S heila watched Ethan pace the room.
He hadn’t said a word since he’d arrived an hour before. Instead, he was muttering to himself, going in and out of his workroom, clearly trying to work something out in his head.
Her instincts told her he was beginning to crack. What had happened-or almost happened-between them a few days ago was proof of that. She had gotten close to him, and she was certain she could do it again.
It was her only hope.
Her feet dangled off the bed, not quite touching the floor. She watched as he came out of the workroom for the tenth time, and her heart lurched when she saw that the small silver gun was tucked into the waistband of his jeans once again. She hadn’t seen the gun in days. He made no move to wave it in her face. Instead, he lay on the sofa and closed his eyes.
“What’s going on with you?” Sheila asked, tentative. “Something feels different.”
“Nothing. Just tired.”
“Is somebody onto you?” She kept her voice light. She knew he’d only talk if she provoked him a little. But not too much. “You seem really tense.”
Ethan didn’t move. “Nobody’s onto me. Nobody’s looking for you.”
“I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about you. Your girlfriend has to suspect something by now.”
He opened one eye. “Don’t you fucking talk to me about Abby.”
Ah, she’d hit a nerve. That was good. But she had to be careful not to push him too quickly. “If I see the changes in you, then so has she. You’re exhausted and stressed. She’s not stupid, Ethan. You can’t keep the hours you keep without her noticing.”
He opened his eyes all the way. “Your point?”
“Whatever your plan is, it’s time.” Sheila paused for effect. “You do have a plan, don’t you?” She allowed the smallest bit of accusation to seep into her voice.
“Things have changed.” His voice was clipped.
His body language was more telling than his words. He had grown stiff, his hands clenched into tight fists; thankfully they didn’t move toward the gun.
She took a deep breath. Her next move was risky. “Ethan, if you wanted to kill me, I’d be dead by now. Just like if you wanted to destroy my career, you’d have released the video. So let’s stop pretending you want to hurt me. We both know you don’t. You brought me here because you were pissed off and trying to teach me a lesson. And God knows you have.” She leaned forward. “We still care about each other. You know we do.”
Ethan shook his head slowly. “You’re trying to mind-fuck me.”
“Have I tried to escape?” She hoped she sounded sincere. “Have I given you a hard time about anything? I know how smart you are. I know I can’t bullshit you.”
“You tried to take the gun from me. When we were, you know…” His voice faded, his eyes darting to her face briefly before flitting away.
“I already told you, I wasn’t trying anything.” Sheila forced just the right note of exasperation into her voice. “I had to move it, it was digging into my leg. Ethan, you can trust me.”
He stared at her, then grinned. The smile did not touch his eyes. “Impressive, Dr. Tao.”
“I mean every word I say.”
“You’re making me angry. I suggest you shut up right now.”
“But, Ethan-”
“Shut up!” he roared, standing up.
Startled, Sheila cringed into the pillows.
He took a few steps toward the bed and pointed a shaking finger at her. “You-all of you-you make me fucking crazy, you know that? You all think you’re so intelligent, so unique and so exceptional, but you’re all the same.”
“Who, Ethan?” She kept her voice steady, wishing she had something to hide behind. She pulled a pillow to her chest. “Who are you talking about? Me and who?”
He ignored her and started pacing the room again, his hand moving to the butt of the gun. “You want to get out of here so you can go back to your perfect little life, with your perfect job and your perfect man. Well, why should I let you? Why do you get to be happy, Sheila? What makes you so fucking special?”
“I never said-”
“Shut up!” he shrieked, clapping his hands over his ears like a little boy. “Shut up shut up shut up!”
Sheila snapped her mouth closed. She had no idea what he was ranting about, but he was completely uncorked. It was time to back off.
“We had a good thing going, you and me. And then you had to go and ruin it by getting engaged to that fat fuck.” He was talking to her but not looking at her. “And, okay, I could have dealt with it, no big deal. You want to marry him, marry him. What the fuck do I care, I have a girlfriend, what does it change? But then you ended it with me. You wanted me out of your life completely. For him. How was I supposed to take that? I’m supposed to just shrink away, act like it’s all okay? I had feelings for you.” His fingers tightened around the base of the gun.
She cowered on the bed, not sure what he was going to do. “I had feelings for you, too.”
“You’re lying.”
“Ethan, I’m sorry.” She was beginning to sweat. “I handled it all wrong. I see that now. I… disrespected you and said things I shouldn’t have. It was my fault. If I could go back and change it, I would. But I didn’t think you cared. If I’d known you did, I never would have made the decision I made.” She took a breath and looked up at him. “I loved you, Ethan.”
He stopped pacing. Sheila had no idea if he’d heard her.
His jaw worked. “When I graduated, I thought… I thought we could have made something of it.”
“We still can. It’s not too late.”
He started pacing again. “No, you picked Morris. Morris with the big-ass Cadillac and big-ass house and big-ass bank job and big-ass bank account.”
How did he know all that? It certainly hadn’t come from her. Ethan’s obsession with Morris was scaring the shit out of her. Every conversation seemed to lead right back to him.
