Confessions From the Dark

by T. B. Markinson

  “That’s an odd book for Mother’s Day,” Mom said with a pinched face.

  I shook my head. “I can’t picture her going to these lengths, though. She barely paid attention to me when we attended the same school—let alone when we dated.”

  “I’ll check her out just in case. Who else was at the event?” Floyd tapped the side of his head, indicating I should dig deep.

  “Hundreds of people showed up. Where would I even start?” I drummed my fingers on top of my head.

  “Where was this?” Floyd clicked his pen.

  Harold rattled off the name of the bookstore.

  Floyd met my eyes. “Did anyone ask any off-the-wall questions? Approach you, before or after?”

  “After the talk, lots of people wanted photos, and we signed books. More people requested photos then. There were so many the line went out the door.”

  “Did anyone stand out? Besides Vanessa?” He waved his hand in an attempt to stoke a memory.

  “She left before the event started.” I closed my eyes to concentrate.

  “What about that one woman—the one you bumped into in the bathroom?” Mom snapped her fingers.

  “Her? You’ve got to be kidding.” I pooh-poohed the idea with a swat of my hand.

  “Why?” Mom crossed her arms. “She was really interested in you.”

  “Everyone there was a fan. That’s why we hold these events.”

  “But she didn’t even have a copy of any of my novels. Only yours.”

  “So? That means she’s a fucking stalker, because she’s not one of your fans? That’s low, even for you.”

  “Of course not!” Mom scoffed.

  Harold snapped his fingers. “She’s that blogger who rushed to Cori’s defense when G-Dawg—”

  “Who’s G-Dawg?” Floyd motioned for us to slow down and tell him everything.

  “G-Dawg is the blogger who tried to set me up.” I scrunched my face.

  “Tell me more.” Floyd sat up in his chair, pen ready.

  Harold filled him in on the details.

  “Wait. Didn’t Roger contact you months ago about G-Dawg?” Barbara asked.

  Floyd shook his head slowly, as if understanding his answer would upset Barb while also implicating Roger. Had Roger guessed G-Dawg’s identity, but he didn’t want any of us to know? And he was the one who’d suggested we focus on G-Dawg. Knowing how protective he’d been all my life, Roger probably thought he could control the situation without looping Floyd in.

  “Okay, G-Dawg tried to set up Cori, but it didn’t catch fire,” Floyd said, avoiding Barb’s eyes, clearly not wanting to open the Roger can of worms at the moment.

  “Roger said you would handle it.” Barb fiddled with her purse strap, not able to put the Roger bit to bed, so to speak.

  “Who’s the other blogger?” Floyd once again didn’t bother zeroing in on the Roger aspect.

  “One blogger, In the Shadows, gushed about Cori and her writing,” Harold said.

  “In the Shadows?” Floyd asked.

  “That’s her screen name,” Harold said. “Cori has a podcast with her next month.”

  “How’d that happen?” Floyd asked.

  Harold filled him in.

  “Um, consider the booking canceled.” I crossed my arms. “If this Shadows person is the one stalking me, one of us won’t be alive next month.”

  Floyd frowned and motioned for me to pipe down. “And this blogger, showed up at the book signing on Mother’s Day asking to do a podcast?”

  “No, there was more,” Mom pushed. “You’re forgetting the bathroom.”

  “The bathroom?” Floyd and Kat parroted.

  “Before I do public speaking events, I kinda freak out. I went to the bathroom to calm my nerves. A woman found me in there and talked me off the ledge. She was kind and supportive, nothing like the fucker on the video.”

  Mom huffed. “Later, during the signing, she cozied up to Cori like they were best buddies. What was it she said when you asked how you should sign her name?” Mom’s eyes blazed.

  I swallowed.

  Every single person in the room waited for my answer.

  “She said I should address it to my new bff.”

  ***

  Floyd hotfooted out of the room to confer with his team, and I parked my ass on the windowsill, away from everyone, ruing the day I had decided to become a novelist. Maybe I should have stayed at Beantown Café, out of the public eye.

