"Part of you does. That's why you're in trouble," Jacoby said as she drained her glass. "You can't separate hate from love. And I'm not seeing anything indifferent in your reaction."
She wanted to scoff at the word love. It was too soon for that shit. She'd enjoyed her time with Vance when he'd been a Motorcycle Man one-night stand. She'd enjoyed sparring with him at times, but she couldn't erase how he'd drugged her and questioned her for three days.
Although she could say that, if things had been reversed, she might've done the same thing.
Dammit. "What am I going to do? I fucked this up. I hurt him so bad."
Jacoby sighed. "You're talking to the poster child of hurting the one you love. If you can apologize, explain, you'll get through it."
"You didn't see how he looked at me."
"I saw those same looks on Ward's face. Trust me."
Chapter Fifteen
Abby wasn't sure exactly what she was crying about, starting in again hours after Jacoby left. She supposed the entire situation was a weight on her, and coupled with the news she'd just found out…
She wanted to know more, why Ethan wanted Vance to watch out for her. Did Ethan have a stalker before he died?
More information she'd never known about Ethan.
Her hands shook. She grabbed a blanket from the couch and lay on the living room floor between the two couches where she'd crumpled. She pushed the ottoman to the side and just lay there in the small, cocooned space.
She'd never felt more emotionally vulnerable. She had to admit that she'd fallen hard for Vance. That was a big part of the reason she'd gone so nuts at his admission. Maybe she had guilt where there should be none, or maybe she was telling him there should be guilt where there shouldn't be.
Ethan and Vance were nothing alike. Yes, they both held high-adrenaline jobs, but while Ethan's energy was laid back—chill—Vance was a goddamned fireball of energy that could send people screaming into the night. He was louder, more aggressive and not anyone Abby could ever see herself with.
So why couldn't she picture herself with anyone but Vance since the second she'd laid eyes on him?
This had to be the last thing Vance expected. He didn't plan for Ethan and Abby to break up. That happened naturally, as she and Ethan drifted apart.
She sat up like a shot as Ethan's words rang clearly in her mind.
Brother is a very important theme in your life.
Before he told her that, they'd just broken up over the phone. Since most of their relationship had occurred there, it made sense. And Ethan hadn't been surprised at Abby's admission that they'd become better friends than anything.
He'd even agreed. "It's not a bad thing, Abby."
"No. Definitely not." Still she'd been a little sad, but a lot relieved. If the passion was missing in their relationship, it hadn't meant that she was unable to feel. She'd spent a lot of her life wild, rushing from one one-night stand to another in order to try to feel.
She always let herself down in that regard.
"Do you believe in soulmates?" Ethan had asked then. She'd stared at the ceiling and bitten back her initial answer of no, and Ethan had laughed because he'd known her answer. Whether or not he knew her that well or it had been a bit of his second sight coming into play, she hadn't been sure. It didn't really matter, she supposed. "Abs, you've got to believe in something."
"I believe that bad people exist," she'd told him. When Ethan muttered under his breath it was her turn to laugh. "What? You're being way too optimistic for my tastes."
"There are soulmates."
She couldn't resist joking. "Since we've broken up, I'm guessing you're not mine."
"Never was." Ethan sighed. "It helped that I know who is." She hadn't gotten a chance to question him about that, because he'd continued, "Brother is a very important theme in your life."
"As in Teige."
"As in brother," he said firmly, not really answering her question. As was his way when it came to anything he "saw."
Vance saw Abby pulling into a parking space in front of his loft. He figured she would come there for more cutting words that he absolutely deserved. Maybe he wanted to be punished.
But not enough to bring himself to her house. Even after Jacoby told him she was on the floor, Vance decided to give her a wide berth. Or maybe he was giving himself one.
His muscles tensed to the point of pain as he waited for her knock on his door. When it came, he called, "It's open," and a hesitant second later, Abby slid through and closed the door after her.
