Deceived (22 page)

“How do you do this?”

“What?”

“How do you date? How can you get close to anyone when you’re always moving, changing names, keeping secrets?”

“How do you?” He posed the question back to me, though it only partially applied.

I still got it. “I don’t.”

“Same here.”

“I’ve never met anyone I wanted to be with, though.”

“Neither have I.”

“Come on. You can tell me. It ends in a train wreck, right?” No way the man standing in front of me had never been in a relationship. Women must throw themselves at him. I was pretty sure that was what I was doing.

He leaned back against the counter and looked at the ceiling. “Let’s see. I attended an all-boys military academy, followed by the Marines, where I was in a war zone … ”

“There are women in the Marines. You’ve had enough time to be involved with someone.”

He ran one huge hand up my arm and back. The sight of the sinewy muscles in his forearm gave me goose bumps.

“I’m not saying I’ve dated as little as you,” he looked at me strangely, “but I am saying nothing ever went anywhere. I never met anyone who could distract me from my focus. Girls were the side note to my life. Work was my life.”

“I dated.”

“I know.” He appeased me.

“I did. I dated.”

“No one worth documenting.”

That was true enough, although it was an odd expression.

“Do you have any other questions before I turn in for the night?”

“You’re going to bed already?”

“Elle, it’s late. We have school in the morning.”

I guffawed. School seemed a relatively stupid thing to bother with. I couldn’t see the point.

“We have a façade to maintain. Brian.” He flattened his hand against his chest. He nodded to me. “You’ll need to play along with the story about the fire and stay in crowds. We’ll meet at the wall after school, and we’ll ride together. You’re not going to have any privacy. Not for a while.” He posed it carefully, as a warning. It sounded good to me.

“What about the fire? The Reaper knows there wasn’t a fire.”

He laughed. “Oh, there was a fire. You’ll read all about it in the morning paper.”

Chapter Seventeen

Reluctantly, I made my way to my new bedroom. Nicholas needed rest, and he wouldn’t sleep if I stayed in the living room. It took me about three minutes of tossing and turning before I gave up and opened my laptop. I needed to know everything about the Reaper. I needed to know how much danger Nicholas was in and what he’d be facing every time he went out because his phone buzzed.

From what I could gather, the Reaper was barely human. Profilers assumed he’d probably had a normal upbringing with a sudden trauma that caused him to snap. I didn’t buy it. I’d had a childhood trauma and I didn’t murder people. Though, I suppose, I did snap. I didn’t sleep. I had a nightmare come to life and haunt my days. The Reaper didn’t internalize it like I did. He brimmed and overflowed with hate. His murders were too brutal to be fueled by anything else. Something triggered them, too.

Investigators didn’t see the murders as random, though the girls had no connection to one another. There was a common theme. The girls were all like me. They were like everyone at the academy.

In some ways, the girls were likened to Holocaust victims because in addition to denying them food, he removed their identities. Their heads were always shaved. Their clothes were replaced with gunnysacks that he crudely cut arm and neck holes into. The media speculated but couldn’t confirm allegations of other abuse. When the girl was barely recognizable, he removed her fingerprints by burning them off. He strangled them with surgical glove–covered hands. Then he dumped her body somewhere. I shuddered thinking of the tiny orange glow. I could almost hear the sounds of the cigarettes against their fingers, one by one. The screams of terrified girls. My stomach flipped, and I held it down with one hand while I scrolled on with the other.

The process from abduction to death took some time. When a girl fitting his preference went missing, investigators knew they had about ten days to find her. They never found her, not in time. I couldn’t imagine what those girls went through. I thought of all those mothers at their homes, mourning their daughters. My chest literally ached from the pain.

I rubbed my shoulders, my throat, my head, to hold myself together. Sobs welled up. I began to shake violently. Panic fed the fire as my mind demanded that my body settle down. My room was only twenty feet from Nicholas. I couldn’t have a mental breakdown. I buried my face in my pillow and wept.

I might have passed out from lack of oxygen, or maybe my body shut down to stop the attack. Either way, I woke six hours later to the smell of coffee. My hands trembled more than usual. It’d been hours since I’d had any coffee.
Hours
. I hadn’t slept that long, ever.

