Psychological Thriller Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  I don’t know how to say this. I don’t want to. For some reason, putting it down in black and white makes it feel so real, so final. I saw Peter walking along the street with his arm around the shoulders of a tiny brunette. My God, at first glance, I thought she was a child! A prepubescent teenager in the least. She was young. Younger than me. Pretty from afar. You know the type, va va voom figure, curvy but not stalky. Hair for miles. I froze in the street like a stop sign. My heart thumped wildly in my ears, eating away the sound of the traffic. The people bustling around me melted away like snow. At first, I thought this is simply a colleague. Someone from dental school perhaps? But then, his hand slipped down to the small of her back. So very intimate, and I knew.

  All of my dark suspicions had been realized in that moment. I have never felt good enough for Peter. Not pretty enough, certainly not smart enough, not enough as a whole.

  What had gone wrong? If I was lacking in bed, one would think he would have the decency to let me in on it and then teach me what he wanted. How had this become our life? I followed them a half a block before they ducked into the Grand Regency, and I couldn’t breathe. My feet stalled again like a car with a bad engine. A part of me wanted to run in screaming. A part of me was over it, done with Peter altogether. But the very reason I came to Manhattan to begin with was nestled deep inside of me. I was going to surprise Peter with our big news. And it was me who was left speechless.

  Surprise!

  “Ree?” Bram calls from the hall, and I’m quick to close the book and bury it in its tomb beneath a pile of sweaters. I step into my heels, trot out to the mirror, and inspect my black cocktail dress, my simple string of pearls.

  He steps in, his cologne permeating the space between us before he ever arrives, and then there he is, a sports coat, dark inky jeans, those gorgeous low-cut boots I bought him for Christmas. His hair is still glossed from the shower, slicked back, his face peppered with dark stubble the way I love it, and it makes his eyes glow ten times brighter. Bram is a vision, and yet my heart sinks at the sight of him.

  “I’m ready.” I snap my clutch off the dresser, and we head out the door together.

  * * *

  The fundraiser that the Blue Chandelier is putting on is being held on the waterfront. The boardwalk has been transformed with miles of tables that hold items for a silent auction, and the people of Percy Bay have come out in number to help with the cause. It’s a family event, so there are plenty of kids here, all neatly compartmentalized in a large grassy field with a bounce house and games they can play for free. Mila, Tessa’s oldest daughter, a junior in high school, offers to keep an eye on them for me while Bram and I head for the auction site.

  I spot Lena in her chef’s garb, her face intent as she listens to a few women from the PTA while passing out canapés from the tray she’s holding.

  “Can you believe this is the new us?” Bram lands a warm kiss just under my ear and, instinctually, I turn my head without meaning to.

  “Yes,” it comes out less than a whisper as I take in the briny air. A cool breeze is blowing steadily, and I’m thankful I decided to put my hair up for the evening. Everywhere you look women are struggling to shake their tresses out of their eyes. But my heart and my head are far away from the boardwalk. I look to Bram and force a tight smile, taking up his hand as we head into the thick of Percy’s precarious social circles.

  A part of me screams, tell him about the shitty emails, tell him about the diary, for God’s sake. It’s only going to get worse as time passes, and yet another part of me is all too aware that Bram never mentioned he and Simone were trying for another baby. He never mentioned that he was anything but faithful to her.

  “I was thinking—” I bite down on my lip, and Bram whisks us behind a tent that’s housing handmade crafts as it swarms with women.

  His arms wrap around my waist, and an easy smile glides over his lips.

  “What’s wrong?” His brows dip a moment. “I know you like I know myself. Something has thrown you. Let me in, Ree.” He dots a kiss over my lips. “I want to see the world through your eyes.”

  My stomach melts right down to my feet, and I soften in his warm embrace, my lips twitching toward the sky. This is Bram. Peter is gone. Peter and Simone are gone. They are no more. And yet a part of me can’t seem to forgive him for a slight that was never toward me. A horrible thought slaps through me, and my body stiffens once again. Bram was out of town—at a convention just a few days ago. Certainly an opportunity. What if this brunette is still hanging around on the periphery of his life? For a moment, I picture the two of them laughing at me while she obliges him with blowjobs. The entire idea is ridiculous, and yet it has me fuming.

  I suck in my bottom lip, trying to look seductive while hiding the fear rising in me. I had never thought Simone and I had a thing in common outside our shared husband—not that Bram and I are legally wed, but that’s another horror I don’t want to digest at the moment. But after reading her journals, really getting to know her on an intimate level, we not only share similar careers—okay, her career, my hobby, but we share the same insecurities.

  “Did you ever think about having more children?” My God, is that the best I could do?

  Bram tips his head back, and a quick laugh bounces through him. “Is that what this is all about?” He swoops in with another kiss, his features growing serious—so morbidly handsome it frightens me. “Aubree,” he whispers my name like a secret. “Yes. If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”

  “We can’t afford it,” I say, stunned that he went straight for the gold. Certainly not the turn I was expecting, but then, I walked him right into it.

