Sarah shoots me a look that says I’ve overstepped my bounds. I shrug now because I don’t care. If she wants my help, I’m not going to cower because she wants me to be weak, bend to her every whim like grass in the wind. Certain things I’ll let go, but not everything. Not this. She’s in denial and she shouldn’t be.
"Matt cares about you," I say, pushing her even further. She gets this big, fat wrinkle between her brows but I don't give in to her snarl. She needs to hear this, and since I'm doing her a favor here, I don't care what she thinks about it. "I don't know his side of the story. I only know what you’ve told me. But obviously, he cares more about you than you realize. Or, if you do realize it, you don't care. You take it for granted."
"Don't presume to tell me—"
"No." I don't mean to, but I snap. Sarah flinches, which I kind of feel bad about but not really. She can't go around talking to people the way she does. "You tell everyone what to do, how they should feel, but when someone does it to you, you refuse to listen. You're stubborn, Sarah, to the point where you're going to push people away. It's not possible to know everything and be right all the time. I know what you've endured. Your life. I know how strong that has made you. And I know this anger that you project to the world is the mask you choose to wear because it's easier to keep people at a distance that way. I get it."
"And how could you possibly understand, girl from the future?" Sarah asks, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at me like I'm dirt on her shoe. "Isn't your life hunky-dory over there, where technology is great and nothing bad happens and—"
"Bad stuff still happens in the future," I tell her. "It's not the same, but it's still bad. Just different." I pause and swallow. "And I know because I used to do the same thing. Except, instead of being angry all the time, I used to sleep around. With guys. Guys who I did like and I did enjoy my time with. It just wasn't because I was in love. It was because I didn’t want anyone close to me, so I used sex as a way to protect myself from letting myself get too deep with anyone. I pushed people away and thought I was strong because I didn't need anyone but myself. But that's shit. You know it. And I know it." I let out a breath I don't realize I'm holding and then feel compelled to add, "Also, just so you know, it's normal for girls to sleep around even though they aren't engaged or married or even in committed relationships. It's normal."
Sarah rolls her eyes and waves my comment away. "I don't care about your sexual exploits," she says. "Have you forgotten I run a brothel filled with such things?" She looks away and I decide the question is rhetorical. "I protect Matt because that is all I know how to do. It's what I've done my entire life."
"You don't have to do that anymore, Sarah," I say. "You're allowed to be taken care of. You're allowed to be catered to. You deserve it. You need to figure out how to trust Matt. Because he wants to help you, just like I do. And don't think for one minute that I don't know the only reason you're letting me help is because I am from the future." I press my lips together and look back at her face. "The difference between me and Matt is that I don't care. Matt does. Don't push him away. He doesn't deserve that, and neither do you."
Sarah is quiet for a long moment. To me, that is a victory. Her eyes narrow on her lap and I think she's processing my words, taking them in and letting them settle inside of her.
She's a good big sister. There's no doubt in my mind of that. And she wants to do what's best for Matt. She wants to protect him from things, even though he's an adult. Even though he can handle himself.
There's a tugging in my heart and it makes me wonder if I yearn for the close bonds of a sibling. I've never really cared all that much beforehand except maybe when I was little and got lonely, but now that I see what Matt and Sarah have, I can't help but wish I had it for myself. Maybe if I did have it, I wouldn't be so torn up about whether I should stay here or go back home.
"So, what do you suggest I do?" Sarah asks, turning her face up so she's looking at me. "Billy wants to call the guard—the same guard who arrested me and wanted me to hang. I don't want them anywhere near my establishment. In fact, I have no idea why they haven't come and arrested me again. Surely they know I'm still on the island, resuming the practices that got me arrested originally."
I shrug. "Maybe Matt is protecting you too," I say. I give her a look that implies she should at least consider what I'm saying, that as protective as she is of her brother, there's a good chance he feels the same way about her.
"What do you suggest I do, then?" Sarah asks, and I can tell it takes a lot out of her to ask me this. In fact, she adds, "Since you seem to know everything."
