Page 131 of Reveal

I step toward him, my foot going behind the wheel to stop his progress, and then lean down to his face. He smells of cigar smoke and Old Spice and urine. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I whisper the warning. “We wouldn’t want your secret to get out. The only award for a child rapist is one you can get behind bars.” I move my foot from behind his wheel and look him in the eye without flinching. “Do I make myself clear?”

He nods, his head moving up and down slightly, his body trembling, his eyes wide and wild.

“What do you want?” he asks in a strained voice.

“A villa on Lake Como. World peace. Fuckers like you to die a slow, painful death.” I shrug callously. “But beggars can’t be choosers. We all can’t get what we want.”

“Why are you here?”

“So a rich, brilliant”—I roll my eyes—“man like you gets custody of your sister’s two girls. Most people would try to give them the best life possible. They’d love them and nurture them. They’d treat them as their own. But you’re not most people, are you, James? No. You figure it’s the perfect way to feed that urge you have. The one that only sick fucks have whose dicks need to be cut off for even thinking such thoughts let alone acting on them.”

“I never—”

“Save it for your family who will buy your bullshit. Not me. Uh-uh. What I don’t understand is this . . . if Samantha really shot you like you told the police she did, then why did you never pursue it? Why did you not take all this money you spend buying books you’ll never read and get vengeance on the person who turned you into a bag of useless bones? A single shot to the spine? Isn’t that where Sam shot you? Oh, yes. I forgot. That’s what the police report says, but the medical records show that the shot was more aimed at your pelvis. Can’t imagine why you wouldn’t want those details out there.”

I chuckle and shake my head. My own restlessness breathing the same air as this piece of shit is more than I can stand.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re lying—”

“Took you a minute to find your backbone to stand up for yourself, but I guess Samantha took care of that when she shot you after you raped her one too many times. Huh?”

“Beatrice!” he shouts again, and within seconds I have the doors shut to the library.

I’m nowhere near finished with him yet.

“I want you out of my house, right now. I’ll call the cops. I’ll—”

“Please do. We can square up this matter right now and get their files updated with what really should be in there.” I point to the phone on the desk. “Should I dial for you?”

“Whatever Samantha told you is a lie.”

“It is?” I hold the chain up so the key swings back and forth. “Remember this? She used to wear it all the time.”

He shrugs as best as he can. “So?”

“This right here is the key.” I laugh. “Get it? The key? The one that holds all the evidence to prove she wasn’t lying.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“Believe me. Don’t believe me. I couldn’t care less. The documents don’t lie.” But I do. Hell, I’m lying through my teeth. At least being a lawyer pays off at some point. “Journals that document your threats to her. Calendars with each and every time you touched her notated. It’s like a road map to your sick and twisted abuse.”

“I didn’t touch her.”

“You say the words, but the look on your face, the sheer terror that I’m going to let the world know that the brilliant mind is also a sick fuck? That paints a whole different story.”

His face grows paler, if that’s possible. “What do you want?”

“I want you to admit you did it.”

“No.”

“No, you won’t admit it, or no, you didn’t do it?” I press. “Just a few simple words and I’ll leave.” My smile is less than sincere.

“Why are you here?”

“I just told you.”

“You want something else, though. I’m not naive enough to believe there isn’t more to it.”