Drawn To You: A Psychological thriller

by Ren Montgomery

  “She was a doctor, right?” he asked as he hugged her to him.

  “A trauma surgeon.”

  “And she died of cancer?”

  “Breast cancer.”

  “How old were you?” He began stroking her hair, and she closed her eyes, enjoying his gentle touch.

  “I was sixteen when she was diagnosed and almost nineteen when she finally passed. The class we met in, that beginning painting class? It started, literally, two weeks after her death.”

  “Oh my gosh, Ruby. You are so strong.” He kissed her temple. “What an awesome daughter you were.”

  “I guess.”

  He resumed stroking her hair. “I can’t even imagine losing my parents. What about your dad? The article said he left when you were a baby. Have you kept in contact with him?”

  She laughed harshly. “No. When he left, he cut all ties. I don’t even have a picture because my mother destroyed them. I tried looking him up online once, but I found nothing, so he’s likely homeless or dead.”

  Sean just stared at her. “…And you’re really estranged from all your brothers and sisters?”

  “Yeah. They’re a lot older than me. The youngest is ten years older, and my oldest brother is almost eighteen years older than me. They have a different, stable father, and they always resented me because my dad caused so many problems.”

  “What problems?”

  “Financial, mostly. Even though my mom was a doctor, Lou racked up a lot of bills during their short marriage. She rebuilt her wealth again, but it was hard, and all the money problems happened while Chris was in college, and while Eliza was about to go, and then there was no money for it, and they had to take out loans. My father wasn’t around to be angry with, but I was. We haven’t spoken since mom’s funeral.”

  “But surely you could work things out.” Sean said, sounding distressed. “They’re your family!”

  “Why pretend we’re close?” She turned over and he spooned her.

  After a while he said, “How’d you end up so far north? You grew up in Southern California, right?”

  Ruby sighed. “Yeah. As I said, my mom got sick at the end of my junior year in high school, and when I graduated, she was given six months to a year to live. I ended up deferring college for a year to care for her. It wasn’t hard. I just dispensed her meds, supervised the nurses, and made sure she was comfortable.”

  Ruby remembered how crazy and mean her mom had become after diagnosis. Ruby had been accepted to Gibson, and she’d started packing a full two months early, she was so desperate to be free. And then her mom had swooped in with the perfect bribe. If Ruby would defer college and care for her until she died, Ruby would inherit everything. To a poor student, that sounded like heaven. Of course, she’d had the will validated first, and then agreed.

  She knew her mother well.

  She thought.

  Ruby had been about to resentfully defer school for a third semester—why wouldn’t the evil bitch just die already—when she’d stumbled across a second will, hidden on her mother’s laptop, which her mom had just started working on. A second will that cut Ruby out of the inheritance she’d earned. One last “fuck you” to the daughter she had never wanted.

  Ruby thought about how easily someone could be made to slip away when they were already heavily medicated and dying of cancer. About how easily one could steal someone’s EpiPens before rubbing peanuts on a butterknife to be strategically placed in the silverware drawer of the highly allergic man who’d once had you arrested for stalking. About how easily one could run down a woman trying to steal your soulmate…

  “When mom passed,” Ruby continued, “she left me everything in a trust, which I finally collected when I turned twenty-five. It was only fair. I’d taken care of her, and my brothers and sisters already had money and good jobs. They were established, and I was just starting out, but my greedy siblings took it as a snub and held that against me too. They contested the will, but it was ironclad and I eventually won.” She smiled grimly. “I’d already picked the farthest college in California from my family. They’re all doctors, lawyers, Indian Chiefs—” she blushed. “…Sorry. Anyway, I wanted to have my own experiences. You grew up here, right?”

  His eyes twinkled. “It’s okay to say Indian Chief in front of me Ruby.”

  “I…know. Did you grow up on a reservation?” she asked. How come she’d never thought of that before?

