by Nadirah Foxx
When Leo and I dated as teenagers, he mentioned how he loved Ferris wheels. Something about being able to sit up high and look down on people. A hint at a superiority complex? If that was still a fascination of his, the best place to do so was at the Santa Monica pier.
One would think that after what happened at the cabin I would have kept my distance from Leo. Deep down, I was scared to death of seeing him again. But with Matt’s death I realized that justice wouldn’t be served—not for the runaway found butchered on Belle Isle, not for April, and not for Matt—until I faced my fear.
I pulled into a parking space near the busy pier and checked my appearance in the rearview mirror—dark curly wig and sunglasses. There was one more thing needed. I reached into the backseat, grabbed a camera, and looped the strap around my neck. If I encountered Leo, hopefully he wouldn’t see beyond my tourist disguise.
∞∞∞
An hour passed, and I still hadn’t seen anyone who remotely looked like Leo. I was about to give up when a guy with blond hair caught my eye. He was hanging out near the Ferris wheel, chatting up every single woman who came up to the ride. Maybe he was the ticket taker.
Instead of getting closer, I stepped into the shadows and snapped photos. I made sure to take plenty of the curious man.
Later, in my hotel room, I studied the photos I uploaded to my laptop. The blond man had Leo’s general structure, but his eyes were bright blue. His hair was slightly longer than the last time I’d seen Leo. Plus, the guy was tanned and a little muscular. Claiming that he could be Leo was stretching reality, but… I’d been wrong before.
∞∞∞
I returned to the pier the following day, hoping to find the guy. Sure enough, he was at the Ferris wheel. I played up the tourist role, taking pictures of everything and everyone on the pier.
Around noon, I stopped and grabbed a bite to eat. While watching people walk by on the boardwalk, the man—wearing cut-offs and a sleeveless T-shirt—came into view.
He flashed a charming smile. “Hey, gorgeous!”
Mmm…slight Aussie accent.
Accents can be faked.
“Hello,” I said but didn’t bother making eye contact.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
“It’s a free country.”
He plopped down beside me and extended his hand. “Name’s Patrick. And you are?”
“Not interested.”
“Really? You’ve been taking my picture for two days. I’d say you’re very interested.”
I finally looked at him—really looked at him. There was no mistaking the strong jawline and bow-shaped mouth with full lips like bees stung them—or he’d been thoroughly kissed. Butterflies took off in my gut, and I tripped on my words. “I-I’m a photographer. It’s my job to take pics.”
“Magazine or newspaper?”
“Actually, internet. I work for a blog. Well, I should say, I want to work for one. I’m new in town and trying to find a job.”
Patrick cocked his head to one side. “Blogging can be a tough field to break into.”
“Tell me about it. I suspect you’re not from here either.”
“How did you know?”
I stared at him and recalled the places Leo claimed to have traveled to. “Let me guess. Sydney? No, Melbourne.”
He laughed as he nodded. “Melbourne. Have you been?”
“Can’t say that I have. Always wanted to visit though.”
“I’d love to talk to you more, but I have to get back to work. Can I call you?”
Gripping my camera tightly, I pushed to my feet before he rose. “I’m sure we’ll meet again. I enjoy hanging out on the pier.”
Patrick looked dumbfounded for a moment. “Okay, okay. You American women. So independent. Talk to you again.”
“Yup.”
I stared behind him. After I was sure he was gone, I let go of the camera, and my hand shook like a leaf in the wind. If that man wasn’t Leo, then he had a fucking double.
∞∞∞
I had to make sure that Patrick wasn’t who he claimed to be. It required another disguise—a red short wig, another set of dark glasses, a pair of wide-legged slacks, a Gothic-styled T-shirt, and a pair of platform sandals. The outfit wasn’t anything like I’d ever worn. I added a stick of gum to complete the illusion.
Nightfall was imminent when I returned to the pier. Patrick was still on duty. I went straight up to him and in my best Jersey accent asked for a ticket.
He eyed me for a moment before completing my request. I rode the Ferris wheel twice before leaving the area. I quickly entered a women’s restroom, ditched the outfit, and exited wearing a beanie, denim shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops. I looked no different from any other person on the boardwalk.
Patrick was walking away from the Ferris wheel. I guessed his shift was over. He was on foot, so I did the same, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Patrick left the pier, and ten minutes later entered a 24 Hour Fitness off Second Street. I returned to my car and got back in time to see him boarding a blue bus.
He rode for a few miles down Santa Monica Boulevard before exiting at 14th Street. Instead of catching another bus, he walked over to Wilshire Boulevard and ducked into a Rite-Aid. I pulled onto a side street and parked behind the building. I snatched off the beanie, slipped on a sweatshirt, and donned the black wig again. I exchanged the flip-flops for black Converse and put on a pair of wire-rimmed glasses with rose-colored lenses.
Moving quickly, I entered the store and headed toward the front. I saw Patrick at a register. I cut down an aisle and timed it so that we would collide.
“Oh, I am so sorry. I’m so clumsy.”
“No problem.” He bent down to pick up the contents of his ripped bag—a box of platinum blonde hair coloring, junk food, and an energy drink.
