When Houses Burn

by Laurèn Lee

I smiled politely, “Of course not. Here’s my card if you’d like to get in touch more professionally next time.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  I walked back to my car as calmly and reserved as possible. I never expected to speak with a detective, and if I had needed to, I never expected one to stalk me late at night. It was certainly a strange turn of events. I wish I had been able to get a better read on Detective Boucher, though. I couldn’t make out his body language or facial expressions. In fact, I felt somewhat embarrassed as reading people was part of my profession.

  I eventually found my car, stepped in and put my seat belt on for safety. As if anything in my life was safe right now. For a few minutes, I sat there, eyes closed, trying to recall my composure. Why did the detective speak to me in such a quiet, desolate place at night? Why didn’t he call me in for questioning to the police station? Why am I even in this predicament in the first place?

  Taking a deep breath, I turned the ignition and drove home, with one eye focused on my rearview mirror to see if any cars followed me on my way.

  48

  Present

  I entered my office with a little pep in my step early Monday morning. Lucas had the first appointment again. It never failed to surprise me how much I anticipated our therapy sessions even though we hardly worked on any therapy. Every chance I saw him, was another opportunity to breathe him in, soak up his brilliance. He was my sun, and I, his loyal subject.

  “Morning Delilah, how was your weekend?”

  “Shouldn’t I be the one to start asking the questions?” I asked amused. “It was average. Had a little scare with the police…” I trailed off.

  He raised an eyebrow, “How did that go?”

  “Strange. A detective followed me to the river to question me.”

  “Who was the detective?” Lucas questioned.

  “Detective Boucher. Older fellow.”

  “Ah, yes. I know Boucher quite well.”

  “You do?” I asked taken aback.

  “He was involved in my parents’ case,” he responded calmly.

  Oh, yeah. Lucas killed his parents. How easy it is to forget.

  “He’s known for his peculiar questioning tactics.”

  “That would make sense considering he stalked me while I was alone at nearly midnight.”

  “What were you doing by the river so late?”

  “A friend and I had dinner together, and after, I didn’t feel like going home. I took a walk to clear my head.”

  “Did you feel her?” he asked darkly.

  “Feel who?” I asked confusedly.

  “That’s where I dumped her. That’s where I tossed Helena.”

  “I’ve meant to ask you,” I started.

  “Go on.”

  “Why did you dump her in plain sight? Why didn’t you try harder to hide her?”

  “Missing person cases can go on for months, years even. Letting her be found was simply a strategic move on my part.”

  “But, won’t they search for her killer until they’ve found them?”

  “Maybe. Sometimes, knowing the body is at rest can hinder a search after so long. The police may need to allocate their resources to hot cases, instead of cold ones.”

  I pondered this for a few moments and wondered if Lucas was right. Would the police eventually give up?

  Trying to switch modes, I approached a new, but a similar subject with Lucas, “How did it feel bringing her body to the river? Did you feel any remorse? Were you sad?”

  “Remorse? She was a whore, Delilah. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

  “What about knowing that a child had perished, too?”

  “It’s better off not living,” he said.

  “That sounds cruel, Lucas. It didn’t even get a chance to try to survive.” I thought back to James and how devastated he was to find out his chance at being a father had been taken away from him, yet again. The baby was innocent but was caught up in a tragedy.

  “The world is cruel. I saved the child a lifetime of misery.”

  “Is that how you feel about your life? Do you feel it’s been full of misery?”

  “Hasn’t it, though?”

  “You tell me. All I know is you felt the need to kill your parents. You’ve never discussed why.”

  “I know I haven’t.” He looked out the window. I could tell he was building his walls back up. Whether it was to keep me out of his thoughts or to keep his thoughts inside, I didn’t know.

  “You can talk to me, Lucas. I’m here for you.”

  He stood abruptly and nearly knocked his chair backward. “Not everything needs to be discussed. You don’t need to understand every little thing about me, Delilah. I am not a puzzle for you to piece back together.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to help.”

  “Well stop. Stop trying to help me. Just stop trying at all.”

  Silence washed over us, leaving me feeling completely helpless. I wanted to know him, truly know him, and he was shutting me out. He wouldn’t open up to me no matter how hard I tried. Meanwhile, I laid open in front of him like a library book. I bared my soul to him, and he kept his locked up tightly in a safe.

  I looked down at my watch and noticed our session was nearly over, saved by the bell. Lucas continued to stand, with his hands leaning on the back of my patient chair, his head down, his eyes sullen.

  As I was about to ask what I could do for him, he pulled out a black velvet box from his pocket, “I got you something.”

  “You did? That was thoughtful.”

  “You need to promise me something, though.”

  “Anything,” I said too quickly.

  He walked over and opened the box before me. Inside stood two beautiful solitaire diamond earrings, glittering with purity.

  “I want you to wear them. Wear them every day and every night. Never take them out.”

  “Okay,” I answered, pulling them out of the box to put in my ear lobes. I wouldn’t have a problem wearing them. They were stunning.

