The Bonus Question

For five years, Reese was dead certain I couldn't survive without him. That arrogance was why he dared to strap me to a polygraph chair on my birthday. Why he looked me dead in the eye and said he regretted marrying me. Why he transferred the tickets for my birthday getaway to his first love, letting her lounge in my pajamas, sleep in my bed, and flaunt the heirloom my mother left me before she died.

As the electric shocks sent my body into violent spasms, he didn't even flinch. "It's a safe voltage," he dismissed.

When I choked out the word divorce, he didn't so much as turn his head. "You'd never leave me."

But there was one thing he didn't know. When I went back to the escape room to grab my forgotten purse, the owner showed me something—an audio recording from the control room, captured right before our game began.

In it, Reese casually admitted that the only reason he married me was because I looked like her.

I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just signed the divorce papers, pinned them to the table beneath my positive ultrasound report, and dialed 911.

——

Chapter 1

For my thirtieth birthday, my husband took me to an escape room. He called it a surprise.

The place was called Truth Room, on the second floor of a converted warehouse in LoDo. The girl at the front desk slid two liability waivers across the counter, and while I signed mine, Rhys stood next to me with his phone out, thumbing a message and smiling at whatever came back. I assumed he was confirming the cake.

He was texting Vivian Moreau.

A staff member in a black polo strapped me into a metal chair. Wrists, ankles, one band across my chest. Wires ran from the armrests to a polygraph rig on a cart, and a green line on the monitor jumped every time my heart did. At the far end of the room stood a clear acrylic tank, and inside it, in a white sundress, stood Vivian. The water was at her knees.

I knew her. Everyone in Rhys's orbit knew her. His first love, the one who'd left for Paris eight years ago and come back to Denver last month.

"Rules are simple," said a voice from the ceiling speaker. "The tank keeps filling. Mr. Holloway answers ten questions. Every true answer drains the tank a little. A lie, or more than five seconds of silence, and Ms. Kent gets a shock. Don't worry. It's a light current. A tingle, tops."

Rhys sat on a stool in the middle of the room. He winked at me.

"Question one," the voice said. "Do you regret marrying Audrey Kent?"

"Yes."

A green light came on. Somewhere under the tank a pump kicked in, and the water dropped an inch.

I looked at him. He was looking at the tank.

"Question two. If Vivian had never left, would you still have chosen Audrey?"

"No."

Green again.

It's a script, I told myself. It's a bit. There's a punch line I haven't caught yet. Under the strap, my fingers had gone cold.

On question three, he didn't answer.

I counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

The first shock threw me off the back of the chair. It was nothing like a tingle. It felt like someone had driven a fistful of hot nails into every joint I had. My teeth slammed together. My legs kicked against the straps. I tried to say stop, and what came out was a thin, ugly wheeze.

I looked at Rhys. He saw me. I know he saw me. Then he turned toward the tank and said, "Hang on, Viv. Almost done."

On question seven, he went quiet again.

After the second shock I felt warmth running down the inside of my thigh. My dress was soaked through. Over the intercom, somebody laughed, then caught himself.

By the last question the water had climbed back to Vivian's chin. She was slapping the acrylic with both palms, her hair fanned out in the water.

The voice slowed down for this one, like a game show host.

"Would you trade your wife's life to get Vivian out of that tank?"

Rhys pressed the button on his armrest.

"Yes."

The chair dropped backward. The whole thing slid on a rail into a dark compartment in the wall, the door sealed, and the current hit me at full strength.

I don't know how long it lasted. I remember the door opening and the light stabbing at my eyes. Rhys was bent over me, working the chest strap loose, talking in the easy voice he used when a waiter got his order wrong.

"Okay, okay. Don't take it so seriously."

I didn't answer. I was looking past his shoulder at the control screen on the wall.

It was still on his answer profile. The polygraph was a prop. True and false were decided by whatever the player typed into the system before the game started. Every yes, every no, he'd entered ahead of time.

At the bottom of the profile was a field labeled Bonus Question. He'd filled it in.

I want to know if she'll still stay after she hears all this.

He held out his hand to help me up. I laughed. I couldn't help it.

"Well," I said. "Now you know."

I stood up. My legs were shaking. I walked around him, out the door, and hit the lock on the panel outside. The heavy door swung shut behind me and sealed him in with Vivian, who was just climbing out of the tank.

"The answer's no," I said to the closed door.

Through the little window I watched Rhys run to the door and pound on it. Then Vivian, dripping, stumbled into him. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, and after that he didn't look toward the window again.