“Let me help,” I offered.
Patrick stood, and his eyes narrowed. “You’re the photographer.”
I smiled. “And you’re the guy from the pier. What a coincidence?”
“Indeed.”
“Don’t let me keep you. I just needed to pick up some necessities. Good seeing you again.”
“Let me get your number or at least your name.”
“I don’t know you well enough for either,” I said and slipped down another aisle.
He confirmed my suspicion. It was time to make good on my promise to Dad. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but it would happen. I packed away my disguises. After all, it was time for Patrick to meet the real me.
Epilogue
Set Free
Rachel
Seven months later…
I still thought about Matt and the circumstances of his death. The memories of the trial haunted me daily. I couldn’t forget the endless witnesses testifying against him. If I hadn’t known Matt, I would have believed that he was a man easily swayed by his emotions—a man who lacked self-control.
For a fleeting moment, I sided with the jurors. They didn’t believe Matt simply lost his cool. They found it unfathomable that rejection could make a man strike out. They failed to believe that the mere mention of Leo’s name could unleash a monster.
As time passed, I considered the fucked-up existence the two brothers shared. Deep-seated jealousy and hatred governed their every move. Matt tried too hard to be the loving little brother. Matt made excuses for Leo until he thought April might love him.
And Leo?
He didn’t like the idea that April was in love with Matt. Leo believed that it was truth despite the Pattersons denial. They claimed April pitied the boys but didn’t love them—not romantically. They purported that Matt’s angry outbursts scared her. The Pattersons surmised that Leo’s manipulative ways terrified her too.
Bullshit!
Matt had issues, but I’d never believe that he forced himself on April. The woman might have wanted peace in her life, but I think she loved him in the only way she could.
Loving either brother was complicated. It was
something I understood, more than I wanted to admit. At different times in my life, I cared for both men. I was ill-equipped to judge someone for their feelings.
Sitting through Matt’s trial, I realized that we couldn’t have had a future. Unlike April, I wouldn’t continue being his punching bag. I’d been in that type of relationship and swore I wouldn’t do it again.
Yeah, right.
Love blinded me for a moment. Love let me stick by Matt’s side, witnessing the new bruises on his face each day he appeared in court. But it wasn’t the gut-wrenching, I’ll-die-for-you type of love. It was pity.
I felt bad for the man who should have been kept in isolation but wasn’t thanks to a warden and guards who didn’t follow the rules. The judge eventually stepped in and mandated it, but it was too late. They had broken Matt’s spirit. Maybe if they’d left him in general population, Matt wouldn’t have had to listen to the verdict. He wouldn’t have heard the judge slap a fine on top of it.
But I couldn’t spend my life mourning for Matt, so I made some permanent changes. I cut back at the ad agency to part time. Decreasing my hours allowed me to finally write that book I’d been talking about. The experts claimed you should write what you knew, so I penned a romantic suspense story. Writing about a foolish young woman in jeopardy was kind of cathartic.
When Dad’s condition continued to deteriorate, I knew I couldn’t leave him again. Somehow I talked him into moving. His only request was to live on a large parcel of land where he could have horses. I doubted if we’d have animals, but I was on the lookout for a bigger place.
Thanks to my ordeal with Leo and Matt, I stopped going out at night. Hanging at bars with Crystal became a thing of the past. I simply didn’t trust my judgment anymore. Scott suggested I see someone about my issue. The shrink said that dealing with two men in dire need of mental services made me gun shy. She understood my predicament and claimed she’d help me get through it.
Dad didn’t see it as a major problem. He wanted to hook me up with someone from the church while Richard introduced me to his employees. Dad’s best friend said the men were fully vetted—not a psycho in the bunch.
But I needed no one’s help in meeting a man. I’d met someone all on my own.
My trip to Southern California turned into a month because of Patrick. I took the time and really got to know the man who wore his hair up in one of those sexy man buns. He was totally into fitness and being the best person he could be. Honestly, he had the potential of being the sweetest person I’d ever met.
If only…
We parted ways at the end of that month, but we kept in touch. A few days ago he came to Michigan. Patrick, who wanted to meet Dad, would arrive any minute.
The doorbell rang, and I rushed into the hall, but Dad cut me off.
“It never looks good if you’re too eager for a man,” he said as he walked to the door.
A second later, my father and Patrick exchanged words. Dad finally nodded and stepped to the side.
Patrick flashed that prize-winning smile of his, and I almost melted. Almost.
I’d planned the perfect evening for him—sightseeing in downtown followed by dinner at a Brazilian steakhouse. Patrick said he’d lived in Brazil for a few years. It was a night for possibilities.
∞∞∞
The weather was nice for early May, so we went for a walk down by the waterfront. We stopped at the fence overlooking the river. I gripped the railing and let the breeze blow through my locks.
“It’s beautiful down here. Kind of unexpected,” Patrick said in a slightly accented voice. “I’m surprised you don’t live down here.”
“Why would I?” Butterflies took off in my stomach. “I work from home, only needing to come downtown once a month.”
He nodded.
I side-glanced at him. “Where’s the accent from? It’s hard to place.”