“Do you still love him?” Ethan asked.
Sheila couldn’t think of an answer fast enough and his face transformed into something ugly.
“You do. Your hesitation says it all.”
“God, Ethan, I’m not a robot!” She got up off the bed and approached him. “I don’t have switches I can turn on and off. Ending it with you was agonizing. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. But I thought Morris was the sensible choice. Think about it logically, from my perspective. I’m telling you the truth.” She reached her hand out.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t have your old life back,” Ethan said, ignoring her hand and taking a small step back. “Nobody misses you. Nobody gives a fuck that you’re gone. They already replaced you at the university. Got some hotshot professor they snagged from the University of Washington to fill your big shoes. Oh, what was her name again…?” He snapped his fingers several times in succession, like a jazz musician feeling the beat. “Linda something or other. Brennan. Brandon.”
“Branson,” Sheila said, deflated. “Linda Branson.” She had no idea if what Ethan was saying was true, but it was definitely plausible. Dr. Linda Branson was indeed a hotshot professor who’d left the University of Washington to write a bestselling book on childhood phobias. Of course PSSU would have snapped her up, especially now that Sheila was out of the picture. What timing.
“And Morris.” A small smile was on Ethan’s lips. “I can guarantee Morris the fat fuck isn’t looking for you, either. He’s so over you. You never should have told him about your sex addiction. I’ll bet he was glad as hell when you canceled the wedding, so he didn’t have to do it. He probably thinks he dodged a bullet.”
“Well, that’s where I’ll have to disagree,” Sheila said, despite her fear. “You don’t know Morris. He’s very loyal. Maybe he hasn’t yet, but he will start looking for me. He’ll want answers, and when he starts digging, he’ll figure out that something bad happened. He won’t let it go until he finds me. And he’s a juggernaut when he gets going.” She felt her chin jut out defiantly. “You won’t be able to stop him.”
Another nerve hit. Ethan stopped pacing and turned to her, his gray eyes completely devoid of the flecks of light that made people look human. The hairs on Sheila’s neck stood up and she cursed herself for opening her big mouth. Oh, God. What was he going to do now? Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“Morris is dead,” Ethan said calmly. “I already killed him.”
“No.” Her heart started hammering so hard she couldn’t breathe. “You’re lying.”
“Why do you think I’m so sure he’s not looking for you?” Ethan’s lips curled up in a sneer. “I made it look like an accident. He started drinking again when you left him, no surprise there. So I fucked a little with the brake pads on his big, shiny Cadillac. Five nights ago when it was raining really hard, he veered off the freeway and wrapped himself around a utility pole. Died instantly. When they pulled him out, they could smell the whiskey on him. There was an open bottle of Johnnie Walker on the passenger seat floor.” Ethan smiled, pleased with himself. “The good stuff-Red label, I think. Or was it Black? I can’t remember.”
“You’re lying,” Sheila said again, feeling dizzy. “I don’t believe you. Morris was innocent. He hasn’t done anything to hurt you, and I’ve been cooperating, haven’t I? There was no reason to kill him.”
Ethan stepped toward her. “You don’t believe me? You don’t think I’m capable?” His smile was frosty and knowing. He tilted her head up with his finger. “After all the planning I did to get you here, and after all this time keeping you here, you don’t think I can do any fucking thing I set my mind to?”
His words were nothing short of a scream. His spittle sprayed her face.
Sheila struggled to keep calm, but her insides felt like mush.
“The funeral was yesterday.” He was calm again as he took her arm and led her back toward the bed. She didn’t protest. “Remind me to bring you the obituary from the Times. They used a nice photo, the one from your office-he’s in the red plaid shirt barbecuing something? Hate to admit it, but he looked quite handsome.”
It couldn’t be real. No, please, it couldn’t be. But God help her, she was starting to believe him. Ethan’s words rang true, right down to the brand of whiskey Morris liked. He was right-why wouldn’t he have killed Morris? He hated Morris, and he’d killed before. It was all in a day’s work.
She felt her mind spin out of control.
If Morris was gone, truly gone, then she was on her own. Just as Ethan said, nobody would be looking for her, nobody would care where she’d gone. And it wouldn’t matter anyway, because a life without Morris was too horrible to contemplate.
She had nothing left to lose.
Sheila’s voice was steady despite the stream of hot tears running down her cheeks. “Ethan, make love to me.”
Ethan’s head snapped toward her in surprise. “What did you say?”
“You brought me here to get me away from Morris. And then you killed him. As much as that hurts me, and it does,” she said, pausing to lick the salty tears that had landed on her lips, “I know you’ve done this out of love. So make the hurt go away. Make what you did worth it.”
Ethan saw her heartbreak, saw her pain, saw her desire. This is what she wanted him to see. She was offering herself to him, despite the horrifying news about Morris.
It worked. He believed.
He took her in his arms. It took all of her strength to let herself melt against him, to touch him, to kiss the lips of the man who personified the word monster.
And when his urgent hands roamed her body, she closed her eyes and lay back on the bed, retreating to her happy place, where the sun was shining and Morris was waiting for her.