“I’m not going in this week,” he said, rubbing his eyes as a kaleidoscope of colors blinked in his line of sight.
“Because of what happened at the Library,” she said, under her breath.
“Yes … and no.”
He sat down and realized he was pretty much naked. He grabbed a pair of balled-up sweatpants and put them on.
“I know you’re sorry…” Jamie began, but Kyle jumped up and ran into the bedroom. He returned with Devil’s Hopyard in his hands.
“He killed her,” Kyle said, waving the manuscript. “It’s all in here. He’s responsible!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Mia Evans!”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“My girlfriend,” he said, and Jamie crossed her arms, looking like she was ready to stab him. “In college. She was my girlfriend freshman year, the one I told you about. We were selling drugs together and she disappeared.”
Jamie grabbed his arms to calm him down. He was talking too fast for her to understand. She had never seen him like this before.
“Kyle, you’re not making any sense—”
“The cops thought someone took her, but they never found any leads. Eventually they figured she ran away.”
“I came here to talk about us.”
He wrestled away. “You don’t understand. William is the reason she disappeared. He killed her and hid her and ate her fucking heart!”
Jamie directed Kyle over to the couch and sat him down.
“You’re drunk,” she said evenly. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
“I had a nightmare. I’m living that nightmare.”
He shoved Devil’s Hopyard at her. “It’s all there. The girl in William’s psychotic book is named Mia too.”
“It’s just a name,” Jamie said, talking to Kyle like the nurses did those days he spent in the psychiatric ward long ago. Like he was crazy.
“It’s not just a name. Mia Evans made the papers. She was a big cold case in Connecticut, like the girl never turned up. Why are you defending him?”
“I’m not, he—” Jamie started welling up, dabbing the tears away before they ruined her makeup. “I went over to William’s place, he’s subletting in the city.”
“Why would you do that?”
“It was after what happened in the Library…”
He clenched his fists. “Jamie, there is nothing going on with me and Sierra.”
“I’m not sure I believe that.”
Kyle stood up and grabbed Devil’s Hopyard from her.
“Every problem between us over this last week was orchestrated by William. At first I thought he was plotting revenge because I didn’t want to publish this … thing, but he’s got a bigger plan.”
Jamie shook her head. “I can’t deal with this in my life right now,” she said quietly.
“I’m in the book, Jamie. I’m a motherfucking character. It’s me, he’s described me. I’m part of the story.”
“You’re not listening…”
He smacked himself on the forehead, frustrated. “You are not listening. This is bigger than us right now. Look, I love you, and I would never, ever cheat on you. I promise.”
“I love you too,” she said, not bothering to wipe away the tears anymore. Mascara lines dripped down her cheeks. “But this isn’t healthy. You’re not healthy for me.”
Kyle held Devil’s Hopyard close. “The answers are in here, don’t you see? What’ll happen to everyone next could be in these pages, or maybe he hasn’t even written it yet, maybe he’s waiting to see how it’ll all play out before he writes the end.”
She shivered. “He told me things about you, Kyle.”
“What? What things?”
“When I went over to his place. It’s fuzzy, though. I had a few drinks, I was upset.”
“Whatever he told you is a lie.”
She rubbed her head. “It’s so strange, I can barely remember that whole day, like someone carved it out of my brain. I kinda remember showing up at his place and I remember leaving, but everything else is just dark.” She covered her mouth, the night at William’s place slowly coming back. She opened her purse and reached inside, feeling for the pepper spray.
“William told me about a girl who went missing too,” she said.
“Yes, that’s Mia.”
She nodded, slowly getting up, her hand still digging around in her purse.
“He said you came to his house the night she disappeared,” Jamie said. “That you had blood on your hands.”
“I did. It was my blood. I had a fight with Mia and punched the wall.”
“He said your knuckles weren’t scarred. That it wasn’t your blood.”
“This is his plan,” Kyle yelled, flipping trough Devil’s Hopyard, hoping to find the evidence that proved his accusations. He still had a good chunk of the book left to read. “He’s gonna put her disappearance on me. He’s already planting the seeds.”
Jamie stood there, no idea how to react.
“Of course I didn’t kill her, Jamie. I loved Mia. She was my first love. When my dad died, she held me for hours.” He planted a hand on his forehead, just realizing. “Oh shit, William was the professor she’d been seeing. She probably wanted to end it with him and he snapped. You’ve seen him, he fucking snaps, right? And now this whole reunion between us, mentor and protégé, it’s all been to set me up for her death with his goddamn book to prove it.”
Kyle put on his sneakers and shoved his wallet and cell in his pockets.
“I need to go to Connecticut,” he said, swiping Jamie’s overcoat off the hanger and putting it on.
“What? Kyle, that’s my coat.”
He wrenched it off and took his own instead. “I need to prove that William killed Mia. Between his wife, his kids, there’s a fucking town filled with secrets from ten years ago and someone knows what happened.”
“Kyle, stop, this is ludicrous.”
