He pushes the knife further into my throat, causing another tiny stream of blood to roll down my neck. “Make no mistake. I will kill you, and it won’t be as gentle as the way your husband died.”
Immediately, I’m reminded of the car crash but, of course, he’s referring to the poison. Phillip was never meant to get into his car, and yet, he did it anyway.
“This is just a warning, but I will come back for you if you try anything. You understand?” he says with a low voice that causes goosebumps to scatter across my skin.
I nod quickly. “Yes.” The moment the word spills from my mouth, I already know it’s a lie … and I think he knows, too.
He leans closer, breathing hot air onto my skin, which tingles in an oh so wrong way. “Good girl. See you around, Princess.”
And then the knife suddenly disappears along with him.
Holding my neck to prevent more blood from spilling, I turn around in my seat, but by that time, the door has already slammed shut. With his umbrella above his head, he strolls to his own car not far from mine. As he opens the door and sits down, he keeps his eyes focused on my car. Our eyes connect, and for a moment, I’m awestruck. He didn’t kill me. Instead, he walked away with only a threat … One I don’t believe, but a threat nonetheless.
As he drives backward, I can clearly see his license plate. It surprises me that he didn’t rip it off prior to our meeting. He probably wants me to see it and remember it, forcing me to choose. Act on it, or leave it alone and forget about it all.
He’s tempting me … persuading me to act. Well, I will take on this dare. May the best liar win.
Chapter Eight
Vanessa
The next day
For days, I feel followed. Wherever I go, someone’s always behind me. Whether it’s a car, a person stalking closely, or suspicious coincidences, everything makes me feel nervous. It’s as if I’m losing my mind. Half of it probably is my imagination and the other part … well, let’s just say that a car with a very peculiar license plate has been showing up on my street every so often. It’s like he’s spying on me, waiting for me to take the bait, but I know I won’t catch him. Not before he catches me.
The only thing I can do is go after him in a way he least expects it. Visit him in a place he wouldn’t think I’d go. He probably thinks I don’t have the guts for it, but I’ll prove him wrong. I will find the evidence I need and show the police who the real killer is. That way they won’t be able to pin it on me.
Sliding aside the curtains, I look out the window and stare at the license plate. The numbers are etched into my memory; I’ve seen them so many times. I guess it shouldn’t be too hard for my friends at the police station to find out who it belongs to.
I make a quick call to my father. “Father.”
“Hi, honey. How are you? We haven’t spoken since … well, are you feeling better?”
He wasn’t even at the funeral. He was too busy using a pair of scissors to cut a ribbon around a new opera building that just opened in town. Guess some things are more important than others are. Oh well, I can’t blame him. I would’ve given anything to be anywhere but at that grave.
“Yeah, much better,” I lie. I’m being threatened not to spill the truth to the police while they’re about to find out it was me who gave the glass containing the poison to Phillip. I’d hardly call that ‘better.’
“Hey, I was wondering … Could you get a license plate number checked for me?” I ask with a sweet voice.
“Honey … We talked about this.”
“I know, Father, but this is important. I promise you, you’ll want to help me on this.”
“I can’t just abuse my connections.”
“Please?” I ask with an even sweeter voice.
He sighs. “Oh, all right.”
“Thank you!” I say. “I’ll send you the number via text.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I don’t know if they will tell me what you want to know, but I can try.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get it done. They always listen to you. You’re such an inspiration for the city!” I really need to stop, before I barf in my mouth.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you. Let me know when you get it.”
“Should be within a couple of days.”
“Okay. Loved talking to you. Bye.” I hang up the phone before he can say anything else. It’s not unusual to get what I want without being very nice. This is just how things go in our family. We use and abuse to our heart’s content.
Oh well, time for my treatment at the spa. I have to do something while I wait for the call anyway … besides, it’s not like I’m followed or anything, and that I have to keep up the charade. Oh, but wait, I do.
Which is why I pretend that I’m not doing anything out of the ordinary, as usual. I’m good at playing the dumbass. It provides a good cover so I can surprise people when I waltz all over them. They never see what’s coming their way until it’s too late.
I need the info my father will supply, so there’s plenty of time to waste.
All good things come to those who wait.
*
One hour later…
When I’m back home, the first thing I do is lounge on the couch with a cold drink. I’m finally able to have a living room to myself without Phillip claiming the television. You know, I never knew how wonderful it would be not to have him around. You know what? I’m glad he died. I’m not going to lie. I hated his guts, and there’s no point in denying it. I almost feel bad for wanting him gone even sooner. Almost.
Taking a deep breath, I look out the window and enjoy the short bursts of sunlight when all of the sudden the doorbell rings.
Pablo, our housekeeper, goes to open it. “Mrs. Starr. It’s the police.”
Frowning, I get up from my seat. “What do they want?”
“Could you come to the door, please, Mrs. Starr,” I hear the police call out.
I tiptoe to the door in my ballet shoes, only to find a man staring at me with parted lips and a cold look on his face.
“What’s the matter?” I ask. “Found anything new in my husband’s case?”