  Mom and Barb whispered behind their hands. Dad stared off into space, and Harold had his eyes closed.

  Kat motioned for me to make room on the ledge. “You okay?”

  Before I could respond, Floyd returned gripping a paper. He gathered us around the table and laid a photo down for all to see. “Does she look familiar?” It was a photo of the woman from the bathroom while I signed her book.

  Kat’s hand shot up to cover her mouth, and we all craned our necks to give the photograph our full attention.

  “Gertrude—she’s in one of my painting classes.” Kat swiveled to me. “Do you remember when I mentioned a woman in my class I wanted to fix Harold up with?”

  “You were going to set me up with a girl named Gertrude?” Harold ignored the fact that the woman was stalking me. He hovered over the grainy photo. “Not bad. I would have dated her.”

  I glared at him. He shrugged.

  “Why didn’t I notice her at the signing?” Kat rubbed her chin.

  “She had a scarf that covered her face. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Also, you and Barb left early.”

  Kat closed her eyes, shaking her head.

  “I don’t understand why she sought you out in the first place. If she’s obsessed with me, why take a painting class with you?”

  Floyd sat in one of the chairs around the conference table and steepled his fingers under his chin. Could the man only think while sitting? “My guess would be she wanted to surround herself with people who knew you. In the video, she said she initially thought staying on the periphery would suffice.”

  Floyd shifted his beady eyes to Kat. “How long have you two been friends?”

  Kat closed her eyes. I could see her mentally counting the days. “Over a year now. Do you mean that right from the start I was a pawn for her to get close to Cori?” She furrowed her brow. “She was so nice, so supportive. A friend when I really needed one.”

  “Yes,” Floyd said softly, although his face didn’t divulge any additional information.

  Barbara consoled Kat.

  “G-Dawg,” Harold said.

  Every head turned to him, as if we all expected him to say, “Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “G-Dawg… Is Gertrude G-Dawg?” Harold asked.

  “That could make sense. Perhaps she started the controversy with one profile so she could swoop in with a different identity and rescue Cori.” Floyd rubbed his chin.

  “Like a knight rescuing a princess.” Kat’s wan smile tore at my insides.

  “But the social media fiasco ended before it really had a chance to start. Why?” Mom demanded.

  “Roger,” Barb said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Roger told all of us that he’d recruited Floyd’s help. But what if Gertrude had weaseled her way into Roger’s life, too, not just Kat’s?” Barbara left the rest unsaid.

  The look of anger on Barb’s face, and my mom’s supportive hand on her back, confirmed one thing: Gertrude and Roger had been close, probably lovers. This woman had been chasing me, through my family, for months, and I’d had no idea she even existed.

  “In the Shadows referred to being in Cori’s shadow. When the G-Dawg thing went down, we thought it was a reference to Cori being in Nell’s shadow—we had no idea it meant someone was watching Cori from the shadows.” Barb shuddered. “For how long?”

  “I think I’m going to be
sick.” I sprinted toward the bathroom.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I don’t like this. I don’t like it one bit.” Mom paced my front room.

  Floyd, along with the police, hustled around the entire house, setting up the equipment.

  “I’ll be fine. I promise.” I stepped into Mom’s path and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. “I want to do this. I need to do this.”

  “But—”

  Kat raised a reassuring hand. “She’s Super Jock.”

  “What?” Barb screeched.

  I grinned at Kat and jabbed a thumb at my chest. “That’s right; I’m Super Jock.”

  “Don’t get too cocky. Super Jock’s kryptonite is her temper. Can you control your emotions enough to reel this bitch in?” Kat narrowed her eyes.

  “I promise not to lose my shit.”

  “Seriously. You have to stay in control.” Kat’s eyes bored into mine.

  “Bring me a bible. I’ll swear on it.”

  “You aren’t religious.”

  “Okay, I swear on my honor.”