“Just a blend of all the places I’ve been,” Patrick said casually.
“Oh?” I faced him. “You said you lived in Brazil for a while. Any place else?”
“I’ve spent time in Europe and Japan.”
My heart beat kicked up a notch.
People walked steadily by. Someone dressed in all black stopped a few inches away from us. He kept his back turned. Probably just someone enjoying the pleasant spring night.
When I glanced up at Patrick, he was staring off into the distance.
I forced a smile. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“No thoughts in particular. Just contemplating life.”
My pulse increased with his words. I’d lost my doubts months ago, but I welcomed the reassurance. I asked the question that had been bugging me, “Why the change in your appearance?”
He chuckled. “I’ve always thought you were too smart, Rachel.”
Ignoring his attempt at charm, I asked, “Have you been spying on me?”
“Nonsense. Spying would imply that I’m the enemy.” He turned toward me. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you. Call it concern.”
“I’d rather call it what is—creepy.” I paused for a moment, letting my gaze drift over to the stranger still lingering nearby. “Why come back at all? Didn’t you get away with murder?”
“Must you focus on the negative?” Patrick leaned over the railing. “Besides, you’re understating the situation.” He looked out over the water. “You know that wasn’t my first trip to California.”
“No?”
“Being stupid isn’t your thing.” He cleared his throat. “You know that I lived out there for years. It was a safe place after my first victims. Nobody thought to look for me on the West Coast.”
I did a mental survey of the contents of my purse before taking a deep breath. “Why was that? Didn’t you think I might have missed you?”
He laughed loudly, causing a few bystanders to glance over before moving on. “Rachel, you thought of me for what? A week? Maybe a month? You wasted no time forgetting about me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I lied. It was a skill I was getting proficient with. “I never forgot you.”
“Then why didn’t you recognize me at the bar that night?”
I looked up at him. “You like to change your appearance. You cut your hair and grew a beard. Not exactly the boy I knew.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Sorry, but switching things up is fun. Besides, nobody can identify me correctly.”
“How do you do it?” My gaze swept over him. “Other than the obvious?”
“Lifts for height. Fat suits. Wigs. Colored contacts.” He smiled as if he was proud of his accomplishments. “All things accessible to wannabe actors. It’s why California is a great place to live.”
Cautiously, I reached out and touched his bicep. “Is this real?”
“Yeah. While you were here mourning my brother, I was working out. Getting myself ready for you.”
I bobbed my head a few times. There was something else nagging me. “Did Matt really kill April?”
“Yeah. According to him, it was an accident, but my brother was prone to fits of rage. My guess is that she rejected him, and he flew off the handle.”
Same story Matt confessed to on the witness stand.
“Another question. Did you drug me that night?”
“The night we went to the pizza parlor?” Patrick closed his eyes as if he was reliving the memory. “Yeah. You should stop leaving your drinks unattended when you go out. Either take them with you or finish them.” His eyes popped open. “But I wasn’t trying to have sex with you. Not that night. It was all a test—just to see if I could drug you.”
“Because it worked with all your other victims?”
A shadow crossed his handsome face. “You were never a victim. Just the girl who got away.”
His back was to the stranger, so he didn’t see the man turn toward us and inch closer. Patrick dipped his chin, but I wasn’t finished. I wanted all the answers.
“So that we’re on the same page, why did you k
ill those women?”
His eyes narrowed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were recording me. I’ll play along because you’re mine now. You won’t be revealing anything to anyone. I finally won. Everything I always wanted… Do you know that I’ve moved into an apartment in town? A much nicer loft than Matt’s.”
Disgust moved through my gut, but I pushed it aside and steeled my spine. I would finish that line of questions even if it was the last thing I ever did.
“The question, Patrick.”
“Fine.” He paused for a long moment. “Because I could. Because I had a mother who tossed me aside. She didn’t even give me a fucking chance, but she gave Matt one.”
He honestly believed the lie.
“That doesn’t explain—”
“Let me finish,” he snapped. “You don’t know what it’s like to be rejected over and over again. To give your heart to someone only to hear ‘not interested.’ After a while, it bugs the hell out of a man. That was the problem with Suzanne.”
She was someone Leo had mentioned before.
“I did everything for her. Just like I did with you. Just like I did with all of them. Women don’t appreciate a good man.”
“Not true. It all depends on the man.”
He didn’t acknowledge my words. Instead, he closed his eyes again and continued, “Every single one dumped me, but I showed them. You don’t kick Leon Allen Kilpatrick to the curb. I had to teach them all a lesson.”
While he continued babbling on about his various crimes, I reached into my shoulder bag. It was dangerous walking around without the safety on the gun, but I clung to my suspicions. I had to be prepared.
For Matt.
For me.
Leon didn’t stop talking until he heard the click of my gun. His eyes flew open and bulged. I swore I could see the brown behind his contacts.
Scott Dixon, standing behind Leon, shook his head—warning me not to do anything stupid.
Too late for that.
“Rachel,” Leon said. “Put the gun away. You don’t want to do it. Think about what will happen. Orange isn’t a good color on you.”
“It wasn’t a good color on your brother either.” I steadied the Glock with my free hand.