She looked upset. Confused. She probably felt abandoned and he felt terrible about that, even though he actually hadn't abandoned her at all.
"I should've come back to you," was the first thing out of his mouth. He hadn't planned on saying it but it was the absolute truth.
"No. Not after what I said to you. I was horrible."
"You were pissed. You had a right to be. Still do." He couldn't bring himself to walk over to her. Kept flashing back to the night she flinched when he came after her. What had he turned into in the search for Ethan's killer? He was scaring innocent women under the guise of protecting them.
"Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong," she told him firmly as she approached him. He was sitting on a barstool in the kitchen and she moved close, put her palms on his thighs and looked up at him. "You needed to find out if you could trust me. You needed to find out what I was made of—if I could be in it for the long haul."
"There were other ways," he started, his voice tight, but she cut him off.
"There weren't. You know that." Her eyes were red-rimmed but bright. Determined, really. "How long were you watching out for me? How long before I met you in the bar."
"Six months," he admitted, then added, "You haven't been happy."
"No, I wasn't," she breathed. "Spending those first nights with you—"
"When I was pretending to be someone I'm not—"
"Bullshit. You were you, Vance. And I was happy. I told myself it was because I was able to not think about work, but I've been out before that, before you." She laughed a little. "I was thinking about Ethan tonight, after you left. About what he said to me…about soul mates."
She looked like she'd expected him to scoff, but instead, he nodded.
"He talked to you about it too?" she asked.
"Yeah. Ethan was…one of a kind in that regard."
"I remember the last thing I said to him." She hugged herself now as she told Vance. "I didn't know his phone was going to cut out. We were talking and I told him that I believed that we were all judged by our last, worst act. I didn't know that those would be the last words I'd ever say to him." At the time, she hadn't realized it, but looking back now, it most definitely had been the last time she'd spoken to the real Ethan.
"You couldn't have known."
"Did he?" she asked. "You know he was psychic, that he knew things. Did he know he was going to be killed?"
"I'm not sure it works that way."
"Maybe. But he wouldn't have told us if it was, I'm betting."
"I'd take that bet," he agreed.
"Did you really believe I could be involved with whoever stalked Ethan?"
"You have no idea some of the shit I've seen. I didn't want to believe any of it," he said flatly. "But I needed to believe in you—so fucking badly you have no idea."
"So tell me why?"
They were going to keep coming back to this, going round and round in circles until they destroyed each other.
Abby deserved the truth. She wouldn't like it, but he could only hope she'd forgive him. "For six months, you were safe. I thought you were out. I never would've approached you if the threat level for you hadn't risen."
"When did it?"
"The day you got the call from the stalker posing as Ethan," he said bluntly. "That's when I knew he wanted to keep you in play. Keeping my distance wouldn't help shit. He wanted me with you. Wanted me to pick up where Ethan left off."
; "That's sick," she blurted out and immediately regretted it because of the hurt expression that flashed briefly across his face. "I didn't mean—"
"I know."
But he didn't. Not really. "It's sick that he thinks he's orchestrating what's happening between us," she explained.
"He forced us together."
"He didn't force me into having feelings for you. Did he force you to have feelings for me?"
He gave a short laugh and glanced up at the ceiling. "Definitely not. They were there, no matter how hard I tried to stop them." Before she could question him about that, because he wasn't prepared to talk more about that—yet—he continued, "I'm in danger, but you're in just as deep.”
"But I don't understand—with Ethan gone, I'd think the stalker wouldn't want me with someone else. Isn’t that the point, to get me alone?" She spoke slowly, frowning at him. He waited a beat until the realization registered in her eyes. "Vance, no. No. No."
She kept repeating "No" as if that would make it be not true. In return, he gave a half shrug, even though it was so much bigger than that and admitted, "I'm who the stalker's after. I'm in danger, but you're in just in deep. When you and Ethan broke up, he went after the stalker hard—no more fun and games. And he lost. The stalker won. I really thought…I thought you were out. I never would've brought you in if this bastard hadn't done it first…"
"How long?" she demanded. When he didn't answer, she shoved him, hard against his chest. "How long has this guy been watching you?"