  “I’ve seen the photos. Your honor has been completely blown out of proportion,” Mom jeered.

  Floyd cleared his throat. “Okay. This place is wired. There are more cameras than you can shake a stick at, so don’t worry about trying to get her to face a certain way or to speak louder. Just act natural. Even the smallest confession will go a long way.”

  I nodded. “Got it.”

  Floyd motioned it was time for everyone to scram. I gave Kat a peck on the cheek, unable to think of anything to say.

  She smiled knowingly. “Remember, she’s desperate, which makes her vulnerable. Use that brain of yours and keep your knee-jerk reactions in control, please.”

  I put both hands on her chest and shoved gently. “Go. Trust me.”

  “Please, be careful.”

  “When am I ever not careful?”

  ***

  I sat on the couch, holding a book in my hand, but all the words spun on the page. Instead, I concentrated on my breathing. In and out.

  The doorbell rang, and I glanced around the room, hoping the cameras were fully functioning. I didn’t want to have to do this a second time. And I certainly wanted to make sure the police were watching and ready to intervene if she went really nuts.

  A diminutive woman stood on my front stoop, an odd smile affixed to her face. My instincts screamed for me to punch her right in the kisser, but my promise to rein in those instincts prodded me to say, “Come in.”

  She barely resembled the woman I’d met at the signing. Today, she had on a tight shirt, fashionable jeans, makeup, and newly highlighted hair, as if she was on a first date. I might have noticed the woman who stood before me now—but never the woman in the bathroom. Was she a master of disguises?

  “Would you like something to drink?” I waited patiently for the bitch’s reply, doing my best to maintain a non-threatening pose—hard for a woman close to six feet tall who was standing next to a tiny fucker who deserved to have her teeth bashed in.

  “Water would be great.” The conniver smiled the most bashful smile I’d ever seen.

  “Ice?” I channeled Kat to play the perfect host.

  “No, thanks.”

  I ducked out of the room, focusing on the task at hand instead of threading my fingers around her pale neck. Step one: fill a glass under the water spigot of the fridge. Step two: spit in it. If only she’d asked for ice; that would have camouflaged a loogie floating in the water. I contemplated sticking my tongue in the water, but the freak would probably enjoy that, so I nixed the idea.

  My shoulders shook and my hands trembled. I looked toward the ceiling to steady my nerves. Letting out a cleansing breath, I waltzed back into the room. “Here you go.” I did my best June Cleaver impression.

  Gertrude thanked me sweetly. Don’t try, bitch. I got your number.

  We sat quietly on opposite corners of the couch, facing the front window, waiting for the other to break first. I willed myself to stay silent. Get Gertrude on her back foot.

  Gertie worried a string on the seam of her jeans. “Thanks for agreeing to meet to discuss, uh…”

  For a stalker, she was quite bashful. How did she ever work up the nerve to break into my home while we were sleeping? How often had she been creeping around?

  “It’s okay. Take your time.” My voice sounded nothing like me.

  Gertrude’s shoulders relaxed, and she took a sip of the water. “Please know I never meant to cause you any pain. The thing with Kat—”

  “What about Kat?” The woman had no business saying my wife’s name. My hackles raised, but I steadied my breathing, focusing on the big picture: a confession would get this fucking cunt out of my life permanently. I needed irrefutable proof she was fucked in the head and a danger to society.

  “Let’s talk about us—not her.” She changed gears.

  I kept my eyes on Gertrude’s face, not showing any emotion.

  “You have everything going for you.” She waved to the furnishings and bric-a-brac in my front room.

  I shifted in my seat, crossing my arms and immediately remembering Floyd telling me not to do that. Keep it friendly and non-threatening. I uncrossed my arms, trying to find a place to rest that would make it look like I was acting normal.

  “There’s only one thing missing.” Gertrude set the water glass down on a coaster on the coffee table. She placed her hands on her knees. “This doesn’t have to be messy. I believe in quick, like a Band-Aid.”

  I forced my muscles to soften. “What do you mean?”

