Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“She thought you loved her, didn’t she?” I ask. “Her husband’s going to be heartbroken.”
He just grunts. And the disinterest is wild.
“So, where’s Laura?”
“Sidney,” he chides. “There’s no need for you to be jealous. Just think of Laura as my PR person. Lots of money in death these days.”
I don’t know what to say.
“This is nice. Just you and me. A relief to finally be able to talk to you without worrying about anyone listening or reading what I wrote,” he says with a happy sigh. “I had to be so fucking careful while I was in there.”
“Don’t worry. I understood all of your implied threats to me over the years just fine.”
He laughs. But same as always, the mirth doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s a stone statue going through the motions and pretending to be human.
This situation is chillingly similar to my recurring nightmare. Stuck in the house with him, and there’s no way to escape. Even with my self-defense training, his size and strength pose a challenge, not to mention his penchant for psychotic rage. Though he hasn’t started hunting me…not yet. Nothing within my reach would be helpful protection. Of all the times for the dining room table to be clean. My short baseball bat is on the other side of the room by the door. And there are knives in the kitchen. Eight or nine feet from me. How far could I get before he’d be on me? Judging by the way he’s watching me I doubt I’d get far.
My heart is beating double time. I try to slow my breathing and keep a clear head so I can remember my training. But my brain flashes back to him strangling me, and I can’t quite shove down by body’s panicked response.
Having him here is strange, though I can’t say that I’m shocked to see him. There was a certain sense of inevitability to all of this. He and I facing off after all these years. The detective was right to think I might lure him in. He never could stay out of my life.
Months would go by with no word. No sign that he gave me a thought. Then, when I believed I might finally be free of him, a letter would arrive to remind me. He was still watching, still paying attention.
I am a toy he picks up and plays with now and then. And Ryan doesn’t like to share his toys. But he sure does enjoy breaking them.
“Tell me about your boyfriend,” he says. “Who is this Noah Allard I’ve been hearing so much about?”
“How do you know his name?”
“Come on, Sidney. I have other sources apart from Laura. And several of the articles about my mother’s death mentioned his presence at the scene. Of course I know his name.”
“Oh.”
“Tell me about him,” he says. Like this is just a friendly chat we’re having. “Or I could just meet him. Your choice.”
“We broke up.”
He snorts. “Sidney…”
“It’s the truth.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.” I put as much venom into the word as possible. “And it’s your fault. He dumped me because he couldn’t handle the constant fucking pressure. From the police and the media…all because of you.”
For a moment he stares at me. Then his slow, creepy, horror movie smile reappears. “Hmm. Can’t say I am sorry or surprised to hear it. And don’t be in such a rush to put it all on me. You know full well you can be a difficult person to be around. Is it any wonder I had to find an outlet for my frustrations?”
“Are you seriously blaming being a serial killer on me?”
“I’m just saying you had a role to play in all of this. Not that I expect you to admit it. The capacity you have for denial…”
“You actually believe that, don’t you? That I’m one of the reasons you chose to kill people.”
“Like I said…you’re not ready to be totally honest with yourself yet. I think your grandmother went way too easy on you when you were growing up. Treating you like such a poor little orphan.”
“Fuck you, Ryan.”
He taps his fingers on the top of the sofa. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re still not ready to leave behind the victim mentality and embrace the possibilities of what you could be.”
“Are you serious?” I ask with all the wonder. “How about you? Are you mad about Mommy?”
“Can you believe how badly she fucked up killing your cousin?” He shakes his head. “How hard is it to frame someone for murder? I mean, seriously. What a clusterfuck. Not watching long enough to make sure you were alone. Then being stupid enough to leave a cell phone data trail that led straight back to her.”
“But you’re not upset about how she died?”
“She wanted to go out with a bang, I guess.” He cocks his head. “Did you expect me to cry?”