Chapter 38 Now
Now
My mouth is dry, the pills suddenly growing claggy in sweat-slick hands. I am thoroughly screwed.
“I—”
Will’s eyes go wide; his mouth gapes. “Oh god. Oh god, oh god.”
“Hi,” I say. I can’t seem to think of anything else. Fuck’s sake. My brain is meant to operate better than this.
Will starts to back away slowly, then all of a sudden breaks into a run back into the evening. I don’t understand it but I take off after him, hot on his heels. I catch the back of his jacket at the gate. He spins, takes hold of my shoulders, and throws me to the paved ground.
While I’m still righting myself, Will turns again and dashes into the house.
I hear the lock click. He obviously hasn’t thought this through.
How does he think I managed to get into the house in the first place?
With a roll of my eyes, I stroll up to the door, scrape the pills into my pocket, and fish the keys out.
A twist in the lock and I’m back inside, careful to close the door behind me.
I just hope we haven’t yet caught the attention of the neighbors.
Will is standing in the living room, panicked to see me here, eyes darting from side to side as if they might find a new magical escape.
“Stay away from me!” he shouts.
“Will—”
I take two steps forward into the room. He’s dashing into the kitchen. Next thing I know, he’s hovering in the archway, a big knife in his hands. His weight is on his toes, ready to spring into action. I don’t come any closer.
“Stay away from me!” he says again.
“Stay away from you?” I hiss, acid fizzing in my voice. “Stay away from you? I’m only here because you won’t stay away from me. From me and James. All we want is to be left alone.”
Will’s voice is indignant, knife waving as he speaks. “What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t once shown up at your home. Not once! So I don’t know what you think gives you the right to break into mine. Because that’s what this is, by the way—breaking and entering.”
My anger emboldens me, and I take a step forward.
“I said stay back! How did you get keys to this place anyway?”
“The plant pot isn’t the most original hiding place, Will.” His brow folds in on itself, face sour with grudging admission. “But that’s beside the point. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your threats. You’re making our lives a misery.”
“Are you mad? You’re the one threatening me. And that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re here to kill me.”
This stops me.
“Hang on a second. What do you mean I’m threatening you? You’re the one who’s been sending copies of the letters to my home, calling up the office with vague threats.”
The knife lowers a fraction in his hand. “I’ve never called you at the office.” Molly’s words echo in my ears. He did sound off, now you mention it. “And the letters? You mean the ones you wrote to the exes you did god knows what to, you total psychopath? Why the hell would I do that?”
I’ve always thought of Will as a good liar, but I never thought of him as this good. “Because James was a few miserly pounds short on the payment.”
The knife drops to his side. “What payment?”
Everything seems to freeze in the room while we try to slot things into place in our minds. We are both looking at each other, reflections of anger and confusion on our faces. Our understanding of what’s going on is worlds apart.
“You…you emailed James a couple of weeks ago, asking for more money.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I saw it.”
“But that’s impossible. And stupid. Why would I provoke you when I know what I know? I’m not trying to get myself put in hospital, or worse.”
“But James told you the other night…” I can hear the conviction leaving my voice as I speak. “He told you what we found out. I—I didn’t hurt anyone. Not like I thought I did anyway. I’m innocent.”
“Wait. What? Then how—”
“It’s complicated. I used to…I used to find a lot of comfort in alcohol and pills, like you. My memory wasn’t…Short answer is I put two and two together and got five.”
Will shakes his head. “You’re lying.”
I spread my palms. “I’m not. It’s the truth.”
The knife thuds to the coarse carpet. Will staggers over to the shiny black leather of the sofa and collapses, his head in his hands. “I don’t understand.”
I walk, zombie-like, to the armchair a couple of feet away on the other side of the archway, kicking the knife back into the kitchen as I sit down.
“To be honest with you, Will, I don’t, either.
A couple of weeks ago, when we came to your house…
James told you I was innocent, that you didn’t have any leverage anymore.
That’s why you fought, right? You said you could stitch me up for what happened to my exes anyway, using the letters. ”
He looks up, brows furrowed. “James came over that night to tell me he’d changed his mind about the deal we made for me to come back to work. Said I should forget about it. Not contact either of you again. He promised that if I pushed him, if I went to the police, you’d shut me up for good.”
“So you were threatening me?”
“Not you. James.”
It’s like someone’s toppled the chair and I’m falling backward, a violent drop in my belly.
“What?”
“I wasn’t thinking about turning you in. Well, that’s a lie—I’d considered it—but this was mostly about James. It’s always been about James.”
“What about James?”
Horror and pity inch across his face until they’re the only things I can see. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“He told me you knew, told me you’d do anything to protect him. That’s why he told me about your past. He wanted me to know you’re dangerous, too. That you’d hurt me if I spoke.”
“Spoke about what?”
“The girl he killed.”