Close to Home

by Nolon King

  The scarves tied her to this, like a submissive’s wrists to her master’s whims. And here she was, trying to figure out why someone was trying so hard to flatter her with homicide.

  Selena shouldn’t feel so excited. But the heat felt good, warming her from the inside. She would do anything to keep it going, despite the danger.

  But there was a big problem, looming and serious. Something that could plow into their lives and total them, like an eighteen-wheeler careening into a MINI Cooper.

  Now that there were four scarves, someone would put two and two together.

  At first Selena believed that the third scarf would be tied to her, distinctive as it was, and eager as amateur sleuths tended to be. But after a few days passed without any attention — an eternity in awareness online — she felt safe enough to settle back into her skin.

  But this new scarf … emerald green with yellow darts? That one graced Selena’s neck on the back of her latest book. It was impossible to believe that no one was going to notice that. And once they noticed this last one, the preceding three would line up single file to accuse her.

  You were wrong about your research.

  You were wrong about your husband.

  You were wrong about everything.

  Now people are dead, just like your career.

  She knew Adam better than anyone on the planet. She hadn’t just bet his career on his ability to control his violence, she’d bet her life, and the lives of her children. She couldn’t be wrong about him. Their very existence proved it.

  Unless he was just getting started.

  Unless their sessions merely delayed the inevitable.

  What did Selena really know?

  Not nearly as much as she pretended in front of the cameras.

  She doubted that the police would find any hard evidence at the crime scene. Not in the car, not in the house, not anywhere near Rancho Vista. This killer was too clever for that. And whatever they found on Ollie would be entirely circumstantial, like last time.

  Almost as if it were planted.

  It really could be him. Her Adam. But if she had been wrong all these years, and he really was sick, then …

  No. She still couldn’t think about it. Not until she knew for sure.

  And even then, Selena would—

  Her phone buzzed.

  Then it buzzed and buzzed and buzzed and buzzed.

  Her heart was an army of drums as she picked it up and looked at the screen.

  LifeLyfe was exploding.

  Because someone had leaked the truth about The Virgin.

  And now her phone was ringing. The screen read: Sam.

  Selena screamed.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Corban had seen his mother’s rage once before, but compared to now, that time seemed like a kitten lazily batting at a ball of yarn.

  He’d heard his parents fight before, but never like this. And those fights usually happened in their bedroom, not her office. And he couldn’t just go play a game with Levi like he used to.

  Not that Levi would be any help at all right now.

  Corban had learned about the leak around the same time as his mom. His phone was blowing up as she screamed.

  She paced, listening to — then yelling at — Sam.

  She paced, screaming at her husband.

  She paced, upstairs, downstairs, inside, outside, and he had no doubt that she kept pacing behind her closed office door.

  His mother was livid. But he understood. In his own way, Corban was equally angry.

  He couldn’t believe Kari had done this to him.

  He had to see her. He couldn’t wait to ride there on his bike. And if Dad came out and found his Porsche missing, so fucking what? Maybe he could write about it in his diary.

  He took the extra set of keys from the kitchen drawer, then went outside, climbed into the driver’s seat, and raced toward Kari’s, imagining all of the many things he was going to say. Because even though he loved her with all his heart, and had for a while, right now he hated her. She was responsible for the horror that had rolled into his life.

  Corban looked at the speedometer, realized he was going over sixty in a thirty-five, and eased up on the pedal.

  He couldn’t afford a ticket, or anything else. Getting stopped by an officer now would be a disaster.

  Do you know how fast you were driving back there?

  Is this your car, son?

  Hey, aren’t you the one with the dad who confessed to being a murderer?

  No. He’d confessed to having murderous thoughts. That wasn’t the same thing.

  Or was it?

  He pulled up in front of Kari’s house, saw that Ollie’s car wasn’t in the driveway — he didn’t park in garages, because it changed a vehicle’s natural temperature — and got out. Corban wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that Ollie wasn’t home, or if he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life, but the fury inside him couldn’t be restrained.

  If he had any future with Kari at all, he had to find out. Now.

  He knocked on the door. Rang the bell. Knocked again harder when she still didn’t answer.

  He knew she was home.

  He couldn’t see her or smell her or hear her, but Corban could feel her, just like always, and with a sixth sense that felt helluva lot stronger than one he shared with his twin.

  He pounded harder against the wood. Did she think he would give up if she ignored him?

  Kari finally opened the door.

  “What?” She didn’t seem surprised to see him.

  “How could you?”

  Without blinking or flinching or drawing a breath, she asked, “What did you expect me to do?”

  “KEEP YOUR WORD!”

  This time, she did flinch, taking several steps back, leaving the door wide open.

  Corban marched inside. He’d never been angrier.

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “No, you’re not! You know exactly what you did! You traded your dad for mine, even though you promised that we would wait! It hasn’t even been a day!”

