Drawn To You: A Psychological thriller

by Ren Montgomery

  Okay, maybe she could drive it to San Francisco, leave it in the long-term parking lot at the airport, and tell the police it had been stolen…? That actually wasn’t a bad idea, but it also wasn’t practical. How would she get home?

  She pulled her hair into spikes, unable to think of a way to get rid of this stupid albatross except for temporarily.

  She thought of something and scrambled inside the car. What if she tossed the plates and rubbed out the VIN numbers the way car thieves did? That was perfect! She searched diligently for a number, and finally found one inside the door welded to the frame. She smiled. She could definitely get rid of that.

  But…how many of those things were there in a car anyway? And where were they located? She absolutely couldn’t afford to miss even one. Wait! Her owner’s manual! She opened the glove box with high hopes, but all she found inside were her new walkie talkies, and copies of her insurance and registration cards. She’d certainly meant to put the manual in there, but God knows what she’d actually done with it.

  She climbed out and slammed the door behind her as another thought occurred to her. Car thieves also pieced stolen cars out, selling parts to different body shops and junk yards to get rid of the evidence. But that required both tools and know-how, and she possessed neither.

  She kicked the side of her tire in frustration. Why hadn’t she thought to take her gun with her to Tara’s? She had experience with guns, and if she’d just shot Tara, things wouldn’t be so complicated now.

  First, she’d still have transportation, and second, guns were easy to get rid of. She could have taken a gun apart afterwards and dumped the parts into different trash cans around Calua. Or thrown it in the sea or buried it. She’d never be able to bury her entire car.

  Now, she hadn’t gone there tonight to kill Tara, but the fact that she had a loaded gun ready to go at home should have occurred to her before she ran the woman down. She could have bided her time, crafted a fool-proof plan, and then killed her, instead of following the first wild impulse that came to her. Sure, Tara might have gotten an extra week or so with Sean, but it would’ve been worth it not to be facing this crap right now.

  She needed to stop second guessing herself. It was the results that mattered, not the means you took to get there. Yes, she had killed Tara, but she really hadn’t gone over there with the intent to kill her. She sighed. Not consciously, at least.

  Not like before. She was usually a meticulous planner. This was the outlier.

  A thought surfaced in her mind that made her blink. She needed to establish an alibi for this crime, now. There was no time to waste.

  Her car had to be dealt with. She either had to call it in as stolen tonight, knowing it would eventually be found but hey, if she could figure out an ironclad alibi it wouldn’t matter, or she had to get rid of it where it would never be found, or she had to abandon it at the airport—somehow making it there and back without getting caught. Those were her three choices, and none of them were good. Fuck. She felt panic setting in.

  She was so cold she couldn’t think! She left the garage, shoved the heat up to 90 degrees, and began pacing through her living room as she worked through the possibilities in her head. Okay. For this to work, she needed to report her car stolen tonight. ASAP. But if she called it in from here, the cops might check her garage. …She bit her lip as her mind worked like lightning. But it wasn’t safe to drive it with that broken headlight and front-end damage either.

  She considered and discarded each idea in turn. She was on her fourth go-round when she finally decided on a plan of action. She would disguise herself, bike to a store, and take an Uber to the Calua movie theater. Once there, she’d buy a ticket for some movie in cash, change into her regular clothes, then search through the trash until she found a discarded ticket for an earlier show. Then she could walk to dinner—there were plenty of restaurants to choose from—and linger for hours. Maybe hit the bars afterwards. Finally, when she had plenty of time-stamped receipts and had talked to many people who might remember her, she would go “discover” that her car had been stolen, hours earlier. She would call it in and wait for the police to eventually locate it. This would give her some time to dump her car; but she couldn’t let the police check her garage.

  She examined this idea from every angle and couldn’t see a problem with it. Even if the police eventually proved her car was involved in Tara’s death, if it was stolen before Tara died, Ruby would be okay.

  …Probably.

