by Shayne Ford
Waves of heat barrel through me.
“Video clips?”
She turns around.
“Was he sexting you?”
“Sexting? Um, no... Not really.”
She quirks an eyebrow.
“I mean we haven’t had the opportunity to explore that side of our relationship.”
Blood rushes to my face.
“Why is that important?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer.
Instead, she retrieves a business card from her pocket and leaves it on the table.
“If you remember anything else related to Mr. Rockford and his late wife, anything that you found odd or meant something to you, this is where you can reach us. ”
I look at her bewildered.
“I thought you had a suspect and he’s already in custody,” I blurt, doing myself a disservice.
She studies me for a moment before she speaks again.
“The premature death of Miss Monroe is more than unfortunate happenstance. It has multiple ramifications, and some of them are not surprisingly financial, her husband being the beneficiary of her estate.”
I stare at her, my mouth agape.
Her eyes linger on my face for another moment before she tips her head in a short goodbye and saunters to the door, followed by her partner.
The door closes behind them.
For a few long moments, I’m still pinned in the middle of the room, my mouth open. My mind swirling.
Someone else knocks on the door, and my heart flips.
What is wrong with these people?
I peer through the peephole, expecting to see the detectives again before I swing the door open.
A man dressed in a gray suit paired with a blue tie and a sleek briefcase gives me a short nod.
“Arnold Marlow,” he says, slipping me a business card into my hand. “From Marlow&Marlow.”
My eyebrows lift as I shoot him a questioning look.
“The law firm,” he says, gauging my reaction.
“Oh, yes...” I say, recollecting that I’ve seen the ads on TV.
“Do you have a moment?”
“Yeah, sure...” I say, taking a step back.
He enters my apartment but doesn’t move away from the door.
“How may I help you?”
A small smile curves his lips.
“I’m here to help you.”
My eyebrows lift in surprise.
“Help me?” I mutter incredulously.
“Two detectives just paid you a visit,” he says, unfazed.
“Yes, they did. Is there a problem?” I ask as I register a shred of angst in his voice.
“From now on, you will only answer questions, whether they come from the police or media if I’m in the room with you.”
“Who are you again?” I ask, flipping the card, hoping for additional information.
“I’m your lawyer.”
“I don’t understand,” I mutter.
“Two detectives just interrogated you, Miss Sandoval.”
“Waters.”
He nods.
“Miss Waters… Chances are they’ll be back, digging for more information. You shouldn’t engage in a conversation with them without consulting with me.”
I look at him, confused.
“I’m sorry... There’s no way I can afford you.”
He smiles again.
“You don’t need to. I’m representing you pro bono.”
I search his eyes.
“Did he send you?”
A faint smile flits through his eyes.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
“That’s a yes.”
“You are free to draw your own conclusions, Miss.”
With that, he tips his chin down and gives me a soft goodbye as he smoothly pulls away.
11
TESS
The house across the street remains cloaked in darkness and silence for the rest of the day.
Sunday evening, I lock the door, grab my small suitcase, ride the elevator down and climb the stairs to the street. A cab waits for me in front of the building.
I arrive at Anne’s place a few minutes before eight.
We spent most of the evening watching the news like everybody else until we both decide that we had enough of the debate and speculations and turn off the TV.
“I really don’t understand... Why is that recording so important after all?” she asks as we sit around the kitchen table and eat dinner.
“I have no idea,” I mutter.
“Perhaps, the painter made everything up. It’s strange that they couldn’t find it.”
“Yes, it is,” I say, sunk in my thoughts.
With that, we move on to other topics, and soon after, I breathe out a sigh of relief.
The week following the events is different than what I predicted.
I no longer watch the news, and although I expect to see the lawyer again, or the detectives or even the paparazzi to show up at Anne’s door, none of that happens.
The silence is worse than the clamor, making my anxiety surge.
Late in the week, I move back into my apartment. It’s temporary, of course, until my old house gets vacated.
Strangely enough, the divorce decree gets signed on Wednesday, making the divorce final. All things seem to come to an end in a choreographed, twisted move orchestrated by the universe.
I keep working long hours, trying to keep my mind occupied, but Friday it all becomes impossible.
Jacqueline Monroe’s funeral is scheduled for this afternoon. As expected, the event makes the headlines on TV and trends on the social media.
I turn off the TV and power off my phone, but no matter what I do, I can’t keep my focus on my work.
Around three o’clock, the street gets animated.
Cars pull in and out while cops direct the traffic.
I throw a pair of black trousers and a top on me, pick up my phone and my purse and walk out of the apartment. I use the back exit to stride out of the building and head straight to the park, following a narrow alley to get to the other side.
Once I set foot on the street hosting my old residence, it starts to rain, so I call a taxi.
The car arrives minutes later.
I slip onto the back bench, running my hand through my hair, brushing off the beads of rain.
“Where to, Miss?”
I give the man the address of the cemetery before the car glides away.
By the time we get there, the convoy arrives.
I wait in the car for almost an hour, paying for the extra time, hoping that the rain stops, but more importantly that the ceremony draws to an end and everyone pulls away so that I can step out.