  Gertie fiddled with the fringe of the afghan on the back of the couch. “Oh, I don’t want to say it aloud. I know it won’t be easy for you, but in time, you’ll see it’s for the best.”

  “I’m curious. How do you know? That you and I”—I waved to her and back to me—“are meant to be together?”

  “I just do,” she gushed. “I’ve been watching you from afar for so long. You always amaze me. Like how calm and collected you were at your uncle’s funeral.”

  She was at the funeral? Was nothing sacred?

  I pursed my lips, afraid my voice would betray my desire to squash her like a blood-sucking mosquito.

  Gertie’s voice recaptured my attention. “I wanted to be near you from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

  Near me? I nearly squeaked. “When was that?” My voice was thick.

  “When you spoke at an event in Philly.”

  “You’re from Philly?” My mind tried to pinpoint when I’d last been in Philly. It was for a book tour, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on which tour. My first novel or my second? Or maybe my third?

  She nodded proudly. “Never left the city until the day I followed you home.”

  Jesus, she was a sick fuck.

  Silence fell between us.

  “I’m so sorry—I never meant to hurt you.”

  I licked my lips. “Have you released the photos, then?”

  She shook her head. “Oh no. I don’t want to do that.”

  “Then how did you hurt me?” I spoke softly, fearful she’d realize I wanted her to speak for the cameras. I had no desire to hear any of the details, but proof was paramount. “You don’t seem like the type who would hurt a fly.” I tried to coax her into confessing.

  “I’m not. Not normally,” she mumbled to her folded hands in her lap.

  “Are you referring to the G-Dawg trick?” I was in control of my nerves once again.

  “I knew you’d put that piece into the puzzle. It’s hard to fool a Harvard grad.” She smiled ingratiatingly.

  It took everything I had to force the next question out of my mouth. “Why did you back off before the G-Dawg thing had a chance to take root?”

  “I was scared. Turned out I couldn’t stand people saying those things about you.”

  She seemed sincere. Maybe it wasn’t Roger who put a stop to it, aft
er all. But if so, why did Roger say he’d passed it on to Floyd? Something wasn’t adding up.

  “So you came to my defense, like a knight rescuing a princess.”

  “Yes, I did.” She beamed. “I like how you put that. When I came up with the screen name Finndale, I thought it was cute. It wasn’t until the others pounced that I realized it was too obvious or that others might assume it was you. When I crafted the name, it felt as if you and I were merging into one. I used to pretend I was Kat—that you cherished me like you do her. I want to cherish you, Cori.”

  For a moment, I thought she was going to try to touch me, and I had to will myself to stay still. I couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. She was legit batshit crazy.

  “So you stopped because too many people were being mean to me? Was that the only reason?” I couldn’t leave the Roger aspect alone. I wanted to divert her attention away from me as much as possible.

  Her gaze met mine, but she quickly glanced away. “Uh…”

  Leaning forward, I placed a finger on her thigh, swallowing the bile storming its way up my throat. “If you want us to work, we need open communication. If there’s something else, some secret, I need to know. That’s very important to me.”

  Her face relaxed.

  “Did you share the secret with anyone?”

  “Kinda.”

  “Kinda how?”

  “I can’t say.” She stared at the spot where my finger had been moments ago.

  I replaced my hand. “Why?”

  “I don’t want you to hate me.” Her hand twitched as though she wanted to reach for my finger but didn’t have the guts.

  Oh, I hate you, Gertie. I hate you more than I ever thought possible.

  “I don’t think I could ever hate you,” I said, trying to mimic Kat’s purr. “Remember in the bathroom—how you calmed me down?”

  She swiped a tear off her cheek. “How could I forget?”

  “I haven’t forgotten either.” I couldn’t force myself to follow up with a wink, even though I could almost detect Kat praying for me to from where she and the others were watching everything unfold on the screen next door. “I trusted you that night. I need you to trust me now. Relationships are a two-way street, right?”