35. Veronica
CHAPTER 35
Veronica
Leo left me alone in his apartment a while ago. Now, it is close to eight at night, and I’ve been hiding behind his walls all day, afraid of any little noise from the hallway. I was terrified that the police would return, but luckily, they haven’t shown up again.
His refrigerator is fully stocked, so I helped myself when I grew hungry. I didn’t dare go to my apartment to eat. Or to grab anything for that matter. Not even a change of clothes. Leo’s t-shirt and sweatpants have covered my body since he left me.
When I haven’t been eating, I’ve been pacing around his living room, stepping into his bedroom to stare at my purse on the floor. The bag stares back at me with evil eyes. The weapon I used to kill that man is in there, still covered in his blood.
I should have had Leo take it to the incinerator when he took the other evidence, but I wasn’t even thinking about it. How stupid of me to forget the most crucial piece of evidence!
Sighing, I allow my mind to wander to what happened between Leo and me last night.
I apologized—honestly apologized—to him, and the look in his eyes was that of a child seeing snow for the first time. They gleamed with the light that used to consume his eyes when we were together.
The moment the apology sunk in, I knew I had the old Leo back. It is crazy to think that all I had to do was tell him how sorry I was.
The apology came from the heart that seems to want to grow inside me. The stupid organ has been acting as a brain lately, and I don’t know how to handle it.
Usually, I’m level-headed… Well, as level-headed as a sociopath could be, but now my whole world is getting turned upside down. It’s almost as if someone had switched bodies with me, and I’m stuck living in theirs and harboring their feelings as my own.
But how he handled me last night in the shower, cleaning me while being gentle, made my insides warm. Leo wasn’t surprised by my actions before coming to him.
Why would he be? He knows I’ve killed in the past, but the question is… with the police involved, will he still be the same as he was once I apologized?
Yes, he told me to wait to hide the knife until he got home, which means he is willing to do whatever to keep me safe. But I can’t sit under this roof any longer, knowing the knife is hidden in my purse.
No one has come knocking on the door to search the place, which means I’m safe… for now. If the cops come back and decide to search the apartment, I’m screwed.
Especially that blonde one who pulled up a picture of me before the changes I’ve made. He is suspicious, and I don’t doubt that he will come back by himself. All I know is that if they do revisit the apartments, the knife will be in Leo’s apartment.
A commotion out in the hall catches my attention, and I twist my head in that direction when my feet glue to the ground. My heart about stops, my breathing going quiet so I’m able to listen. There is only one voice, and they are talking on the phone. A laugh makes me jump in my spot, but then I realize it’s Aiden.
Relief floods my system, knowing it isn’t an officer. Then, that idea pops into my head again. It came to me after Leo told me he met Aiden and already hated him from that first encounter.
Getting up from the couch, I crouch by my purse and carefully slide my phone out. I head to the kitchen and scroll to find the contact I need.
The phone only rings a couple of times before Slater picks up. “Hey! What’s up?”
“I need another favor.” I don’t beat around the bush with the reason I’m calling.
“What did you get yourself into this time?”
“Oh, you know, the same old.” A playfulness sits on the edge of my serious tone, trying to hide the severity of my call. “Could you do me a favor and look into someone for me?”
“Depends. Is this person going to wind up dead?”
“No.” I shake my head even though he can’t see. Sitting back on the couch, I bring my knees to my chest. “He just seems sketchy. I want to know what I’m dealing with.”
“Wait… am I doing a background check on a potential boyfriend ?” The tone in his voice annoys me to the ends of the Earth. He is teasing me like a big brother.
“If we were in the same state, I’d find you and stab you.”
“I just never thought I’d see the day you’d get hung up on a guy.” He laughs, causing me to roll my eyes.
Slater always knew I’d never be in a relationship. Late nights at the bar, when I was working, he would try to learn more about me. Not in an “I want to date you” kind of way, but to be friendly. I kept pouring him shots, ignoring his questions until I got fed up and informed him there would be no Mr. Rollins in the future.
I would have rather died than be tied down by a man.