He got in her face, seething. “I can’t believe you thought I could’ve hurt her. That I was capable of—”
“I didn’t—I don’t know what to think.” She chucked her purse and the pepper spray to the floor. “But this is what I mean. I’m meeting another investor today and look at me. You’ve gotten me all insane. That’s what you do. You get people wound up in whatever you’re obsessing over.”
“Wait, you still think this is just an obsession?”
“I think you are both obsessed, with each other. I think William has gotten caught up in his writing as if it was real, and you think you’re editing the next In Cold Blood. And yeah, maybe he is messing with you to see how you react and then using it for his book, but you’re letting him. And now I’m letting you both make me crazy.”
She fixed her hair until the rogue strands were pressed down.
“Yes,” she said, reassuring herself, “that’s exactly what’s happening. Your life has always revolved around fiction, both of your lives. This is your wet dream, your own twisty thriller. And you’re sucking me in, you’re both sucking me in…”
Like a zombie, Jamie walked into the kitchen, wet a paper towel, and dabbed her face. She took her time, eyeing herself in the toaster until she was presentable again.
“Elka recommended me to a friend,” she said, throwing out the paper towel. “The woman is one of those Upper East Side ladies-who-lunch types. Botox parties. A little dog named Jacques in a purse. She shits money, okay? And when I woke up today, I swore she would be my priority, but my morning was free. So I got on the train to see you because I didn’t like how things ended and I missed you and I missed us. And then just before I knocked on your door, I got this bad feeling, like I was making a mistake, like seeing you was the last thing I needed. It wasn’t the first time I felt that way.”
“Even before William entered the picture?”
“This isn’t about him.”
“I’m not creating all of this.”
“I know you don’t think you ar
e, but trust me, Kyle, this is how you operate. You need chaos, you chase it, you’re drawn to it.”
“That’s not true.”
“These stories from your time in college are only further evidence. Drugs, jail, a psych ward, a missing girl. And as an adult, you’ve ended every relationship you’ve had after six months. When things get normal for you, you get bored. If William hadn’t come along to get you manic, something else would have.”
Kyle looked at her as if she was the unbalanced one. “Something bad is going to happen,” he said. “And I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t try to stop it.”
“No, you’ve cast yourself in your own novel now, and all you want to do is write the next pages.”
She headed back into the living room, picked up her purse, and threw in the pepper spray.
“It’s why you can’t commit to anything. Because actually having a lasting relationship isn’t dramatic enough for you. God, you couldn’t even commit to a cat.”
“Yeah, well, William fucking killed Capone too. What do you think of that?”
“Just stop—”
“Ripped the cat’s heart right out of his chest and stuffed your underpants in its place—”
She slapped him across the face. He took it, letting her get out her frustration. If she was a part of William’s terrifying game, William would make sure her story came to an end—either broken up with Kyle or way worse. Which was why he needed to go to Connecticut and uncover the truth before Jamie became William’s next gruesome plot point. If the bastard wanted them broken up, he’d grant his old mentor that wish … for now.
“I need to go, Jamie.”
“You’re not gonna deal with what’s happening between us right now? I’m angry.”
He shook his head.
“Aren’t you going to say anything, Kyle?”
“No.”
“Asshole.”
He was unable to look her in the face. He had never hurt anyone this bad, and she was the last person he ever wanted to hurt. But he had no choice. Jamie was stubborn. She’d never listen, since she didn’t want to believe that fiction could be fact. But he knew he would be her undoing if she remained tethered to him. So he’d make it appear to William that he and Jamie parted ways. In reality, after all this was over, he’d explain to her why he had to do what he did. That he was the hero of this tale, and the only way to keep her out of danger was to let her go. Kyle needed William to keep thinking all his fucked-up plans were in motion, long enough to create a distraction until he could be brought down. Kyle swore he’d find a clue in Killingworth that would prove what William had done: a slipup, a crack in his mentor’s intricately designed web.
He’d be the one to decide how this whole tale would end, not William, never William.
24
AFTER JAMIE LEFT, Kyle took a shower, packed a suitcase, and headed over to a Kinko’s. He spent an hour scanning the pages of Devil’s Hopyard onto a file, just in case it had to be e-mailed to someone. He then rented a car and set his GPS to Killingworth. Ideally, he would’ve taken the train so he could dig deeper into Devil’s Hopyard, desperate to know if William was definitely pegging him for Mia’s disappearance, but like most towns in Connecticut, a car was essential to get around. Halfway there on I-95, his phone rang, and he answered it on his hands-free device.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Kyle, it’s … Sierra.”
He cringed at the sound of her voice. The last time he’d seen her was at the Library, when she tried to kiss him. He hadn’t had time to think about how he’d fix that mess.
“I didn’t hear from you so I figured I’d call,” she said, barely above a whisper. He could tell she was trying not to cry.
“It’s been an insane last few days,” he said, rubbing his eyes, feeling the exhaustion creeping in.
“I’m so, so sorry for what happened.”
“It was a misunderstanding,” he said, short with her even though he didn’t mean to be. “And alcohol was involved.”
She sniffed back her tears. “I just wouldn’t want this to jeopardize any professional relationship we had. I’d understand if you didn’t want to be my editor anymore.”
