Chapter Twenty-Four
TWENTY-FOUR
This was not the first time Shepherd had walked into a room unannounced and found Ginny talking to herself. This was not even the second time. But every time it happened, it worried him a little more.
“Ginny?”
She was pacing in front of her X-Files poster, muttering under her breath.
Her wild blue eyes landed on him for half a second, her ranting momentarily paused, before she turned heel and started again.
The only words he could really make out sounded an awful lot like “bleed” and “blood” and “plague”—really, it was no wonder she and Lex got along so well.
“Sweetheart, I think you need to eat something.” He stood in front of her with his offerings, jiggling the basket under her nose. “At least, so your brother doesn’t get it, eh?”
“I hate him, Shepherd!” She snatched a roll from the basket and tore it in half.
Shepherd nodded in agreement.
“I hate all of them!” She grabbed a piece of fish off the plate and shoved in between the pieces of bread.
Then she stood there, in front of Mulder and Scully, and inhaled her makeshift fish sandwich.
Like Lex’s half-brother’s snake that had been in his restaurant, Ginny just unhinged her jaw and devoured it.
“OK.” Shepherd set the food down on her desk and tried not to think about the sandwich or snakes. “We can leave whenever you want. I’ve got my keys.”
She shook her head, started pacing again. “I can’t leave. I’m the only one here who cares about my mom. Which is crazy because I don’t even like my mom!”
“Um.” He rubbed his eyes. The spot between them pulsed, and his shoulders were tight around his ears.
What he wanted to do was sleep for about an eternity.
What he was doing instead was this. “I mean, we all have parent problems, right? I’ve got Mom-drank-a-lot issues.
Dad-ran-out-on-us issues. I will say, though, I think you’re the only one with evil-warlord-grandfather issues this side of medieval times. ”
“He isn’t evil!” Ginny snapped. “He’s selfish—there’s a difference. We’re all selfish. It’s a Kent family tradition!”
Shepherd held up empty palms. “Hey, hey. You’re not selfish, Ginny.”
“Of course I am. That’s the entire reason I’m even here trying to help my mother. I can’t let this go on for too long or the police might start to get suspicious.”
He cleared his throat. “Suspicious about what?”
“Look. OK.” Ginny crossed the room and locked the bedroom door. For good measure, she grabbed a chair and shoved it under the handle. “Sit down,” she said, and motioned him to the bed. He didn’t need to be told twice. He collapsed onto the edge of her bed, his entire body thrumming with relief.
“Are you thirsty?” Ginny didn’t wait for an answer and instead opened a small mini fridge Shepherd hadn’t even noticed. It contained a filtered water pitcher, several sodas, even his favorite brand of beer. “I had the housekeepers stock it for us.”
“You have a mini fridge?” Shepherd asked, stupidly. Obviously, she had a mini fridge. He’d just checked out all the contents.
“Scared of the dark,” Ginny replied, pouring two glasses of filtered water. She stuck the pitcher back in and closed the fridge with her hip. “And it’s very dark out there at night.”
He accepted the glass. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”
“What, irrational fears? From the guy who’s scared of his own customers?”
“Don’t use the truth like it’s an insult, Virginia. I was just asking a question.”
“OK, Preston, do you want to hear about my crazy family or not?”
He grimaced. “Not really. But I think I have to know, now. It’s like watching a slasher movie. You gotta see who is under the mask.”
Ginny sat down next to him and tossed back her water like it was tequila shot. “OK.” She coughed. “So. The stepkids down there, giving the Flowers in the Attic vibes? Those are the kids of husband number three.”
“I thought your dad was husband number three?”
“No. My dad is husband number one and four. Husband number three died on his Mediterranean honeymoon cruise with my mother. He fell overboard in the one section of the ship that didn’t have camera coverage. The only section.”
“Um.” The glass was heavy and cold in his hands. He held it against his forehead, the condensation running down his skin. “OK?”
“That, by itself, wouldn’t be such a big deal, if it wasn’t for husband number two. Shepherd, I need you to be serious right now.”
“I am being serious.” He finished off his water because he needed something for his mouth to do, or it would surely smile. “What did husband number two do? Look at how serious I am, Ginny. I didn’t even laugh about number two!”
She gave him a perusing glance, up and down and back again. While there was judgment in her eyes, having her full attention made his blood flow in a direction he didn’t want blood to flow at that moment.
“Tell me about number two,” he said, to try to get the blood back up to his brain. His lips trembled, but he did not crack a smile.
“OK. So. Don’t freak out.”
Shepherd’s blood flow immediately returned to normal. “I hate when you say that.”
“Husband number two also died shortly after marrying my mother. He was alone—that’s important.
They found him on the toilet. No autopsy was done because he was an older man, and it was put down as natural causes.
He is peacefully buried in his family plot and he cannot be—do you understand me?
—under any circumstances, exhumed and given an autopsy.
He simply can’t. But if just one police officer or FBI agent gets suspicious about my mother, all it takes is one do-gooder cop putting their nose where it doesn’t belong, and now husband number two gets autopsied.
I don’t know what they’ll find. Could be he did die naturally.
Could be he’s been dead long enough it won’t matter either way.
The point is, it shouldn’t happen at all. Do you understand me?”
Shepherd swore, rubbed at his eyes again. The pounding between them was even harder. Chaos, always chaos.
With Ginny, there was always chaos following close behind her every step.
He sighed, resigned himself to his fate.
This was the lot he chose the moment he followed Ginny into that meth house.
Even before, when he agreed to be her pretend boyfriend.
Maybe even before that, when all she did was smile at him and he gave her a job on the spot.
This is what he’d chosen when he got her number and started texting her after work each day.
This is what he’d signed up for when he’d introduced her to his daughter, when he’d started talking to her about his ex, when he’d given her an inch of his life and she’d grabbed on with both hands and taken a mile.
“Shepherd?” Ginny asked, her voice soft. Worried.
He cracked his eyes open and found her staring at him, biting her bottom lip.
Her lashes were wet. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears were red.
Her hair hung loose against her pale shoulders.
“Yeah. I get it.” Shepherd used his thumb to wipe away her tears.
His hand lingered on the side of her face, his fingers weaving into her hair.
“We have to save your mom before the police find out she’s a serial killer. ”