Chapter Seventeen
Waiting for Morgan Finch to return home was like waiting for a bus in the pouring rain that was seemingly never going to arrive.
Lee had checked her watch a dozen times now, propping an elbow on the desk that occupied the hallway due to a sheer lack of space in any other room whilst she made lazy circles in her swivel chair, pushing it along the carpet with her feet.
She wondered how people committed to the bit so hard in the movies, a cat sat firmly in their lap with an “I’ve been expecting you,” speech planned out in their head.
Lee Holmes didn’t have a cat nor a speech.
A few days ago, she watched said girlfriend plunge a knife into someone, and since then everything she knew about Morgan Finch had changed, even her schedule.
Something so significant made all the trivial parts of their lives alter simultaneously.
It didn’t matter if her schedule was the last domino in a row of thousands, it all fell eventually.
Perhaps Lee was simply being dramatic, and something as simple as a schedule didn’t matter, but since both of their lives had essentially turned into a screenplay, she allowed herself a little exaggeration.
Everything was most definitely not alright, and although she wouldn’t admit it aloud, Lee Holmes was worried that things might never be alright again.
“I’m not in the business of asking you if we can talk every time you walk through that door, so I’m not going to ask you that.
Instead, I’m just going to ask you a question and in this instance, and in any future instances for that matter, I’ll just want straight up answers, does that seem fair? ”
Morgan paused her journey towards Lee for just a moment, not quite unlike a startled cat, nodding as she stood in place, directing her head downwards towards the carpet afterwards. “I think that’s fair.”
“Who is Arthur Strickland?” Lee asked, cutting right to the chase, her elbow no longer propped upon the desk as her hands sat firmly in her lap.
She felt her fitness watch vibrate on her wrist, alerting her to keep up with her cardio.
Her cardio, in this instance, being her crippling anxiety, raising her heart rate to a less than optimum rhythm.
No longer standing in place, Morgan made her way over to the kitchen, and just as Lee was about to follow, her girlfriend returned with a spray bottle filled with water.
“I’m not going to ask you how you know that name, because I think I already know the answer,” she said, spraying down the plants in the hallway with the moisture.
“But Arthur Strickland is a piece of shit, just like Edward Beckett.”
Sometimes, a singular word meant nothing, and yet at present time, the word ‘is’ meant everything, at least to Lee Holmes. “He’s still alive?”
Morgan chuckled, as if amused by the question, spraying down more plants with her bottle.
“Yeah, sadly, he’s still alive. Listen, Lee,” she said, placing the bottle down upon the floor instead of putting it back where she originally got it from as if to aggravate her girlfriend further.
“I don’t want you to get the impression that I just go around killing everyone I see.
Do I want to kill Arthur Strickland? Absolutely.
The fact of the matter is I can’t, so you can put that worry to bed immediately. ”
Huffing through her frustration, Lee removed herself from her office chair and made her way over towards the spray bottle on the floor, before padding along to the kitchen in order to place it back where it belonged in the cupboard under the sink.
“I can’t believe I’m about to ask this, but why not?
” she said, her tone raised in order to account for the fact that she was no longer in the hallway.
There was a minute of silence before Lee heard boots transfer from carpet to floorboard, to tile. “It’s complicated,” was all Morgan offered, resulting in another sigh from her girlfriend who had now turned to face Morgan as she leaned against the kitchen counter.
“I’m dating a serial killer, Morgan. I think we’re past complicated,” she observed, whirring a hand in Morgan’s direction as if spurring her on to continue.
Morgan sighed, flattening down her shaggy brown hair, an act she often committed to when she was nervous.
“You remember how I told you that Edward Beckett happened to Summer Roberts? Well, he wasn’t the only one involved.
Arthur Strickland was equally culpable in the murder of Summer.
