“And the insurance?”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“No reason.”
I closed my laptop.
“Twenty-five million.”
Her eyes widened.
Even though she already knew.
“Twenty-five?”
“Yes.”
“That seems excessive.”
“It’s mostly estate planning.”
She nodded slowly.
“And Edgar gets it?”
“Yes.”
Her smile appeared.
Small.
Satisfied.
I did not understand it then.
The following afternoon, I developed a migraine at work.
A severe one.
Bright light became unbearable.
My operations manager told me to go home.
I argued.
He threatened to drive me himself.
So I left at two-thirty.
Almost four hours earlier than usual.
I entered through the garage.
I took off my shoes.
The house was quiet.
Edgar was at work.
Kristina was supposedly at a hair appointment.
I walked upstairs.
Then I heard something.
A scraping sound.
From my bedroom.
I stopped.
Another sound.
Fabric moving.
Then a whisper.
I moved closer.
The bedroom door was open two inches.
I looked through the gap.
Kristina stood beside my bed.
She wore thick leather gloves.
In one hand, she held a cloth bag.
The bag moved.
My headache disappeared instantly beneath adrenaline.
Then I heard it.
Rattle.
Dry.
Fast.
Impossible to mistake.
My blood turned cold.
Kristina loosened the bag.
A rattlesnake slid partly onto the mattress.
I nearly screamed.
I covered my mouth.
She used a long broom handle.
Slowly.
Carefully.
She guided the snake beneath the comforter.
Toward my pillow.
The snake disappeared beneath the sheets.
Kristina arranged everything.
She smoothed the blanket.
She repositioned the pillows.
Then she whispered.
“Don’t blame me.”
My heart hammered.
“Edgar deserves another chance.”
She adjusted my pillow.
“With those twenty-five million, he can start over with Heather Perkinson and raise the child you were never able to give him.”
