Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
I clamber down the attic stairs as fast as I can.
He said Grace, and I can’t blame him. I’m wearing her clothes and makeup, standing in her office. I must look like a ghost. Except he doesn’t know Grace is dead, so he must think I’m the real deal.
I make it to the landing by the time Jesse gets through the front door. He sees me from the bottom of the stairs and calls up.
“Babe, where have you been? I’ve missed you. I’ve needed you.”
He takes the stairs two at a time, and when he gets to the landing, his face falls.
“You’re not Grace.”
I attempt a casual wave, but it feels more like a strange salute. “Hi Jesse.”
“What’s going on?” He takes in my outfit. “What were you doing in her office? And why are you wearing her clothes?”
“I’m, I’m—” I stammer, unable to finish a sentence. What explanation could there possibly be? “Bradley said it was OK.”
“Who gives a shit what Bradley says? What did Grace say?” He steps towards me, frowning. “Where is she, anyway?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is she on the property?”
“I don’t—” I cut myself off. “She’s missing.”
“Missing?”
“We haven’t seen her in a week. Bradley called the police. They’re looking for her, I guess.”
He raises his voice. “You guess, do you? Jesus Christ, a week? And no one thought to tell me?” He makes a fist with his right hand. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his beard has become disheveled. “I thought she’d—” He stops himself, staring at me. “Go get changed.”
“Excuse me?”
“Get out of her clothes! If she finds out—”
He looks at me with contempt. To him, I’m just a servant who’s been caught stealing.
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I think it’s time you leave. Bradley will get in touch.”
“I don’t want that asshole to get in touch. I want you to get out of her clothes, you little thief.”
“They were getting a divorce.”
His expression freezes, and I immediately regret what I’ve said. Did I really say were? When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, calmer.
“She didn’t tell me that.”
“It might explain why she left. He knew about you.”
“Of course he knew. They had an arrangement.” He squints, as if seeing me for the first time.
“From the looks of things, you’re part of it.
She suspected something would happen, of course.
He’s always searching for another young filly.
What confuses me is why you all fall for it? It’s so obvious what he is.”
“What’s that?”
I hate this man. I want him gone.
“A predator. A cheat. What would the kids today call him? A fuckboy?”
“It’s not like that,” I say, before I can think.
He gives a cruel, mocking laugh. “Like hell it isn’t. Now get out of her clothes!”
He steps towards me. His eyes are wild, unsteady. He grabs my wrist, and I scream and try to get free, but he’s strong. He pulls at the fabric of the dress, and the shoulder strap tears. He steps away, looking confused and ashamed, just as the front door slams.
“Brie!”
“Help!” I call out, pulling my arm free.
Bradley is up the stairs in seconds. “What’s going on here?”
“He attacked me.”
“Where is she?” Jesse yells, ignoring me. Bradley pushes him roughly out of the door and towards the stairs. Jesse stumbles down, and Bradley follows him, his face dark. “Tell me where she is!”
Bradley reaches him at the front door and gives him a final push onto the veranda. Jesse calls out some more insults before retreating up the driveway.
“Brie, are you OK?” Bradley sprints up the stairs again, and I’m soon in his arms. “Tell me what happened.”
“It was nothing.” I take a breath to hold back the tears. “He was just looking for Grace.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing.”
“He didn’t like me wearing her clothes.”
He touches the strap of the dress like it’s a wound. “It’s none of his business.”
“Jesse probably thought I was stealing them.”
“He’s a parasite.” He screws up his face as if he wants to spit out a wad of bile. “He’s been circling Grace for years.”
I remember what Jesse said about Bradley—and the book I found—and pull away.
I’m not necessarily surprised that Bradley has had other affairs, but Jesse called him a predator.
There was nothing predatory about how he acted with me.
Seductive, maybe, but he was always respectful and kind.
Nothing to suggest he’s been screwing random undergraduates for more than a decade.
“What’s wrong? What did he say?”
“Nothing. He just—he said you and Grace had an arrangement.”
“What does that mean?”
“Like an open marriage, I guess. And then I found a book in the attic.”
“What were you doing up there?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Why can’t I go up there?”
“It’s just the police. They’ll search it, eventually. It doesn’t make any sense for them to find evidence that you’ve been up there.” He holds the bridge of his nose as if he has a migraine. “Tell me about this book.”
“It’s a list of names. Women. I’m in there. So is Caroline. It looks like a list of conquests.”
He frowns for a second, then laughs. “Conquests? What am I, Don Juan?”
“This is serious. I don’t want to be a notch on your belt.”
He takes my hand and lifts it so I can see the ring. “What do you think this means? You’re not a notch on the belt. Besides, there aren’t that many notches.”
“Not 52?” I ask. “That’s how many names were in the book.”
“You counted. Of course you did. Look, I’ve told you that Grace was an unstable person. She was also very jealous. She assumed that every woman I ever interacted with was a rival. As an academic, I’m constantly surrounded by young women. It drove her crazy. You drove her crazy, clearly.”
I’m unsure if I buy it. Grace was right about the only woman I know on the list—me.
“What about the arrangement? Jesse said you knew about each other’s affairs.”
“She probably just told him that to make him feel better about cheating. There’s no arrangement. I never treated marriage that lightly. It’s a serious thing.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He leans in to kiss me, but then his phone rings, and he pulls away. “Hold that thought.”
As he answers the phone, he walks into the spare room and closes the door. I’m relieved to have a moment to think.
There are two options: either he’s a liar and a cheat, or Grace was jealous and insane. On the evidence, there’s only one option that makes sense. Grace was clearly unstable.
A few minutes later, Bradley comes out of the room, his face white.
“What is it?” I ask.
“That was the police,” he says. “They’ve found her.”