Page 32 of Little Twisted Things

“I love you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I took down a wine glass and poured some wine into it. The most dangerous thing in the world was love. People spent their entire lives searching for it. Writing songs about it. Reading stories about it. Crossing oceans for it and destroying themselves over it. I never understood why. I supposed it had the power to convince good people to ignore their instincts. To excuse the lies. Love blinded people. It sure did for Katherine. All the signs and red flags were there, and she ignored them.

Over the years, I’d heard one too many times, “He would never do that to me.” Until he did. Love didn’t just break hearts. It shattered identities. Love wasn’t beautiful. It was a gamble. A dangerous one. I wasn’t naïve enough to make that mistake. I deeply cared for Alex. But love? Love was a luxury for people who had never watched it destroy a family. And once you’ve seen what love leaves behind, you stop believing it’s worth the risk. When I told Alex that I loved him, I felt nothing. I didn’t get all warm and fuzzy inside. I told him because he told me, and it was only right to say it back. They were only words. And sometimes, words meant nothing. Only actions did.

16

Barton Rexley. Age 40. Married to Nadine Rexley. Father of Aaron Rexley. His name replayed repeatedly inside my head. What he was doing to Nadine was unacceptable. He was the one who chose to step outside their marriage. He destroyed them, not her. She didn’t deserve to be treated the way she was. She didn’t deserve to have her finances taken away. She didn’t deserve to have her son taken from her. She begged for someone to make it stop last night. Lucky for me, I was there. I could stop it. Stop him. And I would. I’d set Nadine free from the pain and suffering her husband caused her. Once he was gone, she’d get his estate. She and her son could live their lives in peace. I’d make sure of it.

During my lunch break, I Googled Barton Rexley.

“There you are.” I smiled as I stared at his picture.

I’d pretend I wasn’t feeling well, and Tess would send me home early. I needed to formulate a plan.

An hour later, after wrapping a painting for a customer, I clasped my hand over my mouth.

“Are you okay?” Tess looked at me.

I shook my head and ran to the bathroom. A few moments later, there was a knock on the door.

“Dahlia, are you okay?”

I splashed some water on my face and unlocked the door.

“Wow. I am not feeling well. I think it was that sandwich I got for lunch.”

“You don’t look well. Go home. Go to bed, and when you wake up, make sure you hydrate.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said.

“No, Dahlia. You’re sick, and you need to go home and rest.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. We’ll be fine here. It’s a slow day.”

“Thanks, Tess.” I grabbed my purse.

“No need to thank me. Just get some rest and feel better.”

I drove home, closed the front door behind me, and locked it. I dropped my keys into the ceramic bowl on the entry table and set my purse down. Wandering into the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

Restlessness grew inside me. I sat on the couch and thought about Bart Rexley. Time was running out. Tomorrow was the 22nd day of the month. It had to be tomorrow. If I didn’t take care of the situation tomorrow, I’d have to wait until the number twenty-two presented itself again. And by the time that happened, Bart would probably have already taken Aaron away from his mother. I glanced at the painting on the wall. Eyes Without a Face.

I’d thought about the night I paid Lawrence a visit on his boat. It didn’t satisfy my needs like the others. It should have. His wife was free of him and his cheating ways. But it didn’t.

“It’s because you couldn’t inflict the exact number of wounds you always have,” I heard her voice again. “Because if you did, Detective Walker would be back in Key West.”

“I know.”

“She’d eventually see you and start piecing everything together.”

“I know.”

“This time, walk away,” she said.

“I can’t do that.”