“Yes, ma’am. As a matter of fact, we found out what poisoned him.” My heart sinks into my shoes. “We have to take you to the station.”
“What?” I say, my breath hitching in my throat.
“I’m sorry, but we have to take you in for questioning.”
Before I can say anything, the police officer has already stepped into my house and grabbed my hand. “I’ll escort you to the car.”
I nod slowly, but my body is going numb. As if I’m in a trance from which I can’t wake up.
“I’ll watch the house for you, Mrs. Starr,” Pablo says.
“Yes …” I murmur, as the officers escort me to the car.
I’ve never sat in a police car. This will be my first time.
And as a criminal, too.
This is all his fault, fucking Phoenix Sullivan. He’s trying to pin it on me, but I won’t let him get away with it. One way or another, I’ll get out of this mess, and when I do, he’ll burn for this.
*
Two hours later…
“I already told you that I’m innocent.”
“Yes, ma’am, you keep saying that, but all evidence points in your direction.”
I sigh out loud. “Yes, I gave that glass to him, but I didn’t know it was filled with poison.”
“It’s a little too much of a coincidence.”
“What is?” I frown.
“Well, considering your husband’s … affairs and the current state of your marriage, it’s not looking good from our perspective.”
“You base your conclusions on the tabloids,” I say, leaning forward. “Shame on you. You should know better than that.”
“Not entirely, Mrs. Starr. Our sources place your husband at a local strip club and multiple other venues where there are walkers on the streets.”
“You mean hooker
s. Call it for what it is.” I make a face. I’m seriously not impressed with their efforts.
“We understand your frustration, but we have substantial evidence against you.”
“No, you don’t. All you have is some glass, which I supposedly gave him, and my supposed anger toward my husband for cheating. That’s not evidence, that’s circumstantial, at best. You’re just trying to pin it on me, just like the real killer.”
“And who do you suppose this real killer is then?” they ask, as if they don’t know it’s not me.
“Phoenix Sullivan. And he’s still out there on the streets right now, doing his business. He’s probably off killing someone else as we speak.”
The police officer smiles at me. I know he doesn’t believe me, but they can’t keep me here forever, either.
“So, is this conversation finished? Can I go home now?” I ask.
“We still have a few questions …”
“You don’t have anything against me, so you’re holding me against my will. If I’m not under arrest, I’m free to go. So let me out.” I look him in the eyes. “Now.”
He sighs. “All right. If you’re not willing to help us.”
“I am, but you’re not listening.”
He grabs a pen and a notebook. “Tell us where he lives then. I will go and talk to him.”
“Like talking will help,” I say. “He won’t tell you the truth, if that’s what you’re thinking.” I laugh. “Imagine that, a killer telling you that he murdered someone.” Now I can’t stop laughing.
He clears his throat to interrupt me. “We will check it out. For now, you’re free to go. But that doesn’t mean you’re not still a suspect.”
“I know. Don’t worry, I won’t run,” I say as I get up from my seat. “You think I’m a criminal, but you’re wrong, and I will prove it.”
“Please don’t do anything against the law,” he says, also getting up as I walk to the door.
I smile as I pass him, pausing for a second. “I’ll see you soon then.”
Sooner than he thinks.
Chapter Nine
Vanessa
That night
When I get home, I’m exhausted, and the rain pouring down on my head isn’t helping either. I feel miserable after today, totally defeated from the news that I’m really a suspect in my husband’s murder. Now, more than ever, I feel the loneliness creeping up inside me, and it makes me want to scream.
But I don’t. Instead, I cling onto my phone and call Arthur’s number.
“Hey,” I say when he picks up. “It’s me.”
“Vanessa. Are you all right? You sound sick.”
I sigh. “No, actually, not at all.”
“What happened?”
I sniff. “They questioned me. They think I killed Phillip.”
“Oh, no …” I can hear him take a deep breath. “That’s not good news at all, especially not after … well, you know.”
“I know; it’s just a little too much right now.”
“Are you all by yourself?” he asks.
“Yes, but …”
“Come to my house then. We can talk about it.” There’s not an ounce of doubt in his voice, which makes me feel like he really does care about me.
“Okay …”
“Just come over,” he says.
I swallow. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Don’t think for too long,” he says, chuckling.
“Thank you for… Well, you know,” I say, clearing my throat. “Bye.”
I end the call before he can say anything else. I know what he wants. By inviting me to his home, he doesn’t just want to talk. I know him too well for that. He’s always been there for me the moment I need it the most. He gives me what I need—love, which is exactly what I crave right now.
I feel so bad for wanting it, but my entire body is shaking with need. Today has been such a bad day, and nothing will make it better except to be with the only person who cares about me. Urges overwhelm me, so I do what any sane person would do. I turn around and go back to my car, switching my brain off. I don’t think about what I’m going to do, I just act on my feelings. After all, everyone needs to feel loved.