It’s already getting dark and drizzling when I walk out of the car.
A scent of wet pavement enters my nostrils the moment I take the first steps onto the alley.
I look around. Beads of water glimmer in the grass while tall trees shake leaves unsettled by the evening breeze.
I stop and listen.
Silence reigns over the cemetery interrupted only by a few words carried away by the wind, coming from the group of people still gathered around the grave.
I take a few steps closer and hide behind a tree as men and women pay their last respects and quietly walk away.
It’s late by the time the space clears of people, and I gather enough courage to walk from behind the tree. My blouse is soaked from rain, my hair wet and tangled.
Shivering, I get closer.
Flowers, candles and the faint glow of a nearby lamppost fill my view.
Lingering daylight makes everything look gray except for the white flowers covering the ground.
I stop a few steps away from the grave my gaze trailing down. Tears flush my eyes, the guilt simmering in me stealing my air.
More rain falls in my hair as tears roll down my face.
My mind starts spinning.
Right there in the freshly dug
grave lies a woman who felt nothing for me, and yet here I am crying for her and grieving for me. For having my fate tangled with hers, and for messing with her destiny, breaking her timeline, and bringing her life to an abrupt end.
Who knew that the slightest tipping of an invisible scale called life sets things in motion that you couldn’t even comprehend.
Who knew that tearing apart the meshwork of life with a stupid decision, pulls down an intricate web, unraveling the lives of so many people.
I run a hand over my cheeks, wiping my tears away.
A year ago, she was nothing to me. We could’ve crossed paths and walked past each other without having the slightest clue that one day, we would be the other woman in our men’s lives. That one day the man she shared her life with would tip the scale as well, deciding that he wants to fuck with my timeline. Deciding that I am primed for the taking. A lonely, vulnerable woman who craved love more than anything else. Who was so blind that she couldn’t even put her desires in words.
A year ago, the man who was then this woman’s husband, spotted an opportunity. He got a glimpse of the open door that let him walk straight into my heart. He figured that the only thing he needed to do was to feed me what I longed for the most. It must’ve been really easy for him to give me those lies. My heart was so hungry for them I couldn’t get enough of them. And while he brought me back to life and made me feel as if I was breathing for the first time, he also spotted another opportunity.
He knew he could make me his.
To love.
Use.
And destroy.
He had no qualms about going on with his plan.
Because I was so tempting for him. So easy. And the game was so enthralling. So fascinating.
With a few masterly moves, he shifted more than a timeline in the process. He switched the life tracks for Allan and me. Stephan. And then he brought his wife’s timeline to an end.
He played God and he succeeded.
And when he was done with everything, he crushed me without remorse.
A gust of wind sweeps my back, licking the wet fabric of my blouse. Another shiver goes through me.
Sniffing, and running my fingers beneath my eyes to wipe away more tears, I spin around to leave.
“Tess?”
I stop. And freeze.
His voice is the last thing that I thought I’d hear.
My eyes start roving, looking for him.
He steps out of a shadow and takes a few steps in my direction. His dark hair is combed back, a couple of bangs brushing his brow. His suit falls down his frame smoothly, making him look as elegant as ever. The starched collar of his white dress shirt lines his neck, almost touching his jawline. The neckline is open giving me a glimpse of his neck and his collarbones. Something about that patch of skin makes my body warm. It also makes me feel bad and even more torn.
Smoothly, he closes the space between us and stops in front of me. His eyes shift colors, borrowing from his surroundings, turning darker, greener, the candlelight glimmering in them.
“What are you doing here?” he asks softly, his eyes connecting with mine.
The sound of his voice enters my ears, making my pulse spike, and my fingers tremble.
I clutch my purse, my gaze spending one more second on his face before I step away from him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come,” I say with an abrasive voice.
He pivots and grabs my arm, forcing me to halt.
“That’s not why I asked you,” he says, locking my eyes again.
“I need to go,” I say with a quiet but firm voice. “I didn’t come here to see you.”
Sadness flashes through his gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I huff. My eyes widening in surprise.
I want to laugh.
“Sorry??”
His eyes stay on me as I sneer.
“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, Sebastien,” I retort, yanking my arm out of his lock. “I was nothing to you, so stop pretending that you care,” I say, putting as much poison as I can in my words.“You finally got what you always wanted.”
“And what exactly is that?”
I see the dare in his eyes. I hear it in his voice as well.
The nerve he has.
I pull closer to him, my lips trembling with fury.
“You’re a free man at last. Isn’t that what it was all about? You got your money and your freedom. You got her money too.”
Ice glimmers in his gaze.
I finger his chest.
“You used me in the most despicable way. You made me do something that you always wanted to do yourself. You are a callous, cruel man. She warned me, you know. She told me that something bad was bound to happen, but I never thought it would be her death. You have no heart, Sebastien. Sometimes I wonder if you have a shred of soul. Never in my life, I thought that I’d meet someone like you.”
He slowly shakes his head.
“I told you once that nothing is what it seems, Tess.”
I look at him, surprised.