He blinked. "I didn't notice."
"How long, Vance?"
He cleared his throat. "Ethan said…fuck. He’d said it’d started when he’d first gone off to college. That’s when he’d first noticed it."
"You're kidding."
"I wish I was." He shook his head, his jaw tightening. "He had way more of a hard on for Ethan—I was easier to follow for a lot longer. I was in college for the full four years. I stayed put. Ethan gave him more of a challenge. I was always the backup. The 'just in case.' But now…"
Now, Vance was the full-timer.
Abby watched him carefully. Getting this much information from Vance was a gift, but it was a lot like disassembling a bomb. Each move had to be careful and precise not to jar anything and impede the process. "Ethan didn't know? I mean…"
"His sight didn't work like that. Fuck, if it did, I'd have had him hunt the guy, then play lotto and we'd be kicking back in Fiji right now."
"Point taken."
He sighed. "Look, he couldn't get a feel for the guy. It drove him nuts, like the guy was blocking himself somehow. Ethan felt like we knew him but hell, how many people did that add up to between us?"
All true facts. Abby was just beginning to see how very complicated this case was. "Ethan never mentioned this guy showing himself?"
"Never. If it happened, Ethan played it close to the vest."
If Vance was lying, Abby couldn't tell. She'd have to go with his version of events for the moment. But it sounded like something Ethan would do. "So what do we know about the stalker?"
Vance looked like he wasn't going to tell her anything, so she was surprised when, seconds later, he launched into a list. "It started when Ethan was in his first year of college. He hadn't been sure if he'd be going to school or the military, but our mom had begged him and he'd gone to St. John's reluctantly. When this stalking started, it bugged the shit out of him, but he hadn't thought much about it, other than to take it as a sign that he belonged in the military. So he enlisted after his first year."
Abby's mouth dropped. "It's been going on for that long?"
Vance nodded. "Yeah, that long."
Twelve years. How could Ethan have stood that? "It must not have been that intense at first."
"It wasn't. It was more of an annoyance, and honestly, it was probably only because Ethan was Ethan that he noticed it at all. Other people probably would've blown it off. Like, he'd find some of his things missing—nothing big enough to report. Most would think they'd misplaced their things. And then there would be things like appointments getting canceled or moved. It seemed more like bad luck than anything, but Ethan could feel that someone was doing it purposely. Again, he couldn't figure out who it was though, or settle on why someone would do it."
"So he couldn't pinpoint anyone he'd had issues with."
"No. Ethan got along with most everyone. He didn't deal well with bullshit but he handled it in a low-key way. He was the kind of guy everyone loved." He stared at her, probably realizing he'd been talking to her as though she hadn't known Ethan at all. In some ways, she hadn't. In some ways, it was important for the case that she depersonalize all of this.
She swallowed hard. "No frats?"
"No."
"No girlfriends with jealous exes?"
"No."
She sat back. "How was a stalker able to follow Ethan from college to boot camp through some of the toughest environments in the world?"
"That's the question Ethan kept asking himself. He would say, I wish the guy would show himself because I'd make sure the CIA gives him a job immediately."
She stared at Vance. "He never thought the guy could be CIA?"
Vance looked to a place over her shoulder then settled his gaze back onto her. "You know how fucking creepy that shit would be, that a CIA creeper caught onto Ethan in college and managed to follow him through to…"
To his death.
Very creepy. Worse still, that he'd now latched onto Vance. "What if this is about more than a stalking?"
"I thought about that," Vance admitted. "But Ethan's stuff, his personal effects, all got sent to me." He went to the closet and pulled out two boxes, placing them down next to each other in front of her.