That’s why it’s complicated. There’s a certain…
fulfillment I get when I rid the world of people like Edward, like I’m some fucked up vigilante or something minus the tights and mask, but there’s also a disappointing aftertaste you sometimes get knowing that families like Summer’s will never know what happened to their daughter.
Because no one will ever know that Edward and Arthur killed her.
No one except me…and now you I guess,” she said, motioning in Lee’s direction whilst she herself leaned against the doorway to the kitchen now, as if anxious to enter.
Before Lee could even process what Morgan was telling her, she continued.
“There’s a certain process I have to follow if I don’t want to get caught.
I can’t just kill two people connected to one another.
It’s weird. And more importantly, it raises questions.
I didn’t kill Arthur Strickland, and I didn’t kill the guy I hurt last night, either.
And both incidents are completely unrelated, by the way,” she concluded, as if sensing what Lee’s next question might be before she had even said it.
Lee Holmes had listened to enough true crime podcasts to know that Morgan was accurate in her statements.
One person disappearing was suspicious, two friends disappearing within a week of one another at different times was completely and utterly irregular.
Albeit it appeared that, regular or not, that exact scenario had already occurred.
Putting that aside for a moment, she focused on what Morgan had said about the man from last night.
“You still haven’t told me anything about this guy you hurt,” Lee said.
“I feel like you have been selectively honest up until this point, choosing to disclose only what you want to disclose.”
Morgan Finch nodded, as if agreeing with Lee without saying so. “I was skeptical to tell you because…well, let’s just say it’s someone you know. How do you feel about that?” she asked, hesitantly.
It was at that moment that Lee could literally feel her pattern of breathing change.
Something that came so naturally, so subconsciously, was suddenly all that she could think about.
“I don’t know how I feel,” she admitted, quietly.
“I think the feeling part comes with knowing who it is that you hurt.”
Morgan nodded again, becoming much like a novelty bobblehead.
Lee didn’t mind, though, because it highlighted that she was finally getting through to her in some way or another.
“I…” she said, pausing, attempting to find the right words as she pushed her hair back from her forehead.
“Last night, when Sienna was telling us about Dylan, seeing how terrified she was to go home to him, it was like I could literally feel my blood boil. Like, my entire body got physically warmer. It took everything inside me to hide it. I’m usually so fucking good at hiding it,” she acknowledged, grinning, as if admiring her own accomplishments from the past. “But it was harder than it ever had been last night. I think you can see where this is going…” she trailed off, no longer smiling, her gaze upon Lee’s, as if expectantly.
This time, Lee nodded, noticing at present time that her breathing had stabilized again, as if relieved by Morgan’s answer.
In an ideal world, her girlfriend wouldn’t harm anyone, but if what she was implying was what Lee was thinking, then it was as close to an ideal world as she could get under the current circumstances. “You mean…you hurt Dylan?”
“I hurt Dylan,” she mimicked back. “I’m not stupid enough to kill him, but I also know that he’s not stupid enough to press charges unless he wants the world to know he’s an abusive piece of shit.
Turns out, he’s very good at his craft,” she said, shaking her head with distaste.
“I can only imagine what Sienna went through. Even I struggled to take his punches and I’m a fucking pro at getting beaten half to death. ”
At present time, Lee Holmes wanted to walk over to Morgan and hold her, and yet, the thought of doing so was conflicting.
Holding her felt like rewarding her behavior, and whilst, in this instance, rewarding her was perhaps appropriate, she didn’t want to praise the notion that her girlfriend could simply go around attacking people if, and when, she felt like it.
Instead, she found a happy medium. “I understand,” she said, rather timidly, taking it all in.
“I’m not mad. Not even a little bit, strangely.
Thank you,” she continued, exhaling as she flattened down her trousers, giving her body something to focus on other than the dissipating anxiety.
“Thank you for sticking up for my friend.”
“It’s no big deal,” Morgan said, looking apologetic despite what Lee had told her. “Circling back to Arthur, is there something I should know?” she asked.