  She sighed again. Hell, it was what she had. It’d have to do. Suddenly sweltering, she peeled her sweatshirt off and tossed it on the floor. She’d shower later, but now she needed to scrub her hands, pack a change of clothes into her backpack, change into her pregnant, Rosemary Woodhouse Halloween costume from two years ago, grab her bike, and go. The timeline was tight, and she couldn’t afford to waste another minute of it.

  She turned the heat back down to eighty and was frantically searching her closet for her blonde wig when her cell began playing “So Into You,” by Atlanta Rhythm Section.

  Ruby’s eyes grew round with wonder. Sean hadn’t called her before now, but that was the ring tone she’d chosen for him! The display read, “Bae.”

  Sean!

  She answered the phone by squealing, “I’m here Sean!” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “What’s up?”

  She heard a rushing in her ears and her eyes got tunnel vision, and she recognized that she’d hyperventilated to the point that she was about to faint. It had happened to her before. “Could you hold on?” she managed to say, as she slid down the wall, clutching the phone to her ear in a death grip and chanting to herself in her mind, “Slowly now. Calm down. Breathe. Nice and easy.”

  “Are you okay? Sean asked. “You don’t sound good.”

  “I’m fine. Fine. How are you?” she chirped, head between her knees as her vision slowly cleared.

  What if he was calling to inform her that Tara had died? She sucked in her breath. Okay, Ruby. You weren’t in Calua tonight, you don’t know Tara’s last name, nor where she lived or worked, and you have no idea what she looked like. Okay? Remember that!

  “I just called to tell you that I can still come to your party on Saturday—Mills agreed to swap nights, but Tara won’t be there.” His voice sounded far away, and she could hear clinking glasses, laughter, and loud music in the background.

  That’s it? Tara won’t be there? He sounded awfully calm about the fact that his girlfriend had just died. “Why not? I was looking forward to meeting her.” She heard the sound of breaking glass. “Where are you, by the way? It’s awfully loud there.”

  “Sorry, I’m on my cell. Let me move someplace quieter.” The phone was muted for a minute, and then he was back. “Is this better?”

  The background sounds were muffled now. “I guess. So, you were saying? Tara can’t come to my dinner party because…?”

  Sean sighed. “It looks like you were right after all. Tara didn’t want to date me exclusively. She’s a recent divorcee, and she said she hadn’t been out on her own in her entire life, and that she was quite enjoying playing the field.”

  “She broke up with you?” Had the woman been insane?

  “Not exactly. She wanted to keep dating casually, but I didn’t. I’m not into women who date other men while they’re dating me.” He cleared his throat and said sheepishly, “You uh, know what I mean.”

  She blinked to hold back her tears. She’d always believed he was a one-woman man, loyal and true with high standards, but now she knew for sure…

  “I knew it,” she whispered, scrubbing at her eyes. “I just knew it.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Uh…” It dawned on her, belatedly, what this meant. They’d already broken up. She had just killed a woman who wasn’t even a threat to her. She felt bile rising in her throat and swallowed it down again. “When…when did all this happen? I mean, a few days ago you two were happy as clams.”

/>   “I was happy, but she obviously wasn’t. Last night I got upset because she told me she’d been out on another date, and things just escalated. But I know she wanted to meet you—she used to live in Chicago, and she recognized your cartoon from The Sun Times. She’s a huge fan. Before she left last night, she made me promise to get you to autograph her copy of your book for her. Would you mind?”

  “No!” Ruby barked. “No, I don’t mind at all.”

  “Thanks. I suppose everything happens for a reason.”

  Hooray. She’d just killed a woman who was her fan. She didn’t know what bothered her more: that she’d killed a woman for no reason, or that her victim had been a fan. Now she had one less fan! And she faced prison for a mistake. Yippee! She felt like she was tap dancing on the edge of some sort of breakdown, and she had to consciously swallow down her giggles. What could she possibly write in Tara’s book now? “Dear Dead Girl, so sorry I killed you. XOXO, Ruby Deardon.”

  “I’m sorry. I know you wanted her,” she said, for lack of anything better to say. Why had he called her? Just to tell her that Tara couldn’t come to her party? So what?

