“Did you love any of them?” he asked me out of the blue.
“The first one, possibly, but other than that, no,” I replied. “I had a job to do.”
“You didn’t go into this for revenge. Something snapped in you.”
I reached down and grabbed my ripped shirt, pulling it on. “Sure, the evil man I married made me snap, not that it matters.”
“It does to me.”
I looked at him, unsure of what he could mean by that. “It shouldn’t.”
“I don’t know what it is about you, Maurelle, but I find myself drawn to you and everything about you. I didn’t know about your early life. I’m guessing you hid it so they couldn’t trace back to your horrible start to life, but it doesn’t mean you are evil. You don’t need to keep doing this.”
“You say that about all the women you investigate, detective?”
“No,” he said quickly. “I’ve never wanted to root for someone who chooses to do bad things before. There’s something about you that I can’t get past.”
“It must have taken a lot for you to admit that to me.”
“I’m not your ex-husbands, Maurelle. I know how to admit my feelings.”
I laughed. “No, you don’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t have two ex-wives.”
He paused, probably annoyed that I knew that about him.
“It’s tough being the wife of a cop,” he said. “They deserve someone who could make it home for dinner, or to dinner dates with their friends .”
I got off the makeshift web bed. I had no idea why I’d had it constructed, probably to use on one of the many men on my list, marriage was turning into too much of a hassle. I was going to have to turn to more efficient practices, and this idea was born. I never expected to use it on the detective. But I definitely was not complaining.“You ended it with them?”
“Yes.”
“Because you couldn’t be what they needed, or they couldn’t give you what you wanted?”
He sat up, his hand rubbing down his face and up into his hair. “What does it matter?”
“I need to know.”
“I broke up with them because when I had to leave them alone for dinner five nights in a row, I could hear their tears on the other end of the phone. I could hear their heartbreak when I couldn’t go on holiday with them or even a weekend away because work needed me. They didn’t deserve to cry over me, they deserved to be happy, and have someone by their side at all times.”
Deep inside of my chest something happened, and I felt remorse for what I had to do to him. He was a morally good man, one that didn’t deserve what I was about to do.
One I wish I had met all those years ago, back before I became who I am today. He possibly could have saved me.
Maybe.
“What are you doing?” he asked me.
I didn’t know myself, but I knew I had to get out of here.
“I’m sorry,” I told him before I hit the lever on the floor and the web board flew upright. He landed with a thud on the floor by the wall, blood trickling from his head as he slumped down to the ground. I grabbed my knife and fled up the stairs, ready to do the damage I knew I had to in order to escape.
Kane
I felt something hot around me, my head pounding as I came to, surrounded by fire.
Shit.
My brain tried desperately to piece together what had happened. The spider web that I had been on was on fire, as was half the basement. I pulled myself up, pain ricocheting through my back, sides and head as I looked for a way out. This was not the way I wanted to go out.