I refrain from rolling my eyes at her pettiness and shrug my shoulders. "I actually have no idea what I'm talking about," I tell her. "I don't have a brother or a sister. I just know that Matt wants to be your equal. He already has a mom and a dad, and even though you were more of a parent to him than they were, you're still his sister and he needs his sister right now, not anyone else. He needs you to trust him, to see him as the man he is, not the boy he was."
"And how do I do that?" she asks, quirking a brow. "How can I see him as a man to be trusted with important things when I hear he's still trying to woo my girls?"
Sarah has a point, but her reminder is like a punch to my heart. I've been trying to forget what I saw a few hours ago, and even though Matt has tried to seek me out, I've become the coward I've always hated and avoided him like the plague. I don't want to hear excuses or justification or any explanation of what I walked into. Clearly, the two have a history and I don't need—or want—to hear about it. At all.
"I don't know what you want me to tell you," I say. "I'm not going to defend his actions or explain them. But he's still a man, Sarah, free to do what he wants. Even if it is stupid."
Sarah's lips quirk up. Another victory.
"May we talk about Briyella?" she asks.
I nod, appreciating the change in subject. I can't talk about Matt with other girls right now. It's just not in me to do it. It's like my heart is a crumpled-up piece of trash that can't find its way into a garbage can.
"Where do we go from here?" she asks. It's then that I notice the dark circles under her eyes. Her grit, that determined glint in her dark eyes, looks as though it's been snuffed out. "We examined the body. Matt found a good place to bury it. Investigators weren't called, the guard knows nothing of her death, but I feel as though besides the residents of my establishment, no one knows what happened to her. You took your notes. Have you discovered anything? Or are you too consumed with my brother to actually think about anything else?"
I feel my face get set on fire after she doused me with gasoline. How could I have assumed Sarah lost her grit? Why would I ever think that?
"I"—Sarah stops, looks away. Then she looks back at me. "I don't mind. I like you. And he does too. I just feel overwhelmed. I feel like I'm not doing anything to honor her. I can't just sit still when my girls are still in danger. Yet I don't think I'm doing anything productive. She's in a graveyard with an unmarked grave. I don't even know if she has a family we need to be aware of. I don't know anything."
Tears spring into her eyes and I swallow because I'm surprised and can't believe that she's so open to sharing this side with me.
"Okay," I say. I don't coddle her. I don't dare go over and hug her. The best thing I can do for Sarah is to pretend I don't notice the tears or the quiver in her voice. "Let's talk. Obviously, whoever did this had an issue with Briyella. She was strangled to death by hands. That’s an intimate death. I’m sure we can assume she would have struggled, which means her killer has to be strong. Do you know of anyone who would harm Briyella?"
I pause. I know I should tell Sarah about my encounter with Stephanie. But I don't feel confident accusing her husband of possibly having an affair with her, killing any people who may have found out about it, and then trying to find his lover and possibly kill her too. Sarah may or may not believe me—probably not—and I might get thrown out of the brothel
for even accusing him. It wouldn't matter how much Matt likes me. He's Sarah's husband. She's in charge. And right now, I have a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and no psycho trying to kill me to keep quiet.
Yes, a voice says, but said psycho is trying to find Stephanie so he can kill her. You don't want her blood on your hands, do you?
I don't. I chew my bottom lip and wring my hands together. I'm trying to think of the most appropriate response without giving myself away. Maybe I shouldn't tell her for the sake of my life, but there are other ways. Sarah could figure things out on her own. She's smart enough. I just need to plant the right seeds.
"How well do your girls know one another?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
"What do you mean?" Sarah asks.
"You know," I say. "How many of them are friends? How many talk to each other, that sort of thing?"
Sarah thinks for a moment, teasing her thumbnail between her teeth. "We're all friendly with each other," she says. "I want my girls to feel like they're part of a family. I want them to feel comfortable coming to me about anything. I know they fight, but I can't say for sure how friendly they are."