  “Thank you, Lucas. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just say you’ll wear them like I asked.”

  “I will.”

  49

  Present

  Today was a day I’d been dreading. Today was Helena’s funeral. I didn’t want to go, I couldn’t bear to think of going, but James asked that I go with him. How strange was to attend the funeral of the woman who carried your husband’s child? Even worse, how strange would it be to attend the funeral of a woman who was murdered in my very own office?

  I didn’t want to attend the service, but James practically begged me. He wanted to say goodbye, but he couldn’t do it alone. Even after everything we’d been through, he still needed to lean on me during difficult times.

  I couldn’t say no.

  And so, I dug through my closet to find an appropriate dress for a funeral. I chose the one I’d worn to his mother’s funeral. It was the only dress I had suitable for such a drab occasion.

  I watched James get ready like a zombie unable to function. He almost used his toothpaste as hair gel and button up his shirt crookedly. I wanted to feel sorry for him, but at the same time, if he’d never slept with her, we probably wouldn’t be in this exact situation today. I wanted to blame him for all this. I wanted to blame him for everything. But, deep down I knew, none of this would have happened if I didn’t cross the line and become attached to Lucas. He was the root of all my problems, and for some reason, I also believed he was my solution.

  “Are you almost ready, James?”

  He grunted.

  “Maybe some coffee would help?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Bring her back,” he choked up.

  I rolled my eyes, hoping he didn’t notice. This may be worse than when his mother died. At least with her, he had a chance to say goodbye. At least his mother lived a full life, whereas, Helena and their child never had a chance
.

  I kept my earrings in as promised and I put on my most comfortable black stilettos. I was ready to get this all over with as soon as possible.

  James eventually made his way to my car, sluggishly as though he was on his way to his funeral. We didn’t speak in the car, but I hadn’t expected anything different. I was here merely as a means of support, not to help cheer him up.

  As I expected, the news had leaked of James’ and Helena’s affair. For this reason, he wanted us to be as inconspicuous as possible. We sat in the back of the church with our heads down. He sobbed silently as the priest spoke only the most profound and beautiful words. I put my hand on his leg, and he pushed it away.

  He insisted on driving to the burial, said he needed something to focus on along the way. I tried to argue, saying he wasn’t in the right state of mind, but he won in the end. He drove to the burial site, and we were last in line of the procession.

  Helena’s family was there, of course. They held onto each other for support as they mourned the loss of their daughter, sister, aunt, and friend. She was many things to these people, but to me, she was only my husband’s mistress. She meant nothing to me, but everything to James. I held his hand while the new love of his life was lowered into the ground. I held his hand while he said goodbye to his baby girl, again. I held his hand knowing nothing would ever be the same.

  Once the funeral services ended, we made our way back across the cemetery toward our car. We kept our heads low and stayed unnoticed. No one realized who we were and I was grateful.

  While we were walking, I pushed my hair behind my ears out of habit. In doing so, I revealed my diamond earrings. James did a double take and looked at me curiously.

  “Where did you get those?”

  “What?” I asked confused.

  “Those earrings?” his voice began to rise. Luckily, we were almost alone in the cemetery, and we’d let everyone else leave before us.

  I grabbed at my lobes, trying to hide them. James hadn’t noticed anything new about my appearance in years. I never expected him to notice my earrings.

  “I’ve had these,” I lied confidently.

  He grabbed my arms with a vice grip which caused me to howl and try to break away.

  “James, stop! You’re hurting me!”

  “I. Know. Those. Earrings!” he spat.

  “What are you talking about? Let go of me!” I struggled to break free, but he held on like the jaws of life.

  “Where did you get those!” he boomed, sending birds flying all across the vicinity.

  “They were a gift.”

  “Really? From where?”

  “James, what is the big deal? They’re just earrings!”

  I finally pulled away and rubbed my arms where his hands had clenched so tightly.

  “Those are Helena’s earrings,” he said with fury in his eyes.

  “What? No, these are mine. James, please. It’s been a long day, let’s go home.”

  In the next instant, I felt his hand tear across my face, sending tears racing down my cheeks.

  “I gave those exact earrings to Helena when she found out she was pregnant with our child. Those are her earrings, Delilah! Where did you get them?”

  I walked backward, trying to distance myself from James. If these were indeed Helena’s earrings, that meant Lucas must have taken them off her before he dumped her body. That meant he gave them to me on purpose. Lucas did this. Lucas put me in this situation. Lucas knew James would see me wearing them. It was all Lucas.

  Without thinking, I ripped off my heels, grabbed my car keys and sprinted away from James. He was right behind me, but I was faster. I dove into my car and drove away, watching James chase me down the cemetery’s lane.

  50

  Present

  Where could I go? Who could I call for help? What if James called the police? How would I explain having a dead woman’s earrings? So many questions and I had no answers. Lucas set me up, but why? Although, I supposed I deserved it. When you go to bed with a murderer, you put your life in the hands of someone who has no respect for life at all.