  “We will be fine.” He shakes his head sweetly before brushing a loose wisp of hair that’s lying over my forehead. “And we can start tonight.” There’s an ache in his voice, a tenderness I can’t deny. Bram is intent on making me feel better, pulling me out of the funk I’m in. The funk he thinks my urge to have a child put me in, and ironically it was his ex-wife who landed me neck deep. “Baby making.” He gives a dark gurgle of a laugh, and those comma-like dimples go off that I love so much.

  “Baby making,” I parrot back, playing along. In truth, I’m not sure I’m up for a third just yet, but I love the fact that Bram is so keen on the idea that I might just let him sway me with his enthusiasm.

  We head back out to the crowd, and a group of men shout for him over by the wine tasting booth.

  “Ah! Work never ends.” He winks my way. Bram leads us over and introduces me to his colleagues. I’ve met two before but not the entire herd. They’re all affable looking men, around the same age as Bram, some a bit older. Tarquin is technically his boss, the owner of Smile Wide. He wears a halo of gray and holds a rounded belly compared to the much more fit group that surrounds him. Bram is the most handsome of them all, but then, I am bias. After a brief introduction, the shorter one, Rich, with a head of hair that’s been reduced to stubbles, tips his beer Bram’s way.

  “Tell us about Hennessy. Geez. Was that nuts? Did you hear or see anything suspicious?”

  Bram shoots a quick glance my way, his eyes oscillate a moment as if he weren’t sure what direction to look in next as he takes a deep breath, and suddenly, my attention is aroused.

  “What happened?” I give his hand a quick tug.

  Bram winces my way, something about that half-wink, that grimace sets my teeth on edge.

  Tarquin cuts his hand through the air. “He’s talking about the body. Sorry. It’s not pleasant conversation.” He nods to Rich as if to say knock it off. The conversation quickly morphs into shoptalk, and I spot Lena out by the edge of the pier and excuse myself.

  Body? My God, why wouldn’t Bram have mentioned a body? I mean, that’s pretty serious, right? A twinge of guilt coats me. It’s not as if I’ve been forthcoming with everything lately myself. And in his defense, he probably didn’t want to upset me.

  I bump into Lena and steal a cracker loaded with someth
ing creamy from off her tray and indulge angrily as I swallow it down all but whole. I can’t help but feel as if I’m drowning, and I inwardly cringe at the analogy. Those are words I’ve been careful never to utter to Bram. It hasn’t been easy. It’s a euphemism I used to spill as easy as water. There I go again. Only this time I’m a little angry with him, so I don’t mind doing it.

  “Someone’s in a hostile mood.” Lena tweaks her brows as if she were about to pull me under another ten feet—no air for me tonight. “What’s going on?” She nods, pointing behind me with her nose. “Those witches getting under your skin again?”

  I turn to find the trio of terror—not that Tessa is much of a terror. She actually bought me coffee after Peanut Butter Gate, and that was rather kind of her, considering she was brave enough to cavort with a food criminal.

  Bridget looks dressed to slash and thrash in a tight red dress, her long wavy hair bouncing as if it weren’t even connected to her scalp. And I can’t help but notice that Astrid looks sleek in a black and white pantsuit that seems to elongate her legs for miles. She’s donned a halter-top, brave, considering the fog is rolling in. But her bare shoulders, that deep red lipstick she’s paired it with, makes her look as if she just stepped off a runway. She turns slightly, and then we see it. Both Lena and I groan in unison.

  “My God, she is certifiable.” My sister chokes on a laugh.

  “You took the words right out of my mouth.” Only I would have been a touch cruder.

  Cradled in Astrid’s arms is that glossy feathered cock of hers, pecking at her chest as if it were thirsty for something she had to offer.

  Lena clicks her tongue. “Ten bucks says she lets the thing suck on her tits when no one is looking.”

  “Lena!” I swat her and share a dark laugh with my sister. Just past them Astrid’s husband, Miles, stands with Bridget’s husband, Jude, and the two of them look as if they’re immersed in a heavy conversation. Every now and again, they turn to look solemnly at their wives. Most likely contemplating how they managed to steal their balls. Speaking of husbands with no balls. “You know that convention Bram went to last week? Apparently, there was a body,” I say without the slightest knowledge of any other detail.

  “Yes.” Her pale eyes pin to mine. “And did you hear how they found the body?”

  A rush of adrenaline hits me for no reason, an uncalled for pinprick of panic that dislodges my senses for a moment. “No. How?”

  “A wire wrapped around her neck reducing it to the size of a thimble.”

  I suck in a sharp breath, and I see her again, lying there on the floor of the school gymnasium.

  Lena nods. “A finger missing.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Oh my yes,” Lena muses. “There’s a serial killer running loose amongst us.” She offers a slow, circular nod. “Wait. You said Bram was at that convention? Was he at the Hennessy Convention Center?”

  My body lurches in one large detonating heartbeat. “Yes, I guess he was.”

  “Shit.” Her eyes close, and I’d swear on all that is holy the daylight around me just dimmed a notch. Lena’s eyes have always held their own brand of wattage. “You guys have the shittiest luck of anyone I know.”