“It won’t, and … maybe I’m to blame too. Maybe I made you think—”
“It’s easy to believe in something if you tell yourself over and over it’s true.”
He looked at the Devil’s Hopyard manuscript, sitting in the passenger seat.
“Tell me about it.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
His eyes welled up and he wiped them with his sleeve. He was far from okay, losing himself. Would the rest of his life be dictated by what was immortalized in some novel?
“Kyle…?”
“I’m headed to Connecticut,” he said, wanting her comfort, needing someone on his side. “I’m afraid things with William have gotten really bad. He’s trying to ruin me.”
“He only had nice things to say about you. He called himself your mentor.”
Mentor. Kyle never wanted to hear that word again, the very thought of it—evil.
“If he contacts you—”
“He hasn’t.”
“If he does, Sierra, I think he’s very dangerous. He’s not well. Don’t be fooled by his charms.”
“Okay…”
“Are you writing again?” he asked, finding solace in the image of her cross-legged on her bed, a laptop in front of her.
“I’ve been distracted since my party.”
“Distraction is bad. Have you written one great thing about yourself today?”
“Don’t think I can come up with one.”
“You’re resilient,” he said, almost as if he was speaking to himself.
“Okay, I like that.”
He pictured her smiling. “Now get back to Girls Without Hope, that’s an order from your editor.”
“I will. What are you planning on doing in Connecticut?”
He swallowed hard, his mouth like the Sahara. “I’m taking care of business that should’ve been wrapped up a long time ago.”
* * *
AS KYLE PASSED the road sign for Killingworth, he felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. It had been a solid eight years since graduation, and he hadn’t returned for his five-year reunion, but as he headed down an off-road trail, it was like he’d never left. A flood of mixed emotions made him nostalgic for the good times at Bentley, when freshman year was firmly in his rearview and he was able to tell himself it had been a blip in his life rather than a permanent penance. Of good times with Cathy, reading Steinbeck to each other naked in bed, of quiet moments when he would allow memories of Mia to invade his thoughts. Sometimes he’d trace his finger across a globe and wonder where she disappeared to, never thinking that William could have known the answer.
Was it nuts to think William had been involved in Mia’s disappearance, or was this nothing more than some twisted ploy to drive Kyle to the edge of sanity? Even if that wound up being all it was, he hated to admit he could be falling right into his trap.
He passed the local package store, now with a neon sign but still as ramshackle as ever. Ethel’s Edibles was still a fixture at the end of Main Street, the best crab-and-cream-cheese omelets he’d ever eaten. A wine store had sprung up next to it, new and shiny, with frequent wine tastings. An antiques store across the street had a few people milling about inside. A mailman left a package on its doorstep and waved to a woman walking a little dog. The two stopped to talk, both thoroughly engaged in the conversation. It was similar to the small Wisconsin town he’d grown up in, and his heart ached for that innocent time: when his parents were alive, when a day spent at the lake was his idea of perfection.
Off Main Street stood the Killingworth Inn. He couldn’t recall it existing back in school, another sign of changed times and the town’s burgeoning appeal for tourists. He parked the car and booked a room for three nights.
He always worked best if he had a deadline.
* * *
WITH A MIDTERM exam looming, William plunged into a lecture on Faulkner’s classic novel Sanctuary. According to Faulkner, it was deliberately designed to make money and was the most horrific tale the author could imagine, full of the criminal underworld, voyeurism, rape, and murder. A fitting companion to Devil’s Hopyard, but William thought it had less of a brutal punch.
Kelsey, sitting up front, was the first to interrupt his lecture to make a point.
“I’m sorry,” she said, twirling a pen between her fingers, “but I was offended that Faulkner kept describing Temple Drake as a flirt, as if she deserved what Popeye did to her!”
Other students chimed in on the novel’s antifeminist tone, even Nathaniel, who’d recently grown an opinionated backbone.
“The point is,” William began, already prepared for a defense, “the way Temple acts with the boys in college is not the way she should act with criminals. And that begins her moral slide.”
“It just seems outdated,” Nathaniel said, after a lull from the other students. “I agree with Kelsey.”
Kelsey took the compliment in stride, but it was clear she enjoyed a loyal following.
“It’s not outdated,” William chided. “What happened to Temple could happen to anyone on a college campus, away from home, experimenting with new things. They fall in with the wrong type of influence.” He stared out the window. The leaves on the trees had crumbled and withered to the ground, sensing the onset of winter before anyone else. Branches were stark against a bone-white sky. A fine layer of snow stuck to the quad’s grounds. A final winter, a time of good-byes. Would he ever see the sun again? Did he deserve to?
“Professor…” Kelsey hissed, her arms crossed. “We lost you … again.”
“There was a student of mine,” he responded, rather abruptly. It caught Kelsey off guard and she jumped a little in her seat. “A long time ago. She went missing, terrible tragedy. This made the papers, since she was never found.”
The students all glanced at one another, not expecting this turn in the lecture.
“But maybe she met someone she shouldn’t have, someone even in her class, both unaware of the way that fate would tie them together endlessly. Maybe this someone never realized the role he played in her going missing? Or maybe he had and it was easier to just forget?—”
The Mentor Page 18