  “No. My mom did though, and I still have aunts and uncles and cousins in Hoopa Valley, and more in Happy Camp. I love Northern California. Whenever I’m away, I miss it.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said. Though she now realized that she had romanticized the region and what she’d mostly missed was him. Still, the place was beautiful. Now was the time to ask him about marriage and kids. But she had to make it vague. “I saw a picture of your little boy on your dresser, and he’s just beautiful.”

  “Thank you! I’ve always thought so.”

  “Do you want any more kids, or do you just want the one?”

  He brought his head up warily. “I haven’t really thought about it. I suppose I’d like a few more. Maybe a daughter. Sometime in the future when I’m out of debt. Why?”

  “I’ve always wanted two kids myself,” she said, instead of answering him. “A boy and a girl, with the boy first. But I want to be married first, and I think I want to be in my thirties. My mid-thirties,” she said, to stop him from being suspicious about why she was questioning him. “I’ll be twenty-eight tomorrow,” she reminded him.

  “And I’m thirty…” he glanced at his phone, “today,” he said, sounding glum. “It’s after midnight.”

  “Happy Birthday!” She clapped for him.

  “Thanks. I still have to get you a present. What do you want?”

  Your baby? Your hand in marriage? “I’d love anything you gave me. Do you think you’ll ever get married again?” she asked, leaning into the subject.

  He sat up. “Why?”

  “I just wondered if your divorce had soured you on marriage?”

  “No, I’d love to get married again…to the right woman.”

  She longed to ask him what his version of the right woman was so she could become it, but she’d already pushed her luck, and she’d found out what she wanted to know. He did want more kids, and he wanted to get married again. They were a perfect match.

  “How was the funeral, by the way?”

  He put a hand up and rubbed his eyes. “How is any funeral? Sad. It was sad.”

  She wanted to know what Tara’s body had looked like in the coffin, but he might think that was morbid. “Was the casket open or closed?” she finally asked, unable to help herself.

  He made a face. “Closed, thank God. I’m sure getting mowed down by a car does nasty things to your body.”

  Ruby thought back to the broken body she’d seen in her rearview mirror. That it does. “Were there a lot of people there?”

  “I guess.” He sounded distracted.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s just…I was talking to Tara’s sister Emma at the funeral, and she told me the police had found some paint chips at the scene—”

  “Paint chips?” Ruby said shrilly. “From a car?”

  “Yeah. The police are having a lab do a rush job on the paint.”

  Ruby stopped listening, as she thought about her car that used to be red and was now pink. About half red, half pink paint chips linked to Mini Coopers. About prison.

  This was it. She’d known it was coming. Vague thoughts and plans she’d contemplated began to coalesce.

  She was well and truly fucked.

  Unless…

  CHAPTER 35

  The next morning, Ruby was sore and crabby. Though she lay next to the love of her life, she awoke at sunrise after a restless night of nightmares and worry. She needed to call the police today and ask if they had found her car yet. She knew they hadn’t, or they would have called already, but she figured the
call itself would make her look innocent.

  She spent fifteen minutes just watching Sean sleep, her intense longing for him a physical ache in her chest. She was thankful for this time with him, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it would all be over soon. No! Sean was hers now. She would not go to prison because she had disposed of an inconsequential person.

  She glanced at the clock. 7:12. Still too early to begin, but she did have a few other things she could do first. She snuck into the living room and called AAA, then Armstrong Tires. Forty minutes later, a flat-bed truck arrived from AAA. They loaded up Sean’s car and drove away.

  She put her pajamas back on, cuddled up next to Sean, and had just closed her eyes when her cell phone rang with Hal’s ringtone. Dammit. She glanced blearily at the clock. It was 8:42 on a Sunday morning. Why was he calling her so early? And then she remembered and smiled wide. He must have opened her new cartoons, and he always forgot the time difference. She couldn’t wait to hear how much he loved them.