  I drove furiously, without a destination in mind. I had no intentions of going anywhere particular, but within a half hour, I found myself at the very last place I should’ve gone; Lucas’ house.

  Even though I should have gone someplace else, I knew James nor the police would ever find me here if they came looking. It was the safest, most destructive house I could’ve come to in the area.

  I banged on the door like a madwoman, which I was at this exact moment. Lucas came to the door just as I was about to call him to let me in.

  “Hello, Delilah,” he greeted me curiously. “What brings you here to my humble abode?”

  I pushed past him and locked the door behind us. I also peeked out the window to see if anyone had followed me. I was safe, for now.

  “James knows.”

  “James knows what?” he asked delightfully.

  “He knows I had something to do with Helena’s murder!” I shouted.

  “How would he ever find out such a thing?” He was playing with me, and I kept participating.

  “He noticed my earrings. You know, the ones you just gave me as a gift. The same earrings you stole from a dead woman before dumping her into the river?” My yelps echoed around the house, and my ostentatious stomping caused the Swarovski crystal chandelier to sway in the foyer.

  Lucas didn’t say a word but continued to revel in my tantrum, which made me all the more insane.

  “Why did you do this to me? What am I going to do now? What if he calls the police?”

  “There, there, Delilah. Everything will be okay.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because it’s true. James won’t call the police on you.”

  “How do you know for sure?”

  “Because, dear. You’re all that he has left.”

  “You set me up on purpose. I want to know why.”

  “I wanted to see what would happen, I guess.”

  His words stung me to my very core. All this, just for his entertainment and pleasure.

  “What if you’re wrong? What if James called the police and they’re already out looking for me?”

  “Then, I guess you better stay here. It wouldn’t hurt to turn off your phone, too. You know, in case the police try tracking you via GPS.”

  Without another word, I obeyed and did as Lucas instructed. I checked my phone and saw I had no missed calls or text messages from James. I wasn’t sure what was worse, James trying to contact me or ignoring me altogether. I turned off my phone and tossed it on the white leather couch in the living room. I had officially gone off the grid.

  Now what?

  “Would you like a glass of wine, Delilah?”

  “I’ll need a whole bottle at this point,” I muttered.

  “Coming right up!”

  Lucas acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He seemed utterly delighted at my tragedy. Maybe my tragedy was his comedy. The ancient Greeks would be proud.

  While I waited for him to return from the kitchen, I further explored his ostentatious living room.

  I noticed a rare original hanging on one of the walls, opposite the front window; it was a John William Waterhouse’s painting, Lamia. It shows a beautiful female demon seducing a knight to consume at a later time.

  “A bottle of white for the lady,” Lucas announced.

  “Thanks.”

  Lucas and I sat in his living room, sipping from an incredibly expensive bottle of wine and not speaking a single word to each other. I wondered what James was doing this very instant. Was he looking for me? Did he think I truly had something to do with the murder of Helena and his unborn daughter? If he assumed as much, he’d be right. He’d never forgive me, even if he decided not to turn me in. I would lose everything. Everything I’ve worked for would be gone in an instant. My practice, my friends, my family, they’d all disappear. If James didn’t turn me in, I
’m sure he’d use my guilt to control me for the rest of our lives. I wouldn’t win in either situation. So, what could I do? Could I run? That would indeed prove my guilt, but I wouldn’t have to face the consequences of my actions. It would be cowardly, but I’d be free. I could blame everything on Lucas, but who knew if there would be any evidence linking him to the crime? He’d have no apparent motive, and I’m sure he’d have an alibi, too. He wasn’t just your average killer. He was a seasoned vet.

  “What are you thinking about?” Lucas asked, finally breaking the silence.

  “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.”

  “James hasn’t called the police,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  “Lucas, stop saying that. You don’t know for sure if he has or hasn’t.”

  “I do, though. I have a friend in the department. He would’ve told me.”

  “Why would he tell you? It’s not like he would know you know me?”

  Lucas chuckled. There was so much more I didn’t know about this man sitting across from me. So much more.

  “So, you have a dirty cop on your side?”

  “He’s a very hygienic man. I wouldn’t call him dirty,” he smirked.

  “You’re sure he would call you?”

  “Oh, yes. He would call.”

  “Do I know who this cop is?” I asked.

  “Yeah, you’ve met him.”

  I thought back to any cops I’d had contact with recently, and it hit me; Detective Boucher.

  “You sent him to speak with me, didn’t you?”

  “You caught me!” he snickered, putting his hands up in the air.

  “Why, Lucas? Another game?”

  “He wanted to meet you, and so I told him where you’d be.”

  “Well, that’s not creepy at all,” I noticed, finishing my glass of wine and pouring another.

  “Is that how you were able to get off? Did he tamper with the evidence in your trial?”

  “You are intelligent, Doctor.”

  “So, he made it seem as though someone else killed your parents, essentially nixing your original confession?”