Page 12 of Little Twisted Things

“And that’s a good thing?” My brow raised.

“You’re wounding me, Dahlia.” He clutched the book to his chest.

“I’m trying to understand, Alex.”

“Let me be clear. It would be like you being overly excited about a rare painting you found. Perhaps, so rare that there were only three in the entire world.”

“Okay. Okay. I get it. You really love them.”

“I do. They’re history. They’ve survived wars, floods, fires, and generations of owners. Long after we’re gone, they’ll still be here. They deserve to be preserved. But enough about the books. Let’s eat.” He grinned, taking the cartons of food to the table.

I glanced at the stack sitting on the island. Most people collected things because they were valuable. Like art. Alex collected rare edition books because they told stories. The same way I looked at art.

“You know,” Alex said, sticking a piece of General Tso’s Chicken into his mouth. “One day you’re going to tell me that Chinese food is better than anything you can cook.” A sly grin crossed his lips.

“Don’t push your luck, Mr. Whitmore.”

He chuckled and stared down at his plate. His smile slowly disappeared, and the kitchen became silent.

“What is it?” I asked.

He let out a sigh. “I can’t stop thinking about Kevin.”

I picked up a Crab Rangoon with my chopsticks.

“It’s understandable.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s strange. When I go to work on Monday, he won’t be in the faculty lounge complaining about something or asking if I want coffee. His car won’t be parked two rows down from mine. And he won’t just waltz over here to shoot the shit as he did. It’s really hard wrapping my mind around it. Sure, he had his flaws, but he was a good guy.”

I reached my hand across the table and rested it over his.

“Dinners, conversations, jokes. Then one morning they’re just gone.”

I gently squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, Alex.”

“For what? He was your friend too. I just hate unfinished goodbyes.”

I’m sorry I had to kill your friend.

It was getting late, so we cleaned up the kitchen and headed upstairs to get ready for bed. As I was in the bathroom, I heard the TV turn on. When I walked into the room, Alex was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the TV.

“Sources tell us that investigators are exploring possible connections to the recent murder of the young woman whose body was discovered beneath the same tree just as little as two weeks ago.”

Alex glanced at me and frowned. “The same tree? So, they’re saying they’re connected?”

I shrugged.

“The similarities are difficult to ignore,” the reporter continued. “Both victims were found carefully posed beneath the same tree in the same state park. Although the murders were significantly different.”

“I don’t understand,” Alex said. “Why Kevin? He didn’t do drugs. He didn’t have any gambling debts. And he certainly wasn’t the kind of person who made enemies. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

Not to him it didn’t. He knew Kevin had been unfaithful. He knew about his assistant. He listened to Kevin confess and claim Rachel made him love life again. Alex only saw a flawed man. A man who made a terrible choice. But I saw something entirely different. I saw a man who looked his wife in the eyes every morning and lied without remorse. A man who had become so comfortable with deception that it flowed naturally like breathing. Kevin hadn’t been murdered because someone hated him. It wasn’t random. He wasn’t murdered because he made a mistake. He deliberately chose to deceive his family and would continue to do so instead of asking for a divorce because it would cause great financial difficulty for him.

I understood what had to be done and why. Every last reason.

6

Detective Paige Walker