  His breath came in hitches, catching in his throat. His eyes burned, and so did his skin.

  “Calm down, Corban. You made me promise. That wasn’t fair.”

  “But what you did was?”

  “If you let me explain—”

  “I hope you’re planning to start with I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not!” Corban words could blister the air between them. “If you were sorry then you wouldn’t have done it!”

  “I’m not sorry I reported what we found out, I’m just sorry that it hurt you.”

  “Then you’re not sorry. You promised. And it’s what I found out, Kari. I told you because I trusted you.”

  “I’m sorry I broke my promise, but you would have done the same thing! If your mom was on trial, either for real or in the court of public opinion, then you would protect her. I’m trying to protect my dad, because that’s all I can do. I don’t even have a mom to keep safe anymore.”

  “I stuck with you when everyone else—”

  “Why should my father suffer when your father is the one admitting that he wants to kill people?”

  When she said it like that, he knew that everyone was going to take her side. They’d been willing to turn on Ollie for being weird. Once they read what his own father had written, they probably wouldn’t even bother to investigate. They’d take his fantasies as a confession and lock him right up.

  Even if they didn’t believe Corban had known, they’d see him as the son of a serial killer forever. His life was over, too.

  He turned around, walked outside, got back into his father’s Porsche, and drove with his hands shaking on the wheel, barely looking until he nearly collided with a rusty 90s era 4Runner.

  The braying horn returned Corban to center. But a part of him wondered if it would’ve been easier if he hadn’t swerved back into his own lane.
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  If dying would be easier than living.

  He raced against the daylight as though night had sworn its allegiance to end him. But he couldn’t go home. Not yet. How could he face his parents, now that he knew?

  Now that they knew he knew?

  Maybe his father was a monster.

  Made sense, since it had felt like Corban was living in hell.

  The images were nails and his memory a hammer.

  Adam drowning his pancakes in cherry syrup at some roadside dive on the way to Vegas. He looked like Levi, the first time he saw porn. The way that Adam looked at their mother …

  Adam laughing at a movie that Corban hadn’t even wanted to watch, full of flesh, knives, and gory horror. He pointed to a pile of limbs and husks, covered in buckets of blood. “Anyone gonna eat that?” Then Levi laughed with him.

  Adam saying to Ollie, just imagine all the blood!

  Hey look, there’s the body and here’s the blood.

  Imagine that instead of these quiet, silent deaths, the killer really went to town. Made McNuggets out of the family. Left their eyeballs floating in the soup. I mean, gruesome shit. Bloody. Well, no one could ever think that was you, could they?

  Corban parked. But he couldn’t get out of the car.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Adam knew better than to ask, but somehow the question slipped out anyway. “Do we have to do this now?”

  “Of course we have to do this now, Adam. This isn’t a chore you can half-ass and pretend that you didn’t, or a movie we can pause. This is an argument. It deserves your attention now. Asking me if this can be done later is the same as telling me that this isn’t important to you.”

  “This is important to me, which is why I brought it up. But my side of this only got about a minute before we were back on The Selena Show and I was wishing for Tivo, because this is definitely a show I’d delete from my queue.”

  Adam didn’t have an issue dealing with it, but he had a big problem with the way she was addressing him, and the entire situation. She wouldn’t come out and say what she was thinking. Instead, she was unraveling, one passive-aggressive statement at a time. Just like her career. It seemed like she wanted to take him down with her.

  But Adam wasn’t about to let that happen.

  “Just say it, Selena. If you want me to stay up here and talk to you, then fine. You either need to listen and help me, or say whatever is on your goddamned mind and stop forcing me to try and read it.”

  “I’m not forcing you to do anything.”

  “You’re forcing me to stay up here in the bedroom with you, when it’s obvious that we’re not getting anywhere.”

  “You mean you’re not getting your way.”

  “Not even close.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  Adam threw up his hands.

  “Are you kidding me?” He started to pace.

  “Will you please stop being dramatic?” Selena practically screamed. He’d finally gotten under her skin. “What is it, specifically in this moment, that you want from me?”

  “How about a little fucking empathy? How about you see what’s happening around you, instead of waiting around for Sam to call and tell you. How about—”

  “Is this where you just make a list of things to insult me?”

  “How about you care about someone other than yourself for a change?”

  “So, that’s a yes.”

  “It’s out there, and there’s nothing we can do to change that. I don’t care what Sam promises you, that cat already scratched its way out of the bag. I’ve been outed. The world knows I’m a killer.”

  “You’re not a killer, Adam. Not even close.”

  “Close enough. I’m suppressed. This would have been the most earth-shattering event of my life even without the string of murders only miles away.”

  “Exactly. And what do you think that does to the credibility of my work? Of our work?”

  “Absolutely nothing! What does one have to do with the other? Why are you making this about you, even after I keep begging you not to?”

