I froze. Not Cleo. A tall figure. A man. An unfamiliar man.
“Hey!” I shouted, backing up. “Get out! This is my house!”
But the man didn’t move. Not toward me. And not toward the door. He was turned to the side and the vestibule light was off. I couldn’t see his face clearly. I didn’t recognize him.
But then I did.
My phone. On the island. I lunged for it with shaking hands.
“Put down the phone, Katrina,” the man said calmly. “If I have to hurt you, when Cleo gets here, I’ll have to hurt her, too.”
I ended the call as the 911 operator picked up. My whole body was trembling.
“It is a very beautiful house,” he said.Hisvoice. It was like fire in my bones. “You have good taste, especially considering where you came from. But then I guess all the money you were given helps. Not all of us got so lucky.”
And with that he stepped forward, so that I could see him more clearly: longish salt-and-pepper hair, square jaw, and his bright blue eyes. Electric. That’s what they were. And I knew them. I did. All these years later, those eyes were exactly the same. Impossibly blue. And now utterly dead.
But Reed wasdead.I had killed him. I’d stabbed him in the neck. Not intentionally maybe, but I’d done it. I’d seen his lifeless body on the stairs when he’d collapsed chasing after me. And yet here he was, standing in my house.
Run,I thought.He’s going to kill you.
But I couldn’t move. And there was no way out anyway. I was trapped.
“You thought I was dead, I know,” Reed said, smirking. He was still very attractive in that way he had always been, beautiful really—those eyes. And all that confidence. “I lost a lot of blood, so much blood, right? The lady who owned the house would not stop screaming. That’s the last thing I remember before I lost consciousness.” His laugh had a bitter tinge to it. “Anyway, it was touch and go there for a while, but in the end no permanent damage. Apart from this—” He lifts his hair to reveal the back of his neck. “Nasty scar. But I’m lucky with the hair. It’s made it easy to hide.”
The texts had been from him. Reed. The boy I killed. Still alive after all this time.
And Cleo. Now he was threatening Cleo.
“Stay away from my daughter.” I didn’t recognize my own voice, it was so deep and fierce.
“Bit late for that,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Cleo and Professor William Butler—I so wanted to go with the Yeats also, but, you know, there was no way … Anyway, Cleo and Professor Butler have been having a very good time together.”
The new boyfriend.Breathe. I had to keep breathing. I had to stay focused—Cleo would be here any minute.
“What do you want?”
“Well, let’s see,” he spat out. “I want my fucking future back. I’m a fifty-one-year-old assistant professor at NYU. I’d have been tenured at Harvard fifteen years ago if it weren’t for you. You cost me everything—money, success, happiness. You cost me everything I deserved. You owe me.”
“I defended myself.”
“You know, it’s funny how similar you and Cleo are,” he went on, smiling suggestively. “In nearly every way.”
Kill him. I am going to kill him.
The knife. I glanced toward the island. But Reed snatched it up, inspected the blade, then pointed it in my direction.
“Can’t have this getting into the wrong hands, can we?” He held the knife, point down, grinding it into the marble. Then he motioned for my phone. “Give that to me, too.” I handed it over, and he tucked it into his jacket pocket. “I ended up having to leave Yale, you know. After I got out of the hospital, Director Daitch made thatveryclear to me. My choices were leave New Haven or get sent to jail. Even though you and I both know you wanted it that night.”
“You drugged me. Yourapedme.” The words burned coming out of my mouth. I’d never said them out loud.
“Right, rape, sure,” he said. “What, exactly, did you think was going to happen coming over that night? You knew. You knewexactly. And you wanted it. You just felt bad about it after so you attacked me like some kind of insane animal.”
I hated the way it felt. Like he was right. Like I was to blame. For liking a boy who was that much older. For wanting so desperately for him to like me back. For someone to. Even though all I’d done was sneak out and go over to his house. I drank a cup of peppermint tea at eight o’clock at night.
Then blackness. The rest was only flashes. Like the lights going on and off. Or the scenes of a relived nightmare. My body being yanked this way and that—arms, legs. Like a rag doll. Panting in my ear. Sweat. The sound of my one “no”—only one, but loud and clear. Like a punch into the air.
Some days it felt like that sound still lived inside me—an endless primal howl.