  She silenced her phone and answered it as Sean stirred beside her. “What did I do to deserve a Sunday morning call—you must have read my new toons, huh? The ones with Donovan?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ruby stopped smiling. “What’s wrong?”

  “We have to talk about these.” He cleared his throat. “They’re…different.”

  Ruby breathed a sigh of relief. “I know, and I’m so in love with them. I’ve already written months in advance, and I know I can keep this storyline fresh for a long time.”

  “Ruby.”

  Ruby looked over at Sean and his eyes were open. She threw him a huge grin, whispered, “It’s my editor Hal,” and said, grandly, into the phone, “tell me what you think. And I want your honest opinion.”

  Hal was silent for a moment. “Basically, they’re unusable, Ruby.”

  She’d been so sure he’d love them, that at first his words didn’t register. “What?”

  “They’re not funny. They’re disturbing.”

  Could this really be happening? She was so glad she hadn’t put her phone on speaker. She lowered her voice. “How can you say that? They’re fucking hilarious!”

  “Ruby! Listen to me. You’re right, some of them are funny, in a twisted way, but you’re in family newspapers, and stalking someone is neither funny nor appropriate for this market. It’s scary, and it’s against the law, and it’s not a secondary character you’ve got doing it, it’s Shelby!

  “What are you talking about?” Ruby asked, genuinely puzzled. “Shelby’s not stalking anyone.”

  “Of course, she is! Out of the blue you’ve made Shelby, who’s a popular character by the way, a psycho, as she follows Donovan around taping his conversations and fantasizing about him. It’s not family fare.”

  “Lighten up. Shelby’s a strong woman. She’s got a crush on a man, and she’s being proactive. Boldly going after what she wants.”

  “She violates his privacy, and she breaks the law, and it’s distressing. Can’t you see that?”

  Ruby gritted her teeth. “What I see is the male dominated field of cartooning closing ranks around me to keep me from being successful. That’s what I see.”

  “What?” Hal was practically sputtering.

  “If I were a man, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. Just look at what Garry Trudeau gets away with. Or, or…Aaron McGruder!”

  “They’re not with our syndicate, and your strip is completely different in scope—”

  “My strip’s not that different. ‘Left of Center’ has a dark side and an edge, and I enjoy walking that edge. I should be given the same freedom as the men. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “This isn’t what your fans expect from you,” Hal said.

  “Who cares? It’s my strip and I’ll run it any way I want.” Ruby leapt up and began to pace as she made her points. “And I love the new direction. It’s exciting and—”

  “Completely different from your other stuff. Your fans want Shelby to marry Rick, not stalk Donovan…who, by the way, isn’t the most interesting character you’ve ever created. A broke substitute teacher? It’s hard to believe Shelby would even be interested in someone like him, much less go to the lengths she does to date him. It’s not realistic.”

  She swiped away angry tears. “What do you know? I can totally see it. They’re soulmates!”

  There was a long silence. They were both breathing hard. Hal came back with a different approach. “What about marketing? Think about the new greeting card line in the works. How do you think this passion project of yours will go over?”

  Ruby raised her chin. “Controversy sells.”

  Hal sighed loudly. “You’re not listening. Distributing these strips wouldn’t be in your best interest or the strips best interest.”

  “No, you’re not listening to me! You’re seeing things that aren’t there. These cartoons represent my best work ever, and, well…I’m not willing to change them for you.”

  There. It had been said. It was the first time she had defied him. He was wrong.

  “And that’s your final word?” Hal said, his voice devoid of emotion.

  She took a shuddering breath. “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry, but we cannot, responsibly, send these out. Check your contract. If you refuse to redo them, then we’ll refuse to distribute them. Your client papers will receive reruns for the week, and you’ll be docked—”

  Ruby ended the call. “Rat bastard,” she muttered. She began pacing the bedroom again.

  “Everything okay?” Sean said tentatively.

