by Kitty Thomas
“Good, then we’ll go as soon as you get ready.” He put everything that looked like an impromptu dungeon, back in the lower desk drawer and gave me my lingerie, then took out his laptop. “I need to make a private call, so if you’ll close the door behind you.”
I nodded absently, still not sure I’d heard him right about going out for dinner. Though why shouldn’t we go out? I’d already proven, given total free reign and him probably out of the state somewhere for days, that I would return right back to my crate like a good dog.
“Do you want me to take the candles?”
He glanced up sharply, that look of disapproval on his face. That would be a no.
“O-okay.” I bumbled awkwardly out of his office and shut the door. Now with my memories back, I knew I’d been somewhat sexually adventurous. At least before Professor Stevens. And I’d been largely comfortable with my own nudity even outside of a sexual context.
A lot of people separated nudity into categories. There was shower nudity, always okay. There was sex nudity... largely essential and normal and nobody felt uncomfortable because everybody naked was engaged in a shared naked activity. And then there was random walking around the house nudity, which most people were only okay with inside a long term relationship involving plenty of random nudity.
I had been okay with random nudity, even in a full frat house after all the sex and games were over. I was just that way. But with Shannon it was different. I felt so overwhelmingly awkward when he looked at me that way outside a specific sexual context. If we were engaged in some naughty activity, fine, but otherwise... let’s just say I was more than relieved to close his office door and be outside his line of sight.
The white cat gave me a dirty look and stalked me up the stairs. I’d meant to ask Shannon how nice the place was and what I should wear, but I’d been caught off guard by his continued irritation over the candles, the way he watched me move, as well as knowing that this private call most likely involved his latest hit.
There was no way I’d go back in there and interrupt such a call to ask about wardrobe, so instead, I selected a simple navy summer dress with a cardigan to go over it. It was still winter... if you could call it that. The temperature had peaked at fifty-five, and wouldn’t drop below forty until well after midnight.
I took a quick shower and got ready, pausing only briefly in front of the bathroom mirror to inspect the burn marks left by the wax. I’d played with candles and wax before. Most of the time, it wasn’t nearly so scary because we usually used soy wax since it melted at a much lower temperature than paraffin. So it stung a little, but didn’t usually leave marks behind.
In truth, I kind of liked these marks. And if I took care of it, they wouldn’t linger very long. I applied burn cream from Shannon’s first aid kit and finished getting ready.
When I descended the stairs, he was waiting for me on the living room sofa, stroking the white cat, who had rolled onto her back so he could rub her belly. She hissed at me.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
The cat jumped off the sofa and flounced off to another part of the house in full-on diva mode.
Shannon input the code, and I followed him outside to his nondescript black hitman car and got into the passenger side. I managed to wait until we were out of the neighborhood before I asked the question that had plagued me for days now.
“Why did you leave so fast that morning? Was it because of what I told you? About my professor?”
Shannon didn’t reply, but he gripped the steering wheel harder, and the muscles in his jaw and running down his neck tightened noticeably.
“Let’s just have a nice dinner, and we’ll talk about it when we get home.”
I was sure I couldn’t have a nice dinner until after we’d talked about it, but I didn’t want to ruin things.
“Are you going to let me leave the house more?” I asked.
“Of course. You’re not a prisoner.” But the way he said it wasn’t very convincing.
Sure, I wasn’t a prisoner. He’d just made clear on more than one occasion he was never letting me go and stated in pretty absolute terms that he felt I belonged to him. Why would I think I was a prisoner?
“Are you still mad at me about the candles and wine?”
“No. I wasn’t mad to begin with. But you knew I wouldn’t like it.”
I was quiet for another ten minutes until he pulled up beside the restaurant and turned off the ignition. The restaurant was in what had once been a somewhat old-fashioned cottage in the historic district.
“Oh my God, Shannon. Please, please for the love of God, talk to me about it now! I can’t have a nice dinner if I don’t know what the fuck is going on. You just ran out right after fucking me, and you didn’t even say goodbye. You were just gone. Whoosh. Then you were mad when I called. And then I thought you just didn’t want me at all because the balcony was unlocked and there was money and it was just all too easy. Does what happened to me change how you feel?”
At this point, I was sure I just honestly didn’t care if he dragged me out and strangled me in the parking lot. There was no way I could sit in a restaurant and politely eat pasta in romantic lighting without knowing what the fuck was going on.
Shannon, for his part, looked perplexed. He turned in his seat to face me. “Why would it change how I feel? How I feel about what? About you?”
I nodded. And all of a sudden I felt like a complete moron. Whatever he felt had to be infinitely smaller than what normal humans felt in romantic relationships, and here I was cornering him... asking him to define everything. To explain himself. I was being the where is our relationship going girl to the last guy on the planet who wanted to hear it.
“Why would it change how I feel about you?” he asked quietly. He seemed to really be struggling trying to figure out the complex algebra I’d laid out.
“You don’t think I’m dirty or tainted somehow? Like... like damaged goods?”
“No.”