  Sean heaved a big sigh. “I dunno what I wanted. Anyway, I’m flying solo again, and I was calling you to find out—”

  Was he really about to ask her out? Oh, please God! “—if you’d like to do something tonight? I realize it’s kind of short notice, but I tried calling earlier and you didn’t answer—”

  “Yes of course!” Ruby squealed. “I’d love it!” Why wasn’t she taping this conversation? She’d have to write this down verbatim, so she never forgot a single detail.

  “Great. Great,” he said. “Have you eaten yet? We could—”

  “I could fix us dinner!” Why did she say that? There was no food here.

  “You don’t have to do that. You’re already inviting me over for dinner on Saturday. No, I’ll take you out, or we could grab a pizza.”

  Ruby’s stomach rumbled. “Pizza would be perfect.” She had to get him to come to her house! He’d be stepping right into her web. “Why don’t you pick one up and bring it over here. I have drinks, so with the pizza, we’d be all set.”

  “Okay. Any preferences?”

  “Um…” She didn’t know the right answer. She usually ate cheese pizza, but she could tolerate all other toppings except onions. She loathed onions. She wanted to choose whatever he liked best, and she didn’t know the answer. Well, she’d learn to love whatever he chose, and she could pretend they had that in common too. “Nope. I’m easy. It’s your choice.”

  “Okay. That was easy! I’ll see you in about an hour.”

  “You remember how to get here?”

  “I’m sure I could find it, but gimme your address just in case. It’s dark out this time.”

  She recited it to him.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he said, and hung up.

  Ruby waited with her eyes closed until she was sure he was gone before she whispered, “I love you.”

  She had to call Hilary!

  Her eyes popped open in alarm and she looked at the clock. It was almost eight. He’d be here around nine, which meant she had an hour to wash up and shave her legs, bikini and pits, and brush her teeth, and do her hair and makeup, and clean, clean, clean the house—especially the toilet and the tub in case they showered together, and she had to toss Jeremy’s roses, and fix the drawer in the kitchen, and get out her condoms, and pick out sexy lingerie, and change into a slinky outfit, and change the sheets, and find some secret way to rig up her mom’s old video camera over her bed, and. …She had to get a move on!

  But…she couldn’t resist. She had to tell somebody before she burst. Ruby dialed Hilary’s number quickly, and as soon as she answered, Ruby screamed, “I have a date with Sean Chaplin tonight!” and wept with relief.

  CHAPTER 18

  Ruby checked her watch for the millionth time, and it was only 9:13, one minute later than the last time she’d looked. She had to pee again, and she needed another swig of mouthwash.

  When she was finished, she washed her hands and stared at herself in the mirror. She was trembling, her insides were gurgling, and she’d already thrown up once. She felt like this was her first date; and it was the first date she’d ever had that actually mattered to her.

  She slathered on another coat of lipstick, touched her nose ring uncertainly, and twirled in the full-length mirror one last time. Earlier, she locked the bathroom door and took the fastest shower ever, including shaving her important bits. When her hair and makeup were done, she put on a black, silk thong and a matching push-up bra and spent ten frantic, precious minutes Face Timing Hilary all her outfit choices. They decided against dresses or skirts because Ruby was sure Sean wouldn’t have changed clothes, and she didn’t want him to think she was too foofy.

  They finally settled on a form-fitting black cashmere sweater and tight dark blue jeans. The sweater had a low, rounded neckline that was very flattering, and skinny jeans were made for her body type. After a “go get ‘im,” from Hilary, Ruby shut off her phone and got dressed. She briefly considered exchanging Spanx for the thong, but she remembered her Bridget Jones. She definitely didn’t want Sean finding that underneath her clothes should things go the way she was hoping they would.

  She hadn’t had time to do everything she wanted, but she’d speed cleaned what she could, and it would have to do.

  She already had an “Eagles” playlist on Amazon because Sean had loved that band nine years ago. “Alexa, play my Eagles playlist,” Ruby said.

  “Witchy Woman” was playing when her doorbell finally rang at 9:20.