  “No. I drew some new cartoons, my best work ever, by the way, and my editor hates them. The ass,” she finished under her breath.

  “Are they about stalking? Did you write them because of what’s been happening between you and Jeremy?”

  “No! That’s just it—there is no stalking! Hal’s reading things into it that aren’t there and wouldn’t be apparent to anyone else. I’m so furious I could—” She closed her eyes, clenched her fists, and yelled “Aaugh!” as she flopped back on the bed beside him.

  “How’s about letting me read them?” He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “I’m an impartial person. I’d give you my honest opinion.”

  Ruby sprang off the bed. “Yes! That’s a great idea. C’mon!” She snagged his hand and dragged him out of bed towards the bedroom door.

  “Whoa!” he said, chuckling as he straightened up—naked. “Mind if I get dressed first?”

  She looked at him, bare and beautiful, with mussed hair and stubble on his chin, and she felt overwhelming frustration. Horrible timing. How could she get her period right at the beginning of her love affair with the perfect man? It just wasn’t fair!

  “Actually, I do mind.” She stepped towards him and ran her hands down his chest and stomach, and then around to his ass which she squeezed. Hard.

  She sighed and stepped away. “But dress if you must. I’ll be at my drawing table waiting,” she said, and left the room.

  She had a couple more days before her period was finished, and she could hardly wait. The cuddling and petting were fantastic. Sean had turned into a fabulous kisser, and he hadn’t pushed her for anything more, but she was frustrated—and she’d never felt this frustration before. She’d always liked sex, but before Sean, she’d been willing to wait out her period. It hadn’t even been an issue before. Now she was angry at the interruption. She knew many women had sex on their periods, but she never had, nor did she particularly want to ponder the logistics.

  She sat at her drawing table, unlocked her large file cabinet, and took out her drawings. She had four weeks’ worth drawn and finished, and another two months written.

  She drew her cartoons on 11x17 Bristol board. The dailies were drawn two to a page, while the Sunday took up an entire page itself. She liked the feel of them in her hand. Her originals were large. They took up space. Every week she had something tangible that she had created that wasn’t there before.
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  She began reading them and smiling, and when she got to the one where Shelby staked out Donovan’s house and had a pizza delivered to her car, she laughed out loud. These were hysterical! Hal was so stupid. Sean would love them. They were all about him.

  …Oh shit. They were all about him!

  She couldn’t show these to Sean, and she couldn’t publish them either! What had she been thinking? They were way too personal. If Sean read them, he’d know she’d had a longstanding crush on him, he’d know who Ashley was because she’d been specific, and he’d know she loved him and hoped to marry him and have his baby. Good Lord, these were a powder keg! Hal was right. They were unpublishable. Damn it! …And her best work, too.

  And now she was a week behind deadline. How would she ever catch up?

  She gathered the cartoons into a pile, and heard Sean say from behind her, “Hey, I wasn’t finished with that one yet.” She spun around as Sean, who was dressed in jeans and a kelly-green sweater, picked up the top cartoon from the pile.

  “No! Wait!” She stuffed the rest of the cartoons back into the file drawer and turned to grab that one from him.

  He’d finished it and handed it over willingly. It was a long Sunday panel that showed Shelby searching desperately through the alumni directory at Harrison State College for Donovan Harpo. Shelby’s rage erupted when she found out he was married with a little girl, and Shelby tore apart her kitchen. Ruby had enjoyed drawing all that destruction, with Shelby strung-out in the middle of it all, stuffing her face with ice cream bars.

  She’d done a good job of capturing Sean as a cartoon character. There was no way he wouldn’t get that Donovan was based on him. Good thing he hadn’t read the next one where Shelby left black roses on Donovan’s ex-wife’s porch!

  She took the cartoon from him, stuffed it in the drawer with the others, and pushed the drawer shut with her hip until she heard the lock catch. Sean had an odd expression on his face. “You know…” he started. “Um, that character Donovan kind of looks like—”