A sad chuckle falls from my lips.
“Are you telling me this? How dare you to say this to me?” I bark, poking at his chest again. “You are not what you seem, Sebastien. Let’s start there. I fell for every trick you pulled on me. You had me lulled, fooled, and made me do whatever you wanted me to do. You used your charm, words, and sex... Yes. You used sex to fuck with my head. To make me fall for you. To make me believe that I meant something to you. And, oh. Didn’t I? You must’ve looked long and hard to find someone so stupid and gullible like me. Someone who was eager to do whatever it took to be with you. And then when everything was said and done, you got rid of me in the most humiliating way. You needed witnesses, didn’t you? With one swipe you invalidated the single, most incriminatory motive, besides money of course. You wanted to be above any suspicion. And now you are. You had everything planned, Sebastien, like the most despicable criminal, only worse. Because your mind is brilliant, and unlike an ordinary thug, you didn’t leave anything to happenstance. There were no loose ends with you. Everything was perfect. The timing, my meltdown, the shackling of my heart. You knew that I’d do anything for you. You knew that I’d go through fire for you. You knew all that because you took me there. Nothing mattered to me more than you. You made me your slave, and then you disposed of me as if I was one. You couldn’t possibly understand what it would do to me. The same way you couldn’t comprehend how much guilt you’d put in me taking her out with my help. ”
“I didn’t do anything, Tess.”
“No, you didn’t. Because I did.” I shout, hitting his chest with my fists, searing him with my glare.
The echo of my voice floats over the cemetery.
His eyes glint for a moment, his jaw clenching as he grabs me by the shoulder and drags me behind a big old tree.
“I told you that I didn’t do anything,” he growls as my back hits the tree, and the trunk scrapes my blouse.
“She’s in that fucking grave for fuck’s sake,” I bark, my voice threading through the evening air again.
His hand goes over my mouth, his frame crushing me.
His eyes burn me to a pile of ashes from the inside out.
“That wasn’t my plan,” he rumbles, his hot breath fanning over my face.
I cuff his wrist and pull his hand away from my mouth. Without fighting me, he slides his fingers to my neck.
Brazenly, I hold his gaze, searching his eyes for a moment not that I need to.
I know him like the back of my hand.
“So you admit there was a plan.”
He stays quiet for a moment, his hand falling off my neck.
“Yes. There was a plan. But it was different,” he says, taking a step back and unbuttoning his suit jacket, a hand going through his hair.
“Do you expect me to believe you?” I ask.
He casually slides his hand into his pocket.
“You would if y
ou’d know the whole story.”
My teeth grind with frustration.
“The whole story? What makes you think that I care about the whole story?”
He studies me for a moment long enough to make my fury flare again.
I shift my gaze down and flick my hand while tucking the bottom of my blouse inside my pants.
“You know what... It really doesn’t matter. It’s too late for that,” I mutter, slinging the strap of my purse over my shoulder.
Without another word, I push off the tree and pull away from him.
“Why did you do it?” he shouts behind me.
His voice slices through me, his words bringing me to an abrupt stop, a sharp pain barreling through me.
I turn around, shocked that he dared to ask me that. I quickly close the space between us. Inches away from him, I tangle my gaze with his, my body tense like a spring.
“Because I wanted him to know the truth. Isn’t that what your stupid game was all about? Wasn’t the truth what made you come into my life and wreck so much havoc? You were so keen to open my eyes. So eager to shed light on my crappy life, and so skilled in showing me something different, teaching me that dreams come true. And then, when you had enough of seeing me stupidly happy, floating on a cloud, you pulled the rug from under my feet and threw a bucket of ice at me, showing me the other side of the truth. It was nothing but a fucking game. A game you won. A game you owned. I should’ve known right from the get-go that it was nothing but a sham, and not because you didn’t make it look real. No, no. You did. I could’ve bet my life on it, it looked so real. But only because I didn’t know your real reasons. You kept the most important stuff close to your vest. Your secrets were much more than I imagined. Your secrets were the essence of you. You never looked out for anyone but yourself. You never cared about me. And unlike me, you knew the ending, so it was easy for you to tweak the hell out of it until it all looked smooth to you. You wanted me to fulfill my role. And I did. So, yeah... I bet you knew that I would do it. One way or another. Perhaps you couldn’t foresee how it would go down, but you knew. That’s why you drove me crazy. And made me insanely jealous. That’s why you played this hot and cold game, making sure that at the right moment I would snap. It all happened… Just the way you envisioned it. Producing the perfect results for you. I bet you also knew that I’d feel sorry for him. Stephan. Because I was in his shoes. I knew he loved her. The same way I loved you. I knew she doesn’t love him, the same way I know now that you never loved me. And yes... There was a side of me that was ready to do whatever it took to take you back from her clutches. It’s not something that I’m proud of. It’s something that I am. I wanted you for me, Sebastien. Yes, I did. But I never wanted her dead. I never thought that my interference would set so many things in motion and have such a dramatic effect on the lives of so many people. It was a stupid, stupid mistake. I never thought that a simple image would trigger him, making him fatal to her.”