  My own eyes close for a moment as my fingers clasp over my mouth. “God help us. Let’s just pray the authorities don’t connect the mismatched dots. It’s just a coincidence, that’s all.”

  “Is it really?” She takes a disbelieving step away. “I guess it boils down to how well do you know and trust your husband.”

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous. You know Bram wouldn’t hurt a fly.” I glance in his direction, and there’s a huge migration of bodies blooming between us, kids with cotton candy swirled to the sky, women strutting about, happy to have traded their winter boots for wedges. Men with their leering gazes, eyes shifting toward hemlines, flitting to the nearest décolletage. The sea of pedestrians parts and there he is, and my stomach sinks like a milestone. Gone are his cohorts in dental crime. In their place stands a hell of a cocky woman and her pet fowl writhing between them. Bram laughs openly at something she says, and that knot in my stomach tightens. Her hand rides up his arm, and I inch back at the surprise of seeing her touch him so brazenly. Bram doesn’t resist. Instead, he leans in and speaks directly to her, intently, and my mind demands I go over there and toss Astrid into the water behind her. A bath in harbor sludge should rectify the behavior.

  “Relax,” Lena says it low, far too controlled as if she were trying to hold me back emotionally, but we both know she’s failing. “It’s just a conversation.”

  “Says the girl who had me doubting him less than ten seconds ago.”

  A salted breeze whistles by, and I take in the briny air, trying to bring myself back down to earth.

  Bram takes a step in. He’s shaking his head, saying something with those serious eyes, that thoughtful tilt of the head. Then his lids lower just a notch, and I’m sick. He’s bedroom-eyeing her. My God, it can’t be. This is Bram. My Bram. I’m hallucinating the entire event. Astrid’s dolt of a husband joins the party, and the two of them break apart like a couple of naughty teenagers caught making out in the closet. Sickening. My entire body bucks in disbelief.

  Lena steps in and effectively blocks my view with her body. “Have you had any more of those strange emails?” She shakes her head as if the answer should be no. I’ve already told her about the two.

  “No. Thank God.”

  “Who do you think is sending them?”

  “My guess is the cocky one who thinks it’s fine to flirt with my husband out in the open.”

  “That may be so, but I just so happened to receive my own unexpected email from someone this afternoon, and I thought you should read it.” Her eyes linger over mine for a moment too long before she fishes her phone out of her pocket and pulls the email up for me to see.

  My eyes gloss over the words in a hurry, trying to discern the danger my sister might be in, and my heart ceases beating altogether. A breath hitches in my throat.

  “No,” it’s all I can manage. My blood pressure spikes to unsafe levels. Adrenaline shoots through my veins in one violent burst. “This can’t be happening. This will not happen.”

  Lena pulls the phone to her chest before I can snatch it from her and toss it into the water. Her eyes set to mine with a fire in them that I have never seen.

  “It is and it will.”

  Bram

  All the way home Ree is angry. I wait until we shuffle the kids to their rooms to get ready for bed before I corner my wife in our bedroom.

  Ree flicks off her shoes wildly, and I’m alarmed on every level. For as long as I’ve known my sweet wife, she has been just that, sweet. And, believe me, it held great appeal to me, especially after the war I had fought with Simone. Ree was the proverbial drink of water that this thirsty man had longed for in so many ways.

  She darts for the closet, and I grab her by the elbow, spinning her into me as if we were doing some exotic heated dance. Her elbows butt up against my chest, holding a firm distance between us.

  “What’s going on?” I temper my voice, pull it down a few notches, soft and soothing, hoping she’ll come along for the ride. I’ve never been one to read women well. My understanding of the opposite sex has always been limited to the here and now, the black and the white. I am colorblind when we drift into the gray zone, and if I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s that women mostly live in the gray zone. “Did someone say something to upset you? Was it those women again?”

  She lets out a vitriolic huff as if I should know better, as if to say how dare I suggest it, and I can feel my neck growing hot because I can’t stand the suspense. Ree doesn’t get mad. So if she’s pissed, this must be big.

  “It was my sister.” She yanks free from my hold and takes a full step back. “My mother contacted her. She’ll be in town next weekend.”

  “Your mother?” I mouth the words. I have never dared bring her up first. The o
nly conversations we’ve had about that certifiable nutcase have been initiated by Ree herself, and I can count those on one hand and have a healthy amount of fingers left over.

  “Yes. The beast who bore me. And get this.” She hikes an arm in the air, flailing to the ceiling, and I catch the glint of tears in her eyes. “She’s staying with Lena! Fucking Lena!” Her voice screeches to new heights, and I wrap my arm around her again and whisk us into the bathroom to dampen her fury from the children’s prying ears.

  “Shit,” it’s all I can say. The only thing that comes to mind when I think of that woman and what she’s done to Ree—to Lena, too, and that’s what makes this entire scenario somewhat unbelievable.

  “Yes, shit,” she barks it out with rage. Ree averts her eyes a moment before deflating. “It turns out, Lena has been in communication with her for the last few months. Nothing serious. Just a tap here. A how do you do there. And all this time, I thought Lena was on my side—our side. Hell, I didn’t know I was on a damned island.” Her voice grows threadbare as if she were about to cry.