God, it’s tempting.
The whispers in my head remind me of how I wanted to do this before, the time in the parking garage when Larkin stopped me. I’d been so close to getting what I wanted from him, to ending his miserable life.
“Are you married?” The question comes out of my mouth before I can help it, though I don’t look up at either of them. My attention is fixed on Yoichi, who continues to taste the air with his forked tongue.
“Pardon me?” Flanagan asks slowly.
“Sorry, maybe I asked too quickly. I’ll speak slower. Are. You. Married?”
Esme moves to put the island between her and Flanagan, but I don’t need the shield. With his attention on me, I don’t feel any less confident where I am.
“Divorced,” Flanagan allows finally, his tone curious. “Why?”
“So you never, not once, fought with your wife?” Finally I look up at him, knowing that every line of my body screams boredom, unlike Es. “Though given you’re divorced, I can’t really imagine that’s the case.”
His eyes narrow ever so slightly, his grin remaining in place but looking wooden. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“You don’t? You mean no one in your life would describe your relationship as emotional or tumultuous? Interesting.” I tilt my head to the side, aware of my goading gaze and overconfidence. “I guess I’m not used to seeing that kind of static, boring relationship. But well, maybe your wife wasn’t on board with it either?” My brows raise a little, and I can see that I’ve hit a nerve.
“Anyway,” I don’t let him speak, and the word leaves my mouth with a dismissive huff. “Esme and him fought, yeah. He showed up here the last night anyone heard from him, and he was drunk. He hit her.” I gesture at Esme, whose eyes are on mine and wide with horror.
But she doesn’t need to worry about me betraying her. That’s never something I’d consider, no matter what. Besides, she’s not the one who killed him.
“I took him home after their fight.” This is where the lie comes in. “Well, I tried to take him home. Esme gave me his address and I started to go there, but he decided he didn’t want to go home.” I shrug, as if to ask, ‘what can you do?’
“Where did you take him?” Flanagan asks carefully, obviously deciding this is worth him going out on a limb for the information. “And why didn’t you tell me this when I asked? It feels a little?—”
“Suspicious?” I interrupt smoothly. “Yeah. Neither of us wanted to make a bigger deal of us than it was. Or rather, what we thought it was.” I skirt around confirming or denying that Alan is dead. Thankfully, forensics still hasn’t been able to identify his body that they pulled out of the bay, or rather, the remains of it that miraculously hadn’t included his head or hands.
Thank you, local marine life.
“But I can show you where I dropped him off at his request. If you want me to, anyway.” I say it as if it’s just a boring fact. Like there’s nothing to really worry about, and like he won’t find anything there.
Which, honestly, he won’t.
“I’m not sure you could GPS it.” I need a reason for him to go, so I add that part before he can suggest otherwise. I don’t want to seem excited, or nervous. My veins hum with excitement and trepidation, and my heart beats with intent in my chest to make itself known.
Don’t go down that well, Tova.
Cass’s words ring in my head, and I send him a silent apology for what I’m planning to do. He wouldn’t approve, and he’d absolutely try to stop me.
“All right.” Flanagan’s response makes my blood surge, though I don’t let it show on my face. It’s so hard not to smile at how easy this is, and I just watch him with that same, impassive look on my face. “Is it far? I’m not riding with you, but I’ll follow, if you’re offering.”
“I’m offering,” I agree flatly. “And it’s about thirty minutes or so, depending on traffic.” Probably closer to forty-five.
“Tova…” Esme’s voice is a soft hiss from the kitchen, and I glance her way with a reassuring smile.
“It’s okay,” I assure her, meeting her gaze and keeping my words slow so she doesn’t mistake them for anything else. “It’s all good, Es. I don’t mind taking him. If it helps him find Alan?—”
Flanagan snorts. “I think the cops have already found Alan,” he admits in an unfriendly voice. “But until one of you is ready to admit what really happened that night, I’ll go along with this little game. I’ll even give you the benefit of the doubt and say I might believe you. His mother said he liked to take himself out of situations to walk off his emotions.”
That’s an interesting way for her to say that he had an anger problem. But I shrug and head for my room to grab my shoes and a hoodie, though I make a stop at my dresser for the box cutter inside that Larkin had so meticulously cleaned before giving back to me at dinner a few nights ago.
It’s heavy in my hands, prompting me to stand still in the middle of my room for a moment with Yoichi twining around my shoulders like a devilish familiar. My thumb tests the edge of the blade, and the sharpness sends a shiver up my spine.
Last time, Flanagan got away from me without knowing it. Though it was probably for the best, since killing him in a parking garage would’ve been both messy and public. But this time, with excitement rather than anger fueling me and a plan coming together in my head, things will be different.
This time, Flanagan will serve more than one purpose for me, though he doesn’t know it yet. I’ll happily admit to him what I did, once we’re at the place I threw Alan’s body over the cliff to be gnawed on by the animals living in the water below.