  “Because it’s about me too, Adam. It’s about all of us. It’s about the future that we’ve invested in together. We can’t afford this.”

  “What do you mean, we can’t afford this? We’re doing fine.”

  “Sure we are, in part because we’re borrowing against a tomorrow that seemed all but guaranteed.” She turned toward Adam, snarling, “And now you’ve gone and fucked that all up!”

  “You always told me that I couldn’t stop my thoughts, but I could always control what I did with them.”

  “And are you?”

  Adam stared at his wife. Couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “I agree,” she said.

  He looked at the door.

  “You’re not leaving until we’re done.”

  “I’m not leaving?”

  He sure as hell would be leaving. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice. The police would surely want to have a chat at any moment. He had to start thinking about where he would go, and how he would survive on the run.

  It didn’t matter whether the police arrested him. Just as with Ollie, the questioning would be enough to ruin his life.

  And unlike Ollie, Adam had said some terrible, terrible things.

  What would happen to the boys, with their father on the run and their mother’s career in ashes?

  How dare she sit there and moan about how this was going to hurt her career when she should’ve been thinking about how this would hurt their family?

  She finally broke the silence. “No. You’re not. Let’s finish this.”

  Great idea.

  “Fine. Then why don’t you just say whatever it is you haven’t been saying? I’m sick of smelling it on you.”

  “Better than what I’ve been smelling on you.”

  More silence. Another glance at the door.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Too late.” If she’d actually talk about this — not at or around it, but really dig into it — he’d gladly stay. But this pretending … this, whatever it was, he couldn’t be a part of it.

  Adam wanted to throw up.

  He shook his head at Selena and headed for the door.

  He felt slightly better the second he was on the other side.

  “Adam … Adam … ADAM!”

  He ignored her all the way downstairs. He had to get out of the house. It didn’t even matter where he went, just as long as it was away from this place.

  But still, Adam knew exactly where he was going to go.

  And maybe even what he would do once he got there.

  If he could gather the courage.

  Finally. Get the guts to spill hers onto the floor.

  Into the kitchen and over to the fridge. He yanked the door like he was trying to unstick it. The thing flew open and the cold air that Adam had been craving started kissing his face.

  Banish the thoughts. Before they took control and made him do one of the few things that would make his situation worse than it already was.

  Adam closed the fridge, hesitating when he saw Dane in the living room with Levi and their friends. The other boys deliberately ignored him, but Dane turned around to leer at him.

  Adam stared back. Without looking away, he opened the fridge again, reached inside, and grabbed a bottle of beer. Then he opened a drawer, pulled out a bottle opener, popped the top of his local craft, and took a swig.

  It was easy to hold his smile with the things he was imagining doing to this little punk-ass pile of semen and shit. Adam would love to end him, and could merrily count the ways.

  One: I’m going to punch you in the throat, then while you’re choking on your few final breaths I’ll carve a hole in the back of your neck. You’ll be in shock, but quickly understanding that all of the blood will be leaving your body, and that I will use your empty husk to mop it up from the floor. I
’m going to shove my fingers into that fresh hole and yank on your spine. Blood will rain when I disconnect tissues. Then I will puncture your organs, empty a one-gallon jug of gas into the hole, and drop a match.

  Two. I’m going to—

  No. He couldn’t do this.

  These thoughts would destroy him.

  He nodded at Dane, almost pleasant, and walked toward the door with his beer.

  He was worse than worthless, a total pariah.

  His kids were never going to look at him the same way again, and it was all his fault.

  He opened the door and looked back into the living room before leaving, wondering why Levi and his friends were downstairs at all. They practically lived in the game room. Maybe Corban was upstairs and they were all down here because he and Levi still weren’t talking. They weren’t even watching TV or playing a game. No one was on their phone. They were all just sitting around on the couch, staring at the coffee table in silence.

  Dane nodded back at Adam. Slow, like it was some sort of threat.

  Right. He was probably going to prison for the rest of his life for being a serial killer, but what really scared him was a teenaged piss-ant with an attitude.

  Adam stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

  He had suffered long enough, and everyone thought he was guilty anyway.

  It was time to do what he’d been born to do, and yet denied all his life.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “He’s gone,” Dane said to the group, though it was mostly for Levi.

  “About time,” Levi said. “I still don’t want to go upstairs.”

  For some reason the game room had started to feel like a prison. And he wasn’t about to have his parents’ bullshit keep him out of the rest of his house.

  “I wouldn’t want to either,” Dane said. “Good for you.”

  Elliot raised his hand. “I would like to offer the counterproposal that Levi sucks, and that the game room is better than this stupid living room.”

  “I’m with Elliot,” Pussabo said.

  Dane laughed. “It’s better than your living room. That place only looks good in the dark.”

  “I told you why I don’t want to be up there,” Levi said, sick of discussing it.