As much as I was grateful for the silence with him, for the lack of intrusion and overwhelming emotion and smothering, I needed more than one word. Damn.
Shannon’s expression darkened. “I left because I was losing control of my emotions. I never lose control of my emotions. It disturbed me that I didn’t feel I had control of myself, and it’s always been the one thing I’ve felt sure of, that I was in control. Knowing what he did... I thought sex in the shower that morning would take the edge off, and it didn’t. Then I thought the job would. The job helped some, but not nearly enough. I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”
It was like a chorus of angels singing. I’m going to kill that motherfucker.
I couldn’t help the smile creeping up my face. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t mask the utter joy at the idea that not only was Professor Stevens going to pay for what he’d done, but Shannon was going to do it. It almost made up for the tragedy of crying for Trevor. Almost. I would have given almost anything to go back in time knowing the truth, and to coldly watch Trevor die without mourning him.
“I want to go with you,” I said.
Shannon hesitated. “I really work better alone.”
“I have a right to be there. This is my vengeance. Not yours.”
For a moment it felt as though the two of us were two pieces that came together to form one whole, that nothing made sense without both of us together as one unit.
“Let’s eat dinner. Let me think,” Shannon said.
I didn’t push further because I knew that ultimately he would decide if I got to go or not. Even if I ran away from him and tried to do it all on my own, I wouldn’t know where to begin, and I would very likely get caught. And I wasn’t going to do time for my bastard professor.
It was hard to appreciate the restaurant. I wish I could have. It was warm and cozy with what seemed like endless candles. There were some low lights recessed into the ceiling, but the sheer proliferation of candles made it seem as if the space
was lit entirely by candlelight. The food was amazing, authentic. I felt as though I were actually in Italy.
But no matter how nice the atmosphere or how good the food, my mind kept going back to Professor Stevens and the giddy sense in my stomach that finally, finally, something in my life was going to go right. Finally, someone who had hurt me would pay. Finally, there was a man fully in my corner and on my side who was focused on the same dark goal as me.
Neither of us spoke much during dinner. Shannon seemed in his own world, planning this impromptu pro bono job. I didn’t even have to pay him for it. He was clearly set on doing this no matter what. Even through just the course of one dinner, I could see how his energy shifted to this one idea. I wasn’t sure if all of his thoughts were about planning the logistics or if he was also considering my involvement—perhaps running parallel scenarios in his head of how it would go down with just him versus adding me to the mix.
I was surprised when he ordered us dessert. I’d expected, with his current intensity level, that we would eat quickly and leave.
I was sure the other patrons in the small restaurant were looking at us strangely. I wondered if they thought we were in a fight or something. It was extremely odd to be in such an intimate setting sharing a romantic dinner in utter silence. Then I started to worry. Wouldn’t the people of Stoney Oak gossip? This was such a small town after all. Shouldn’t we at least make the pretense of small talk?
But before I could make any real effort in that direction, we’d finished dessert and the check was unobtrusively placed on the table.
“I’ll take that when you’re ready, Mr. Mercer.”
“I’m ready now,” Shannon said, pulling out his wallet and sliding a credit card inside the payment folder.
When the waiter slipped away to process the payment, I noticed a familiar person amble over. It was June from the boutique near Shannon’s house.
“Shannon! I thought that was you! I can’t believe you missed the last town meeting. We were discussing whether or not we should cut down that huge diseased eyesore of a tree in front of the courthouse. The historical shade tree committee was there, and put up quite a fight, but we won in the end. After all, it might be a three hundred year old tree, but it was well past the point of survival, and we all knew it. It would have been nice to have you there. I know you would have been on our side.”
“Absolutely, Mrs. Privet. I hate that tree. It should have been cut down years ago,” Shannon said, his voice soothing and warm. It rang a little hollow to me, but June didn’t seem to notice.
I was certain that Shannon didn’t give a shit about whether or not the tree in front of the courthouse was removed. I was surprised he actually attended Stoney Oak town meetings. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing Shannon would do. But then I remembered how he’d said he wanted to fit in when he was a kid, and I thought maybe there was a part of him that still did. Though, I was sure it wasn’t just that.
All at once his choice to live in a small town began to click together for me. These were the he was such a nice man, I can’t believe he would do that people who always seemed to pop up out of the ether to defend serial killers and other violent criminals. The people of Stoney Oak were an unwitting line of defense for Shannon. Should suspicion ever fall his way, they would instantly leap to his defense as character witnesses and alibis—unwitting accomplices to his illicit jobs.
“I noticed you two weren’t talking much. Everything all right, I hope?” she prodded.
Shannon smiled, a practiced friendly smile. I couldn’t believe he could actually pull this off. Ladies and gentlemen of the academy, give this man an Oscar.
“Everything is wonderful,” Shannon said without missing a beat. “I’m afraid I’m a bit pre-occupied planning our next trip.”
June appeared immediately interested. “Oh? What exotic locale is it this time?”
“Thailand. We’re going to a small village that is in need of clean water and helping with the effort there.”
“That’s just lovely,” June said, clasping her hands to her chest. I thought she might swoon at any moment if someone didn’t show up to catch her. “When do you leave?”
