Chapter 19
Nineteen
THEO
Despite rowing every day since we’d arrived in London, I still felt my muscles tiring quicker than usual. I was out of shape.
I breathed through the burn, my eyes flicking from the screen where my avatar cut through the Thames, to the television screen mounted on the wall.
The machine wasn’t the same as rowing on water.
Since my rowing team from Oxford had found it increasingly difficult to meet up over the years, I’d taken to single-scull rowing.
I’d even invested in a scull that I stored at a facility near the Thames.
But it had been more than two months since I’d visited it.
Watching the weather on TV, I noted it was mild enough for the next week to go out there. The problem was I’d become a little consumed with Sarah. Today was the first day since our arrival that we’d parted. She’d wanted to meet her agent by herself, so I’d put her in a cab and sent her on her way.
Perhaps I needed to return to some semblance of my own schedule too.
That wasn’t to say the last few days hadn’t been fun.
I wondered if I’d truly had fun in years after experiencing London with Sarah.
I’d taken her shopping on Oxford Street and convinced her to spend money on a few items of clothing she’d never have bought otherwise.
I’d been admonished by a sales assistant who caught me feeling Sarah up in the changing rooms. Sarah had flushed a delightful pink, and it had been exceedingly difficult to walk away.
We strolled to Piccadilly to shop some more and then returned to Oxford Street in the evening so she could see the Christmas lights.
Afterward, we jumped in a cab to go eat at 34 Mayfair so I could show her their outlandish Christmas bauble display that filled the entire ceiling and dripped down into the room.
The day after that, I took her ice skating at the Natural History Museum.
It had been years since I’d skated, but muscle memory was quite remarkable.
Sarah had skated once in her life, so it took her a while to get her ice legs.
I had to admit to enjoying having to hold her through most of the experience.
Last night, we finished off the day in the West End.
Sarah’s grandfather had taken her to the theater when she was a teenager, but nothing quite like a West End show.
I spent most of the musical watching her and the way she lit up from the inside.
In the past week and a half, I’d gotten tremendous pleasure out of introducing her to new things and was already listing my favorite international cities to take her to next.
A cheer sounded from the screen on my rower, and I realized I’d completed my row. Slowing to a stop, I reached for the water bottle attached to the equipment just as a news report on the television drew my attention.
“Scotland Yard is issuing a new warning to the public today after a fourth woman was murdered two nights ago in High Wycombe,” the news reporter announced.
“The victim’s identity has not yet been released by police, but they revealed in their statement that she does fit the profile of victims in what they’re calling the Hangman murders. ”
Unease flickered through me at the nickname. I’d used that same name in the King’s Valley TV show because North’s character, Charlie King, hung his victims after he’d killed them.
“Police are urging people not to walk alone at night, in particular, women between the ages of twenty and thirty years. Last year the Hangman killed his first victim in December. The second victim was murdered in June this year. The third woman, a primary school teacher, was killed in October …”
I reached over for the remote and switched off the news.
Sarah had been right. It looked like Britain had a new serial killer.
Discomfort rode my shoulders, and I decided if she didn’t return home from her meeting with the agent by sundown, I’d go out and meet her.
She was older than the other victims, but she didn’t look it.
And yes, I knew the probability of Sarah becoming a victim of a serial killer was unlikely, but one could never be too careful.
Twenty minutes later, I’d just gotten out of the shower when I heard banging on my front door. A rush of pleasure filled me as I wondered if Sarah had forgotten the spare key I’d given her.
I opened the door with a grin that promptly slipped off my face.
“Sebastian.”
My brother glowered at me as he bulldozed into the apartment.
“Well, come the fuck in,” I snarled, outraged.
“Shut the door,” he demanded like a typical, entitled peer of the realm.
Since I didn’t want my neighbors to hear my business, I did indeed shut the door.
“What the fuck do you want?” I followed him into my living room, eyeing the way he studied my home with a pinched expression.
“For you to stop saying fuck, for starters,” the pompous bastard admonished like I was a schoolboy.
Drawing on my patience, I plastered on a neutral expression. “What are you doing here, Sebastian?”
“I honestly don’t know.” My brother suddenly looked exhausted. “I should be at work. But my PI told me you’d come home.”
I wasn’t even surprised he had a private detective following me. “You’re a piece of work.”
“You dropped off the face of the planet, Theo. Of course I had people looking for you.”
I bloody knew it.
“Well, as you can see, I’m dandy.”
“Yes.” He glanced around. “Where is Ms. McCulloch?”
Anger filled me and I fought hard not to show it. “You investigated Sarah?”
He shrugged like it was normal to look into who your brother was sleeping with. “She’s not your usual type. A housekeeper at Ardnoch. Really?”
At the sneer in his voice, I warned blandly, “Be careful, brother.”
“Don’t tell me you have actual feelings for this woman?
You know her mother is a junkie? She was raised by her grandfather on a farm in the Highlands.
There’s no record of previous relationships or any kind of a life, for that matter.
She’s just a quiet nobody, and bringing her into your world like this when you have no intention of keeping her is a level of cruelty I did not expect even from you. ”
Indignation wrapped its hand tightly around my throat and my voice was but a whisper, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Yes, I do. I can see my words hit their intended target. Good. Perhaps you’re not a complete sod after all.”
“If you just came to insult me, you can leave.”
“I came to tell you that Father is recovering well.”
“And you thought I cared? How pathetically naive.”
My brother’s expression tightened. “You know what … I wish that I didn’t care about you.”
I flinched. I hated him for getting a reaction out of me.
“For years, I’ve carried guilt for the way I handled things with you over Father and Saffron.
I’ve attributed your entire personality change to Mother’s death and Father and Saffy’s betrayal …
but it’s been years, Theo. At some point, I just have to admit that you’re never going to be the boy I remember. ”
Pain slashed across my chest.
“You’ve turned into a selfish, self-indulgent, bitter, and uncaring prick,” he spat. “And this woman you’re carting all over London, spending your money on, dressing her up to play the part … what happens to her when you grow bored? Do you even care?”
I could barely hear over the blood rushing in my ears.
“God, I hope that look on your face means you care enough not to be a selfish cur. Maybe that means there’s a little of my brother still in there.”
When I continued to stare blindly at the floor, I heard him huff, seconds before he strode out of the flat, slamming the door behind him.