If Slater knew my predicament with Leo, he wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.
“I’m not hung up on him.” Not Aiden. But Leo, yes. “He is my neighbor. He keeps hitting on me and is sketchy. I want to know who I’m living next to.”
“Okay, okay.” He finally backs down. There is typing on his end, no doubt searching for something on his laptop. “What’s his name?”
“Aiden Thomas.”
More typing, then humming. “There are a few men under that name. What does he look like?”
“30s, blonde hair,” I describe him. “Looks like he belongs to a country club.”
“Got him.” He clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “This man is your neighbor?”
The obvious worry in his voice has me leaning forward on the couch. My elbows dig into my knees as my fingers play with my bottom lip. “Yeah…”
“Shit, Ronnie.” He sighs. “I know you can handle your own, but I’m afraid if you find out what he has done, you might kill him.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.” I don’t hide the aggravation in my voice. Slater is the type of guy who builds suspense while telling a story.
“He’s been arrested a few times. Fighting with cops while intoxicated. Possession of drugs.” He stops speaking, likely reading more about him. “He did some time for assaulting a woman.” Another pause. “Scratch that. Multiple women.”
Why am I not surprised?
This might work out in my favor. “Does he have a history with weapons?”
“Uhh—” Slater types some more, and I hear his finger working the scroll wheel on the mouse. “Yeah. He owns a gun illegally. Pulled a knife on an officer once.”
“And he is still walking around like he owns the town.” A breathy laugh leaves me, and I relax back onto the couch. “This douchebag is free for the crimes he committed while I had to be locked away in the nuthouse.”
“To be fair, Ronnie, you killed someone.” It’s not shocking that he knows this information.
The man works with criminals, and even though my parents made sure that me killing my sister’s boyfriend wasn’t plastered all over the news, Slater must have heard through the grapevine.
“What I did should have been considered heroic. Aiden is a sleazeball who can’t keep his hands to himself.” The disgust rolls off my tongue, but then I smirk. Pushing myself from the couch, I walk towards Leo’s bedroom, looking at the purse. “He did kill someone, though.”
“He did?”
“Mhm. Killed a man last night.” I pick the purse up by the strap and walk it to the kitchen, dropping it on the counter. “Stabbed him seventeen times.”
“Veronica… please tell me he’s the one who did it.”
“He did.” My plan was to get rid of the knife by planting it on someone else, and Aiden is the perfect person. “That’s what the police will believe. Thanks, Slater. I now owe you a favor.”
“Veronica! Don’t do anything stu?—”
I hang up the phone before he can finish his sentence. Tipping the purse over, the knife topples onto the counter. The blood is dry, but if I’m going to do this, I need to get rid of my fingerprints. Hurrying to Leo’s bathroom, I search in the cabinet for rubbing alcohol.
When I find some, I sigh with relief. I take it to the kitchen and then look for tape. I’m grateful Leo has this useless stuff in his place. Well, it doesn’t seem to be useless anymore.
Tearing off a piece of tape, I carefully place it on the metal handle and then rip it away. I do this on every inch of the handle, using new pieces of tape, all while not touching the blade.
Once I have removed the fingerprints, I spin on my heel and tear a paper towel. Folding it into a square, I cover the rubbing alcohol opening and tip it over to saturate the paper. Then, I wipe down the handle, getting it squeaky clean.
“What are the odds you have gloves, Leo?” I mutter to myself.
Leaving the knife momentarily, I enter Leo’s bedroom and search his closet, hoping he has winter gloves I could use. In a box to the left, I open it. On top is a floral pair of gloves.
Picking one up, I stare at the colors on it. They were vibrant at one point, now dirtied from years of gardening.
These are his mother's gloves. They would work, but I couldn’t do that to him. I’m already going against his wishes and getting rid of the knife without him. As I set them down, a pair of black gloves catch my attention.
They are on the thinner side, made of wool. They will have to do.
Slipping them on, I stalk back into the kitchen and grab the knife.
As I leave the apartment, I pray for the first time in my life.
I pray Leo won’t be angry with me.