained silent.
She considered calling police immediately but hesitated. What could she say with certainty? She had seen her husband handling medical-looking equipment while she pretended to sleep. She had photographs of cryptic notes. She had files she had not yet examined.
It might be enough to begin an investigation. It might also warn Dererick before she understood what she had found.
Anna chose another immediate safeguard. She made duplicate copies of the photographs and uploaded them to an account Dererick did not know about.
Then she went across the street.
Mr. Peterson listened without interrupting. The old man’s expression changed only when Anna mentioned the black bag and camera.
He admitted that Dererick’s habits had changed recently. He had seen him leaving at unusual hours and carrying bags between the house and his car. Once, near midnight, Peterson had watched him take something to the trash and retrieve the same bag the following morning.
Anna felt both validated and more frightened.
Peterson offered what he could: his eyes, his telephone, his garage, and a promise to record anything unusual. He urged her not to remain alone if she believed Dererick might hurt her.
When Anna returned home, her phone finally vibrated.
Clare had received the message.
She was coming.
Anna had barely finished reading when tires whispered across the driveway outside.
A shadow moved past the kitchen window.
Clare was still nearly an hour away.