“A few days,” he said.
I wondered where Mr. Privet was. Shannon had given her the married form of address. I wondered if her husband knew how she pined for Shannon.
She turned to me, suddenly, “This one’s a keeper. You hold onto him. I don’t believe I caught your name?”
Smooth. No, I hadn’t told her my name during my earlier visit to the boutique. I imagined she’d already asked half the town trying to gain that information to no avail.
“Elodie,” I said, forcing an artificial smile that didn’t seem to come as naturally to me as it did to Shannon.
Before June could intrude further, the waiter rematerialized with Shannon’s card and receipt. He signed and added a tip, then stood.
“Well, Mrs. Privet, I’ll see you at the next town meeting, after we return from Thailand.”
“I hope you’re bringing Miss...”
Damn, she did not let up.
“Evans,” Shannon supplied. Not my real last name.
“Elodie Evans, yes we do hope to see her at the meeting.”
Shannon navigated the social etiquette of disentangling ourselves from the curious Mrs. Privet, and we made our way out to the car.
“I don’t think you should have given her your real first name. It’s too uncommon,” he said.
“I was put on the spot. What was I supposed to do? Besides, if I’m going to live here, it makes little sense to give a fake name I won’t remember to answer to. It’s not like nobody has my name. Besides, if somebody did remember it, they probably remembered it wrong. They probably think my name is Melody. People called me Melody all the time.”
Shannon was quiet as he started the car and we pulled out onto the road. Finally, he said, “I’m just careful. You know that.”
“I like that about you.” I’m not sure why that popped out of my mouth. It just felt like the thing to say. I did like that about him. It made me feel safe because he always thought of everything. I felt as though nothing could ever thwart or harm me while Shannon was around thinking so many steps ahead, always on high alert.
There was a little moment between us that I can’t quite describe—as if he were trying to determine if he should acknowledge that I’d said I liked something about him.
Apparently deciding against it, he instead said, “I hope you know, she’s going to Google you the moment she gets home. Let’s hope if there’s an Elodie Evans, she proves interesting. But not too much.”
Chapter Ten
A few days later, Shannon had worked out all the logistics of killing Professor Stevens and had agreed to let me join him. He left a large amount of food and water out for the white cat and left all the toilet seats in the house up in case she knocked her water over. For someone with no soul to speak of, he had grown skilled at caring for small animals.
We pulled out of his driveway all packed, at eight that morning. He made it a point to drive through the middle of town to wave at Mrs. Privet. She waved back from behind her shop window, a dreamy smile on her face.
It occurred to me that June Privet was now part of Shannon’s alibi should something go wrong. I wondered how else he’d secured his Thailand alibi. I was sure he must know someone overseas who would claim he was there, helping bring clean water to some poor village. What a saint. He probably had a whole back story. Without a lot of tedious emotional baggage and drama to deal with, Shannon had lots of mental space to concoct all sorts of alibis and backup plans for every possible contingency.
Though I reminded myself it was just a contingency. Shannon planned things too well to have need of any of them. We couldn’t fly with the weapons, airport security being what it was. He told me that when he did big jobs overseas, he was sent by private plane. There was nobody bankrolling this job but Shannon, so we wouldn’t be flying private, though a
part of me thought we probably could if he really wanted to.
I was sure he had a stockpile of money hoarded away somewhere. He lived nice, but modestly and didn’t appear to own anything too extravagant. But I knew being a contract killer wasn’t like being an accountant. There was some big money sitting around somewhere. It was possible that Shannon only did enough work to keep him in a modest comfortable lifestyle, but I had begun to be able to see the itch creep over him. It seemed increasingly likely to me that he took nearly any job that came his way just so he could feel like a normal person for short stretches of time and convince the rest of the world of the same.
It took nearly a week—with stops at night to sleep—for us to reach our destination on the other end of the country. I hoped my plants would be okay. Most of them could go a while between waterings without freaking out, but I was still concerned. I couldn’t help it. I’d say it was an occupational hazard if I’d ever gotten the chance to use my schooling in an actual occupation.
Every night during our journey, Shannon stopped at a run-down motel in some out of the way place, just before the front desk closed for the night. He always went in. I stayed outside. He always paid cash, and I was sure he was using a fake ID. Just like that first night, he always got a room around the back, away from any possible passing traffic, and backed the car into the parking space so the license wasn’t visible to anyone else who drove around for a secluded room in the back.
The primary difference in these nightly stops was that he didn’t seem paranoid if I took a longish shower. He no longer assumed I was fashioning weapons out of bathroom pipes, and he didn’t tie me up for the night. Well, he did one night, but that was sex games, and it wasn’t as if he made me sleep like that.
On Professor Stevens’ Day of Reckoning, we arrived at our destination a little after midnight. The Professor lived a few blocks from the university campus in a heavily wooded neighborhood. It was a full moon, but the moon was obscured by thick cloud cover, making the street even darker than it would normally be. There were no street lights on Professor Stevens’ street, which was just fine for our purposes.