  Ruby took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “Calm. Calm,” she whispered, before calling, “I’m coming!” She turned out the bathroom light, said “You’re fine. Everything’s fine,” and went to answer the door.

  She looked out the peephole. Sean stood on her porch, holding the pizza with both hands. There was a teddy bear with a bouquet of helium balloons tied to its wrist, sitting on top of the pizza box, and Sean had his head cocked to the side, peering through the strings as he reached his hand out and rang the bell again.

  He’d gotten her a teddy bear and balloons on their first date! No wonder he was late! Her wide grin split her face. He was so sweet she could cry.

  She opened the door and stood shyly aside as he entered. “Are those for me?” she asked, eyes shining, as she relieved him of the bear.

  “I think so,” he said in an odd voice. She tried to read his expression, but she didn’t know him well enough yet.

  She hesitated, holding the bear, and almost flung it back at him. “You…think so?” she asked, noticing that one of the Mylar balloons said, “I’m sorry!” in huge red letters. “Sorry for what?” she said.

  “I found the bear sitting on your porch just now, so I thought I’d bring him in.” When she just stared at him, he said sheepishly, “They’re not from me, sorry. I should have brought something…”

  Ruby felt her whole body burning, and she turned her face away from him as she shut the door. They weren’t from him! “Oh. Ha-ha. Of course,” she said with forced gaiety as she tried to gather her composure. He looked around for a place to set the pizza. It was from Round Table, which was her favorite.

  “You can set that down on the coffee table,” she mumbled, watching him. He looked great, as usual. He wore a huge, olive-green long-sleeved shirt, which wasn’t tucked in, and jeans with black tennis shoes. His hair was clean and long, and he smelled divine, like always. Except…was that peppermint she smelled as well? Even better.

  He stood with his hands in his pockets. “You look really nice tonight,” he said.

  Ruby smiled her foolish smile and ran her hands up and down her hips. “Thanks. So do you.”

  He rocked back on his heels and took a hold of the hem of his shirt. “My sister gave me this shirt for my birthday. It’s gigantic. I can’t decide whether to be insulted or not,” he said, laughing.

  Ruby chuckl
ed. She had to remember not to let slip that she knew his birthday was this Sunday, and that he was turning thirty. She had the date circled on her calendar. The calendar! She couldn’t let him see it—it actually said, “Sean’s Birthday!” inside a heart she’d drawn in red ink.

  “What a great couch,” he said as he walked over and perched on the edge. “It’s so huge and crazy and I love the flowers.”

  “Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll go grab some plates. I have wine. I also have beer or soda if you’d prefer.”

  “Actually, I’d love a cup of coffee.”

  “Is instant okay? Otherwise, I can brew—”

  “Instant’s fine. As long as it’s caffeinated.”.

  “With all my late nights, I don’t do decaf! I’ll be just a moment.” Damn. She’d been hoping to get him drunk.

  She tore her calendar off the wall in the kitchen and stuffed it in a drawer, before getting his drink. She scooped coffee into two mugs, filled them with tap water and put them in the microwave for a minute. She found her serving tray on top of the fridge and arranged the mugs, spoons, powdered coffee creamer, Stevia, plates and two paper towels on it. She was back in the living room in less than three minutes.

  “That was fast,” he said, as she sat down next to him, as close as possible. She immediately smelled the booze—it seemed to be seeping out of his very pores. He didn’t appear drunk though. He wasn’t slurring his words or stumbling; perhaps he’d had a couple drinks before coming over? Was the peppermint supposed to hide the smell?

  She swallowed hard, shook off the tension, and smiled wide. It’s fine. Really. She set the tray beside the closed pizza box and handed him his mug. Their fingers touched, and she felt a zap of electricity, but he didn’t seem to notice. “You know, I love this band,” Sean said, as “Desperado” started. “Reminds me of my childhood—my mom is a super fan.”

  “Really? What a coincidence. I’ve always loved them too.”

  He opened the pizza box and her heart sank. Pepperoni and onions. “I hope this is okay. I tried to pick toppings most people like.”