That seemed to surprise her. She pulled away slightly and her face went fuzzy again. “Did I?”
“The women they found. It was you.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any harm in admitting it to you. You’ll be dead soon. But do satisfy my curiosity. How did you know?”
“His paintings. He painted the places where you buried the bodies.”
She let out a slight laugh. “Indeed, he did. It seemed to help him cope with his guilt.”
“But he didn’t kill them. You did?”
“They died by my hand, but make no mistake, it was his fault. He should have resisted temptation. He should have stayed faithful to his wife. It was only fitting he help me get rid of them.”
The confusion began to recede, and things became surprisingly clear. She was trying to kill me, but it wasn’t because Theo and I had discovered the truth about Edwin’s paintings. She wasn’t trying to cover his tracks or silence me so the truth wouldn’t come out.
She thought I’d had an affair with her husband. She thought he’d had affairs with other students, too. She’d killed them because of it, and now she was going to kill me.
“Gina, I didn’t.” My chest felt heavy, like I couldn’t breathe, as panic rose. “I didn’t have an affair with him.”
“Here we go again.”
“I swear it. I didn’t.”
“He painted you! Your face. After he promised he’d never do it again. The dirty liar promised me. I couldn’t take it anymore. What wife could?”
“Painted me? He painted landscapes.”
“No, his favorites were the paintings of his women. His whores.” She practically spat the word. “I never let anyone see them. They were too humiliating. Once I found out who they were, I burned them. Just like I’ll burn yours when you’re gone.”
“Did you kill him, too?”
“Of course I did.” She sighed. “I almost regret that. I loved him. Even after everything he did to me, I loved that man. But I couldn’t go on living like that. You were his last. I made sure of it.”
“I swear,” I said, the words coming out in a sob. “Nothing ever happened. I was just a student.”
“You want me to show you?” She got up and stormed out of my line of sight.
I tried to reach out to feel what was around me, hoping my hands might fumble onto my glasses so I could see more clearly. But my body still wouldn’t cooperate. My limbs were so heavy it was hard to move.
Trying to get up, I turned, but I couldn’t get my legs beneath me. I rolled off the couch and onto the floor with a hard thump.
“Don’t be stupid,” Gina said. “You’re not going anywhere until I get rid of you.”
She crouched in front of me, holding a small canvas. I squinted, trying to bring it into focus, and she moved it closer to my face.
“See?” Her voice was low. “It’s you.”
It was the profile of a woman who did look remarkably like me. Maybe it was me. She had long brown hair and glasses, and her nose and chin were shaped like mine.
“That doesn’t mean I had an affair with him.”
“That’s what these always meant. He painted the students he took to bed.”
“No,” I sobbed. “No. I would never.”
She pushed me over so I was on my back, one shoulder wedged against the front of the couch. My head was starting to swim again and a strange sense of euphoria swept through me. I realized with an odd sense of detachment that I was smiling. I wanted to laugh. Why? What was so funny?
Gina seemed to leave again, her footsteps fading away. I laughed out loud, although the sound of it was feeble. I had no idea why I was laughing. It felt like my grip on reality was unraveling. She’d injected me with insulin, and it was probably dropping my blood sugar dangerously low.
