The Serial Killer's Wife (12 page)

“I don’t even want to consider the possibility.”
 

“But you have to.”
 

Elizabeth forced herself to take a deep breath. “Don’t you think I know that already? Don’t you think I’ve been thinking about it for the past eight hours?”
 

She turned away from him, started toward the couch—the same pull-out couch that had once been her bed—but then redirected herself toward the window overlooking the street. She stood there, her arms crossed, staring out through the blinds. She remembered staring out them years ago, knowing that while she was in this building she was safe, that nothing out there on the street or in the city or even in the entire world could hurt her.
 

Van came to stand beside her. When he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper.
 

“You have to accept the fact that Cain does not plan on returning Matthew. Most likely he’s going to kill him and you, and now your boyfriend, too.”
 

“You don’t know that.”
 

“But I do know that, and so do you. And once you understand it and accept it, then you’ll have an advantage over him. Right now he thinks you’re a woman who has everything to lose, but in actuality that’s not the case.”
 

She turned her head just slightly, frowned at his shoes. “Are you insane? I’m not gambling my son’s life away.”
 

“But don’t you get it? You don’t have a choice. Right now Cain wants something, and to get to that something he needs you.
You
, Elizabeth, you have the power.”
 

There was a knock at the door.
 

Van turned slightly, called, “Come in,” and in came first Harlan, then Todd.
 

“Is everything all right?” Todd asked.
 

Van said, “Harlan, why don’t you take the boyfriend here and get us all some food. Grab us some pies and some cheese steaks from Gino’s.”
 

“I’m not leaving Elizabeth,” Todd said.
 

Van smiled again, only this time it was without mirth. “That’s very noble of you, but right now we’re not in your house, you’re in mine.”
 

Elizabeth watched a shadow of fear cross Todd’s face. He lowered his head, nodded, and turned toward the door.
 

After Todd and Harlan left, Van said, “Not much of a backbone.”
 

“He’s a great guy. He shouldn’t be here right now.”
 

“Neither should you.”
 

“What does that mean?”
 

“Just how the hell was this guy able to track you down? I’m assuming of course you did as I told you and never contacted anybody from your old life.”
 

She hesitated only a moment before saying, “Of course I didn’t.”
 

“Right.”
 

They stood there then in silence, staring out the window at the street below, that safety Elizabeth had once felt in this room now completely gone.

CHAPTER 24

H
ARLAN
AND
TODD
returned with food twenty minutes later, Harlan carrying two pizza boxes, Todd with a large brown paper bag.
 

Todd set the bag down on the table, pulled out a Styrofoam container. “I got you onion rings. I know how you like them.”
 

Elizabeth felt a familiar pang in her chest at his thoughtfulness, even at a time like this. Their first date hadn’t been at a fancy restaurant but at a pizzeria, not Todd’s idea but hers because ... well, she couldn’t remember the reason anymore. They’d ordered a pizza, she had ordered onion rings, and when the rings arrived Todd had crinkled his nose.
 

“What’s wrong?” she had asked.
 

“Onion rings. I’m sorry, but they’re just so disgusting.”
 

“Oh really. And have you ever even tried one?”
 

He had tilted his head from side to side, shrugged, and admitted he hadn’t.
 

“You’re like my son,” she said. “He doesn’t like to try new things either.”
 

“Well,” Todd said, reaching toward the basket, “I can’t let you think I’m not open to new things, can I?”
 

Now, less than six months later, Todd forced a smile at her as he pulled two cheese steaks from the bag. Harlan set the pizzas down next to the container on the table, then turned to her.
 

“Where is Mr. Riley?”
 

“Back in his office, I think. You know him—all business, all the time.”
 

Harlan said, “Well then, I will leave you alone to enjoy your meal,” and left without another word.
 

When the door closed, Todd said, “That guy weirds me out.”
 

“Who—Harlan? He’s harmless.”
 

“I don’t know. Something tells me he could probably kill me with his pinkie.”
 

Elizabeth came away from the window, met him at the table. “Not with his pinkie. His index finger, though ...” She forced a smile that quickly faded. “I’m sorry.”
 

“For what?”
 

“All of this. Getting you into this mess.”
 

“It’s my fault. I should have just gone home and watched
SportsCenter
.” He forced a smile of his own. “I hate to admit it, but I’m starving.”
 

They opened the food. Two large pizzas, one with pepperoni, one with extra cheese, two cheese steaks, and the onion rings.
 

Elizabeth took a bite of an onion ring, widened her eyes. “Hot,” she said. Then, “You want one?”
 

“No thanks.”
 

“Oh, come on.”
 

“Hey, I tried it that one time, didn’t I?”
 

“Yes, because I guilted you into it.”
 

“Well, you’re a woman. Guilting men into doing stuff they don’t want to do is what you’re good at.”
 

A slight grin played on his face, and Elizabeth found herself grinning, too. It felt good to produce a smile that wasn’t forced, to find some joy, no matter how small, in this situation. But then, just as quickly, their grins faded when they remembered where they were and why they were here and where they needed to go next.
 

Todd said, “So.”
 

“So.”
 

He looked around the room again. “You, what, lived here once?”
 

“For a while, yes.”
 

“What did you do? I mean, as a job.”
 

“I tended the bar.”
 

“Seriously? Like mixing drinks and stuff?”
 

She nodded.
 

“Huh,” Todd said. “I never would have pictured that.”
 