I inwardly curse. I needed Sarah to realize Briyella, Karina, and Stephanie are all friends. More than typical brothel-buddy friends.
"I do remember," Sarah says and I hold my breath, "that Stephanie ate breakfast with both Briyella and Karina." Her voice gets a tone attached to it, like the cogs in the clock are turning and she's coming to a conclusion. "And we have two bodies and one missing girl." Sarah slams the table and stands. "You're brilliant, Isla! Stephanie did it."
"Wait," I say, my hands on my hips. "Wait. Okay, what's Stephanie's motive, though?" At Sarah's blank look, I elaborate. "Why would Stephanie want to kill her two friends? Think about it. You’re only looking at it from one angle: one girl is gone, two bodies are found, therefore gone girl is the murderer, but what if she left for a different reason? What if she left because she’s scared?”
Sarah frowns, her brow hanging low over her eyes. “Why would she be afraid?” she asks.
“You tell me.” I take a step forward. “Come on, Sarah. You’re smarter than that.”
Sarah narrows her eyes. “Watch it,” she says dangerously.
I don’t pay her any mind. “Put yourself in her position,” I say. “If you’re Stephanie and you didn’t commit the murders, why would you be scared?”
Sarah glances away, thinking. “I don’t know,” she says. I can tell this is eating away at her patience to the point where a frustrated wrinkle sits between her brows. “I might run away because I’m afraid the murderer is going to come after me.”
“Awesome,” I say with a nod, ignoring her perplexed look. “Yes, great. Why would the murderer come after you?”
“Because…” Sarah lets her voice trail off, her fingers tapping her chin. “Because so far, the murderer has only killed my girls. There’s a pattern.”
“Yes,” I say, “but the three girls in question know each other as more than just colleagues. They’re friends. That’s important.”
Sarah nods, her eyes narrowed. “The murderer might come after me because he or she specifically targeted the trio,” she says. I open my mouth to respond, but she pushes further. “Or because he or she saw something. Stephanie knows something. That’s why she left. Not because she did it but because she knows who’s behind this.”
“Yes.” I nod my head enthusiastically. “Excellent.”
“Well,” Sarah says, her eyes flashing to mine. “It’s not really excellent when our only source of information has vanished.”
“We’ll figure this out, Sarah,” I tell her. “Let’s just hope…” I let my voice trail off. I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to say. I don’t want to lie to her, but I don’t want to baby her either. I shrug helplessly. I have to finish the sentence because now she’s looking me expectantly. “Let’s just hope with Stephanie gone, that’ll be the end of it.”
Sarah tilts her head to the side, her long red hair pooling over her shoulder. She’s pretty, in a strong way, and I’m suddenly angry, furious with Billy. Not only for all the murders obviously, but for what he did—what he’s doing—to Sarah. She doesn’t deserve this. No one does.
I need to tell her. If not for me, for her. Because two girls were murdered. Because Billy is cheating on her. Because Sarah doesn’t deserve any of this.
“Sarah,” I say. I have no idea what I’m going to say but I know I’m going to do it. “I need to tell—”
At that moment, the door opens and Billy walks in. When his eyes find me, he furrows his brow.
“You’re still here?” he asks, looking between me and Sarah. “I didn’t realize you lot talked about monthlies for this long.”
“What are you—”
“Sarah,” I say, interrupting her. She stops talking and shoots me a puzzled look. She’s been giving me a lot of those looks lately. I suppose I deserve them. “Um, so I’m not used to having monthlies here.” Billy doesn’t know where I’m from, doesn’t know I’m originally from the future, so I try to keep things mysterious while trying not to be weird about it. “So I wanted to know how to handle it when it happens. Like, do you guys use towels down there when—”
“Sarah, when you’re finished, I need to speak with you,” Billy says, interrupting me. I swear his cheeks are pink with embarrassment—which is good because he totally deserves to be embarrassed.