Everything had changed.

It didn’t take me any time to remember where I was and what was happening. That used to happen after a move. I’d wake up in a new bedroom and feel completely disoriented. I’d grown accustomed to new rooms over time.

I sat on the edge of the bed and ran my fingers through my hair. My hands trembled. I rubbed them heavily against my thighs. It didn’t help. Hopefully the addiction could be eradicated if I started sleeping again.

I stood and shook my wrists at my sides before heading toward the kitchen. The bedroom door creaked. Scents of deliciousness drifted down the little hallway. Plates and cups clanked in the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you ate.” He looked uncomfortable.

The island was covered in food: fruits, scrambled eggs, and giant muffins. I walked past them to the coffee. I had to stop trembling before he noticed.

“Elle, are you okay? Did something upset you?” He was beside me in an instant, easily reaching the mug I stretched toward. Nicholas took my hands in his and looked at them. He rubbed them vigorously between his, folded them, and pulled them to his chest. The look on his face disarmed me. He was afraid of something.

“I’m fine.” I pulled my hands free and turned to hide my embarrassment.

“Your hands.” He popped back into view, waiting.

“I have a caffeine addiction. You know that.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I sipped the coffee and took a seat at the island.

“Caffeine?”

“I told you,” my voice was soft, “I don’t sleep well. I haven’t for … I don’t know. Forever. I consume way too much caffeine to stay awake all day. That has its own consequences. At home, I had pills to help, and a treadmill.” I slid off the stool and headed away from him. I was mad that I had to have this conversation. He was perfect and I was a freak. He might as well know up front.

“Where’re you going?” He spun on his heels and moved behind me.

“To change. I’m going to run before I get ready for school. Running helps.” I shut the door in his face and pressed my back against it. Then I dressed quickly and sucked the rest of the coffee down, burning my throat as it went. I stopped in the bathroom to brush my teeth and pull my hair into a ponytail. I pressed a cold rag against my eyes to help with the puffiness. This was my new start. No more playing the victim. Time to take control of my life.

Back in my room, I grabbed my phone and set up my playlist. Then I walked straight out the front door without a word. I was sure he was watching, wherever he was.

Around back, I crossed the yard under the pergola and stopped to stretch on the riverbank. I locked my fingers under the toes of my shoes and felt the burn in my legs and back. I moved from side to side, recreating the stretch for each leg. Then, from a topsy-turvy vantage, I saw him appear.

Nicholas was dressed similar to myself, standing near the fire pit, waiting. I stopped mid-stretch. His body looked even more athletic in running pants and an oversized
Marines
hoodie. He had a black knit cap pulled over both ears and his nose was red.

The blood pooled in my forehead. Remembering I wasn’t in a very favorable position, I stood upright too quickly. The movement caused me to falter backwards and land against the grassy hill behind me.

“Whoa!” He closed the distance in three long strides. “Are you okay?”

“No.” My ego was fatally wounded. First, I had spent an eternity with my bottom in the air staring at him. Then I fell down. I was nothing but sexy.
Ugh
.

He pulled me up by my elbow. He smiled.

I grimaced. “Why’s your face red?”

“You said you were going running.” He looked confused.

“So?”

“I ran ahead about a half mile to check things out. It’s fine. You’re good.”

“You ran a mile while I changed clothes?”

Jeez
.

He smiled that smile that knocked the wind out of me.

“Shut up.”

He’d heard the awe in my voice and gloated. I calculated his time. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes.

I ran along the riverbank until he stopped me. I’d been focused on the music, trying to ignore the articles about the Reaper I’d read the night before. Trying not to think about him jogging along behind me. At the half-mile point, he insisted I head back. My run was abbreviated, but my blood pumped hard. I turned like he asked, rejuvenated, ready to face the day.

The morning air beat cool and crisp off the river. Fall in Ohio was like being stuck inside a painting. The leaves left hanging in the trees were every shade from gold to purple. The fallen ones crunched under my shoes as I ran. The smell of autumn in the air made me smile. Fall had always been my favorite. I had a hard time accepting danger in such a beautiful world. My immediate surroundings resembled a storybook. With a monster lurking nearby, maybe I was Little Red Riding Hood.