Elizabeth didn’t say anything, letting the silence remind him there was a lot he would probably have a hard time picture her doing.
 

Todd turned to the table, grabbed a slice, held it for a moment before setting it back down.
 

“So this guy, Donovan Riley, he’s what—a drug dealer or something?”
 

“Not quite. He doesn’t deal drugs. In fact, he detests drugs.”
 

“But he’s, like, connected somehow, right?”
 

“Honestly, it’s best if you don’t even think about it.”
 

Not thinking about it, though, was something Todd couldn’t do. She knew that, just as she couldn’t stop thinking about this place herself. How she had lived here and worked here and then, with thoughts of killing her son swarming in her head, had begun cutting herself here. She thought she could even feel the scars now, almost tingling, as if they too sensed this place was where they had been born.
 

Todd turned away, picked up his slice again.
 

Elizabeth watched him, thinking about her scars and why she hadn’t let her intimacy with Todd continue more than it had. They had kissed, yes, had even made out several times, but every time Todd tried taking it to the next level, she always pushed him away. She couldn’t explain why—telling him about the scars would then prompt even more questions, like where they had come from and what brought them on—and she was certain he wasn’t going to put up with it much longer. But, surprisingly, he had remained patient with her, and that made her care for him even more.
 

She opened her mouth, wanting to tell Todd something (what, she wasn’t even sure), when the door opened.

“Look at you two,” Van said as he approached them, carrying two books, “you couldn’t even wait for your host before you started filling your faces.”
 

Elizabeth said, “Hey, you snooze, you lose.”
 

Van opened a pizza box. “Ah, extra cheese. My favorite.”
 

Another thing she had forgotten about Donovan Riley—he was a pseudo-vegetarian.
 

“Are those what I think they are?” she asked, meaning the books in his hand.
 

“Yep.” Van pulled up a chair, placed the books on the table, grabbed himself a slice. “I figured you might want to catch up on some light reading.”
 

Todd craned his head to read the titles. “
Never Coming Home: The Edward Piccioni Murders
and
The Widower Maker
.” He glanced at Elizabeth, frowning, then back at the books. “Wait. Isn’t that one by—”
 

“You guessed it,” Van said, chewing his slice. “The one and only Clarence Applegate.”
 

Elizabeth sighed, shaking her head.
 

Van said, “Elizabeth here isn’t much of a Clarence Applegate fan. The truth is, the guy is a god-awful writer. He thought of himself as the next Ann Rule but he didn’t even come close. Of course, now he keeps that blog of his, and has thousands and thousands of followers on Twitter. He does for serial killers what Perez Hilton does for celebrities.”
 

There was a long silence. Elizabeth sat very still, staring down at her plate. She didn’t want to think about Clarence Applegate, about the book he had written and the crusade he had taken to try to track her down.
 

Van took a large bite of his slice, chewed loudly (another thing she had forgotten), and said, “This is the best pizza you’ll find in the city, hands down.” Then said, “Hey, Todd, you curious to know what Elizabeth was like when she worked here? Well, have I got some stories for you.”

CHAPTER 25

I
T
FELT
WRONG
,
it really did, the three of them sitting around the table eating pizza and laughing, like this was poker night and her son wasn’t held captive by a madman, a bomb strapped around his neck.
 

But there they were, laughing despite themselves, Todd the loudest of the bunch, Van telling stories about Elizabeth when she worked here, the kind of trouble she caused.
 

“I swear it’s true,” Van said, taking a swig of bottled water (he was a steadfast teetotaler), “she kneed him right in the balls.”
 

Elizabeth couldn’t help herself, she was laughing, too, though it was a kind of embarrassed laugh.
 

Todd raised a Miller Lite bottle to his lips, paused, gave her a look. “In the balls?”
 

She gave an innocent smile, shrugged.
 

Van said, still laughing, “I wish I had it on video. This fight starts up by the pool tables, all my guys go over there to break it up, and this guy—this greasy skinny brother—starts flirting with E. Guess he sees his chance, that nobody’s watching, so as she’s trying to make her way back to the bar he keeps stepping in her way, trying to talk to her. E, she’s being professional about it, just trying to do her job.” He glanced at her. “All true so far, yes?”
 

Elizabeth, now taking a sip of her Diet Coke, only gave a slight nod.
 

“Right, so he keeps trying to talk to her but she keeps trying to walk around him, until this guy, he starts to get angry. He says something to her, something rude, and he grabs her arm. E’s holding her tray at this point, has glasses and bottles stacked on top, but she doesn’t lose her cool. Remember what you told him, E?”
 

She stared down at her plate. The laughter—at least her laughter—had all of a sudden vanished. It had been a nice reprieve, a couple of minutes to actually feel some joy, but now reality was shoving itself back in her face, reminding her of what was at stake.
 

“Elizabeth?” Van said, and the smile was gone from his face, the light from his eyes, his voice worried. “You okay?”
 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”
 

“Do you remember what you said to that guy?”
 

She said, “I told him if he ever wanted to walk right again, he should remove his hand.”
 

Van snapped his fingers. “Hell yes, you did. And this guy, he doesn’t believe her, thinks she’s just this helpless white girl working in a big bad black bar. So he keeps his hand on her arm, starts to say something else to her, and E here, she doesn’t hesitate.”
 

Todd, a look of awe in his eyes, turned to her. “You’re kidding me. You really did that?”
 

Again she shrugged, though the innocent smile she’d given before was now gone.