Sarah nods and Billy disappears as quickly as he can. She turns to me and raises a skeptical brow, shooting a look at my pelvis. “You’re bleeding, then?”
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m due in a week, though, so you can tell me all about that stuff then. I’m really looking forward to it.”
“What did you want to speak to me about?” Sarah asks.
Oh. Right.
Maybe Billy will slip up. He did say he needed to talk to her. Maybe he’ll tell her, or she’ll figure it out, so I don’t have to. Maybe I should wait just a bit longer.
“Nothing,” I say. God, I’m chickenshit. “I’ll let you talk to Billy.”
Before she can say anything else, I leave and head to my room.
Chapter 16
A gentle knock on my door startles me. It’s not even because of the illicit investigation taking place in this brothel. It’s not even because Karina and Briyella’s murderer is still free. It’s because I’m a coward.
I’m afraid.
I’m still afraid.
Well, no.
I just…I can’t tell Matt. I can’t tell him how I’m feeling because I don’t even know what I’m feeling, and every time I try and figure it out, I get so frustrated—at myself, at the situation, at Matt—that I stop and tell myself I’ll come to it later.
Later is too late now.
What happened yesterday with almost telling Sarah and a few days ago with Matt… I don’t know if I can make it better. I don’t know if it’s done. I can’t have sex with Matt until I tell him I love him, or, at the very least, want to be with him in a committed relationship. But I can’t do that until I figure out if I want to stay here in the first place. I won’t lead him on, and not just because Sarah threatened me. I won’t lead him on because it’s not right and he doesn’t deserve it.
He’s the last person to deserve it.
This is getting too real.
Not that what I’m doing is anything better. Hiding. Avoiding him. Avoiding trying to figure everything out.
Because once I do that, it’s real. Once I make my choice, I can’t take it back. Once I make my choice, there’s no going back.
What if I make the wrong one? What then? What do I do if I realize Matt is an asshole and I can’t go back home? I refuse to stay here because of a guy because as much as I love him, he’s not reason enough for me to give up everything. Does that make me cold? A heartless bitch? Possibly. But this choice is too important to be taken so lightly. Love isn’t even enough to maintain a relationship. More go
es into its success, like trust and honesty and respect and a sense of humor and all those other things.
I love Matt. Oh, shit. I love him. I do. But it’s not enough.
For some reason, my eyes water as my door opens and I try to wipe them away because there’s no way I want Sarah to catch me blubbering on her bed about Matt, except it’s not Sarah. It’s Becky. When she’s fully in my room, she closes the door gently behind her, and I swear, from the way she’s looking at me, she knows what I’m thinking about. She knows what conclusion I’ve come to. But I think she knows that that’s not enough for me to decide.
“I didn’t tell you to come in,” I say, blinking away the last evidence of my emotions and looking away, out the window. The curtains are open during the day, and the sun would have been shining if it hadn’t been overcast. I like the weather, though. It reflects my mood.
Becky shrugs and takes a seat at the foot of my bed, keeping a safe distance between us. At least she knows that much.
“Isla,” she says, “we need to talk.”
“I don’t have the time to talk,” I reply. “I’m sure you already know because you’re a witch or a gypsy or—”
“An angel?”
“Two murders occurred here. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”
She shakes her head and doesn’t look one bit sorry. “You are my only concern, Isla,” she says.
"That is bullshit!" I yell out in frustration. I can feel the anger flood my bloodstream and I have to literally ball my fingers into fists and clutch at the coverlet on my bed to keep from leaping up and clawing her pretty blue eyes out. Which, I know, is a bit much, but the frustration I’m feeling because of her is clawing at my insides and it's been pent up because I don't want to take my problems out on anyone who doesn't already deserve it. "You know it. I know it. Because if I was really your concern, you would have given me some kind of warning. You would have helped me instead of just sticking me here to fend for myself. You think you care about me? You don't even know what the word means!"
To Ruin a Rogue: Page 13