She opened one of them, almost hesitantly, feeling somehow like she was invading Ethan's privacy. What she saw inside made her realize his privacy had already been violated a million times over. How he hadn't lost his mind was beyond her.
"He couldn't keep a home because the guy would cancel the lease, turn the gas and electric off. Cancel credit. Ruin it." Vance shrugged. "Ethan repaired it and the guy would fuck with it again. If I look at it clinically, it's like one big mindfuck of a training, but training has a means to an end and this was neverfuckingending."
That was most certain. Abby sifted through letter upon letter—hundreds of them. "Why am I thinking I'm only scratching the surface?" she asked after looking inside one and seeing pictures of Ethan, doing the most mundane of tasks. Constant surveillance. She couldn't imagine living like this, then wondered if she actually had during the entire time she and Ethan had been dating.
Vance glanced at her ruefully. "He'd rented storage facilities. By the time I'd gotten to them, they'd been taken out of his name and emptied. Ethan must've shipped these off and then…" He paused, bowed his head. "They got to me the day I found out he'd been killed."
"Do you think this guy has been keeping tabs on your life the entire time?"
Vance stared at her, surprised. That expression soon changed to upset, then frustration. He stood, then walked over to the window, hands stuck in his pockets at he stared out into the night.
Whether Vance hadn't thought of that, or he'd been trying to pretend he hadn't thought about it, Abby wasn't sure. But she did have another piece of the puzzle about to fall into place. "Can you tell me…" She trailed off, almost afraid to ask and partially because she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
"You want to know how Ethan died," Vance said flatly. She nodded. His eyes closed like the thought physically pained him, and then he opened them. "You deserve to know. I didn't tell you because…"
"I know," she assured him quietly.
"He was found hanging. It was a suicide."
Her hand flew up to her mouth to stifle her sob. Her mind spun. And then another puzzle piece clicked into place, and instead of being upset, she was mad as hell. "The CIA believes it was suicide, don't they?"
"Yes," he admitted, his voice tight.
"They're covering for someone," she continued and he shrugged. "Those bastards."
"There was a note."
"The guy can write like Ethan," she said. "Vance, you know there's no way—"
"Suppose he did, Abby?" he asked, a plaintive tone in his voice, and she listened, because he deserved that. "All those years of torture, of being followed… maybe Ethan realized he'd never get rid of the guy. That there was only one way out."
"Even so, Vance, I still consider it murder. The fact that Ethan was driven to kill himself, to me is worse than the stalker killing him outright. There are no clean hands for him." She heard the vicious edge to her own voice. She was shaking, and if the stalker was here in front of her, she swore she could easily kill him with her bare hands, rip him apart. Gladly listen to him suffer.
"Don't, Abby," Vance warned and she started, realized that she'd been speaking her murderous thoughts out loud.
"I know you feel the same way," she told him.
"Ethan would never want you to go there. Not after…"
Not after she'd watched her father lose himself to a deadly obsession with a serial killer.
How easy to get pulled in. She'd never understood, until right this moment. Other cases had gotten personal for her, but this? This was beyond anything she ever could've imagined. There was no wanting to talk, to reason, to psychologically outwit the stalker.
She wanted him dead. And she could easily sink into her rage. Roll around in it, squeeze it, let it drip through her fingers like oozing slime. It was enthralling. Exhausting. Seductive.
Wanting to avenge Ethan's death somehow made her feel superhuman.
But she wasn't. And that was the trick, the part she had to remind herself of and step off the rage ride.
Because this was orchestrated by the stalker too. He wanted this reaction from everyone in Ethan's life. It pleased him. Fed him.
Because when she was enraged, the stalker was in control. And no fucking way to that. She drew a deep breath and met Vance's worried eyes. "I'll stop you from going to that place. And you stop me."
Vance nodded. "Deal."
Walk In My Shadow: A Gripping Romantic Thriller (Mirror Book 3): A Mirror Novel Page 10