*
Thirty minutes later …
As I stand in front of Arthur’s door, I bite my lip, contemplating on whether or not to ring the bell. The guilt has wormed its way back into my heart, telling me it isn’t right, that I shouldn’t even be considering this, but what else am I supposed to do? I can’t keep wallowing in self-pity. I can’t stay alone forever. And just because he is Phillip’s brother doesn’t make it bad … Phillip isn’t here anymore, there is no more connection. Nothing separates Arthur and me. Nothing stands in our way.
The decision is made for me as the door opens anyway. Arthur’s standing in the doorway with a half undone shirt, and from what I can tell by peeking, he’s packing quite a few muscles. For his age, he looks damn fine. I guess he does like to work out once in a while.
“Vanessa, you’re here,” he says, frowning.
“Surprised?” I say, patting my hair, which is soaked.
“Yeah, a little. Come in, come in,” he says, ushering me inside.
I walk inside, and he closes the door behind us. His house looks quite cozy, not big like mine, but comfortable. The lights have a nice red glow to them, and the temperature inside the house is just right. Warm enough for me to stop shivering and finally dry my hair.
Arthur walks to the kitchen. “You must be cold. Let me make some tea.”
“Oh, that would be great,” I say. “It’s such bad weather outside.”
“I’m surprised you came through this storm,” he says, chuckling. “I wasn’t expecting it, but it’s a nice surprise.”
“Hmm … Well, I did question if I should for a second.”
“I could’ve come to your house too, but I didn’t want to overstep. I mean, it’s still fresh and everything.” He comes back with tea as I sit down on the couch. “I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.”
“Oh, I get you,” I say. “It’s okay. Thanks.”
He puts down the tea and sits down beside me. I grab my cup and take a sip, which instantly warms up my body.
“Are you cold? I can grab a blanket,” he says, unsure whether I’ll allow him to sit next to me or not.
“No, I’m fine,” I say, smiling.
There’s an uncomfortable vibe between us that I just can’t seem to shake. Every time I look at him, he gazes back with this comforting smile that makes me shiver. I want to say something, but I have no clue what and I guess he doesn’t either, looking at his parted lips. We laugh a little and I take another sip of my tea to break the weird mood.
“So … What did the police ask you?” Arthur says.
I swallow away the lump in my throat. “They accused me of killing him.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“Because he was poisoned.” I look at him, my eyes getting watery again. “They think I gave it to him on purpose.”
“Oh, no …” he says, putting his hand in front of his mouth. “So you’re the prime suspect now?”
“I didn’t do it, Arthur.” I put down my cup. “Yes, I gave him the glass, but I didn’t know it had poison in it. They don’t believe me.” My voice is getting higher with every passing second, and I feel like I’m going to break. “They think I did it on purpose. Please, you have to believe me, Arthur. I’m not a murderer.”
“Shhh …” He puts his arms around me and hugs me tight. “I believe you.”
His hands are on my back, caressing me while I listen to his deep breaths. It calms me down to be in his vicinity. I just hope he believes me. I don’t want to lose anyone else.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “I mean, they could come and question you, too.”
He grabs my arms and pushes me back. “I believe only you, Vanessa. Always. I trust you.” His hand drifts to my cheek, his thumb stroking me tenderly. “How could I not believe you? I feel too mu
ch for you to ever be able to ignore your words.”
My lips quiver as he leans forward and looks me in the eye. “I don’t know what to say … I feel …” I shudder, sucking a breath. “I don’t know what I should feel.”
“Me neither, but I know it feels good.” He grabs my hand and places it on his chest. “I feel it in here, and always when I’m around you. I know you feel it, too. I can’t ignore it anymore.”
“But I’m a married woman,” I say, leaning into his soft hand cupping my face, which feels so nice.
“Were. And my brother wasn’t good to you. He didn’t deserve your love.” His hand moves to my chin to lift my head. “Let me comfort you.”
He leans in further, and I let him. Before I realize it, his lips are on mine, kissing me softly. It feels so good … so normal … like it was always supposed to be this way. Arthur has always admired me, loved me, even from a distance, when he couldn’t come near me. But with his brother no longer here, we finally have the chance to try something new.
His kisses are gentle and soothing, so good that I want more. I wrap my arms around his neck and invite him even closer. Our kiss becomes deeper the more seconds pass. I can’t get enough. It feels like all the floodgates have opened and all that I’ve been holding inside comes pouring out.
His tongue dips out to probe the rim of my mouth and seduce me into giving in and opening up completely. I do what my gut tells me, turning my brain off, enjoying the moment. Desperate to get closer, I press my body to his. He slowly crawls on top of me, pushing me into the sofa with my back as he rests on top of me. His kisses become faster and his hands start roaming across my body. I squirm underneath him as he cups my ass and squeezes, a groan audible through all the kissing. I love the way it sounds, the rawness of his need, and wonder how long he has kept this hunger stored inside him.
His hands find their way to the hem of my dress and slowly creep up underneath, dragging the fabric with them. A moan rolls over my lips as his hands slide up toward my breasts, and he covers my mouth with his. I can feel his hard-on poking me through his pants, and I immediately feel the urge to push his zipper down and take him right here, right now. I don’t care about the consequences of what we’re doing. I don’t care about anything, and that’s okay. We both need love, and we found it in each other.