Two bottles of water waited on the pergola. I grabbed one and pulled out my earbuds, ready to talk. It looked as if he’d been waiting for that.

“You slept last night. Did you dream?”

“No.”

“No?” He looked relieved. “Good. I thought I’d have to hide your laptop.”

A giggle burst from my lips.

His face was stern.

“I wanted to know who was after her. Do you blame me? Anyway, the research didn’t give me nightmares.” I sipped the cool water. The contrast caused a new burn in my throat. It took a few minutes to get my body temperature back to normal after the run.

“Well, now you know, but you can’t dwell and make yourself unhappy. She’s already gone. You have to focus on getting yourself through this emotionally.”

I’d never seen him look so vulnerable, sad.

“I’ll do everything else.”

“We need to get this guy.”

Nicholas smiled. “Yes.”

“I searched for hours and I’m no clearer about one thing. I don’t understand. Why her?”

His eyebrows crunched together. Clearly he didn’t understand my question, but I didn’t have a better way to articulate it.

I tried repetition for clarity. “Why her? Why Pixie?”

“Pixie?” He let out a whole chestful of air. He’d apparently stopped breathing at some point.

“Yes, Pixie. Who do you think I’m talking about? Is this a game? What’s happening? I swear, sometimes I feel like we’re having two separate conversations. This isn’t the first time.”

“This isn’t a game. I’m sorry. You confused me for a second. This situation has moved beyond complicated to insane. I promise you, I’m not trying to be coy or difficult.”

I softened for a moment at his sincerity. It didn’t last.

“The answer to what you asked is classified.”

I threw my arms into the air and jogged up to the house.
Classified.
Pft. I stomped through the house then took my time in the shower so he’d have to rush to get ready on time. I refused to care that he’d have to take a short shower. Maybe a cold one. Soaking under the streaming hot water loosened the knotted frustration in my back and shoulders. I stepped out in a better mood than when I got in. Steam hung thick in the air. I wrung the water from my hair and rubbed a strip on the mirror so I could see.

I took my time combing out my tangles and brushing my teeth, but even I couldn’t put on makeup in the steamy conditions. I headed back to my room wrapped in a giant white towel made in heaven. Nicholas waited in the hall.

“Elle!” He threw his hand up to cover his face. “What took you so long?” His fingers widened over his eyes. “You were in there forever. I expected you to come out ready to leave. Where’s your uniform?”

“In my room. I see you peeking.” I wanted to stay mad at him, but disarming the tough guy was fun. Before he got past the towel to see I had no makeup on and my hair sopped over my shoulders, I moved on. “Excuse me.” I brushed past him and headed down the tiny hallway. When I grabbed the bedroom doorknob, I spun around.

His eyes widened and his cheeks darkened. Let him think about that in the shower.

My uniform took two minutes to put on and so did my makeup. My hair was another story. He hadn’t thought to grab my blow dryer, and he didn’t have one. I twisted my hair up and secured it with pins I fished out of the bottom of my bag. Then I packed up and waited on my bed until the bathroom door opened.

“Clothes.” He motioned with his hands to his ensemble. He shook his head and walked toward the kitchen. When I got there, he handed me an apple and took my bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder and put a bottle of water in my free hand. He poured himself a mug of coffee.

I made a point of staring at the coffee. I imagined he thought coffee wasn’t good for me. “I had a cold shower.” He held the cup near his cheek as if it could warm him. I poured my own to-go cup.

We walked to the SUV in silence. The interior felt strange. I’d accepted a Jeep as his vehicle. It fit. The SUV reminded me of the reason for the Jeep’s replacement. I played around with the inside temperature while we drove.

“Are you ready for this?” It was the same thing Pixie had asked me on my first day at Francine Frances. It seemed like years ago instead of a couple of months.

“Absolutely, Brian.” I nodded, looking straight ahead. Remembering to call him that worried me. Truth be told, remembering my own name might prove difficult. Not the senior year I had expected.