The house is quiet as always, all the lights off except the night light in Dove's bedroom. I make my way to the bathroom first, digging through her laundry like I always do. My fingers wrap around her worn panties, a cheeky pair of hipsters this time, simple black lace. I inhale her scent. Roses. God, I want her. It's getting increasingly harder to stay away from her, to convince myself I shouldn't just barge into her bedroom and alert her to my presence. So what if she resists? I can easily overpower her, and she doesn't need this life. Doesn't need the patronizing Robin or his stupid, fake girlfriend. She would miss Sam, that's for sure, because I would, too. But everyone else is disposable. Including that photographer prick who's been trying relentlessly to force his way into Dove's life. I'll deal with him soon enough.
While I'm going through her stuff, a noise rattles me. But when I turn around, there's nothing. The house is still in the night with no movement at all. I must've imagined it.
I keep going through her things, making a mental note of every little change she's made in the apartment since the last time I've been here. But there isn't much. Dove doesn't really shop for food, not unless she's getting something for Sam. It makes me worry about how much she's eating. I remember her skeletal body when I played with her the other night. She was painfully thin, emaciated. I'd take better care of her than she does. If only she'd see that.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
I spin around. Dove's brother, Robin, is standing in the doorframe as my heart beats into overdrive. He's wearing pajamas. I realize he must've come over to spend the night with Dove. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I should've known I wasn't careful enough tonight. I didn't even check the driveway for his car, I was so fucking eager to get into Dove's house and see her again. But he's here, in the fucking flesh. And as his eyes take me in, realization dawns on him like someone's hit him with a ton of bricks. He knows who I am. He knows what I've done. And now he's going to cut my Dove fantasy short. But I can't let that happen.
"Holy shit," he mutters. "It's you."
I approach him but he holds up his phone as a warning. I speak in slow, hushed tones, because I don't want to wake up Dove. "It's okay. I'm a friend of Dove's, I'm just checking up on her because –"
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Robin hisses at me. His look is one of pure disgust, and he's snarling the words at me, obviously having recognized me. I remember the bruise he gave Kade, having mixed us up years ago. Does he know I'm not my brother? Has he realized I'm not dead at all? "I've already called the cops. The game is up. Get the fuck away from my sister's stuff."
My heart threatens to beat straight out of my chest. For the first time in my life, I'm fucking terrified. Not because I know I'm going to jail, but because I know I'm going to lose Dove if I do.
And I can't let that happen. I can't lose Dove. Even if it means...
"Fuck," I mutter.
"Yeah, fuck is right," Robin snarls in disgust. "What the hell were you thinking? You thought you wouldn't get caught? I'd kill you myself for what you did to her, you sick fuck. Get away from her stuff. I'm not telling you again."
I move away from the laundry basket. One of my hands goes behind my back while I raise the other one in surrender. My heart is beating a million miles a minute and I know this won't end well. Getting busted never does.
The possibilities run through my head. I could run. But then Robin would reveal what he knows to Dove, and she'd spend a lifetime looking over her shoulder. I would never be able to get her.
The other option is to dispose of the man who just caught me. I've killed before. I could kill again. But as I stare at the man in front of me, I remember how much he means to Dove. That he's one of the rare bright lights in her life. I can't take Robin away from her. But what fucking choice do I have?
I lunge at him, clutching the chloroform-soaked rag I pulled from my waistband. His eyes widen, but I'm too fast, and he can't fucking stop me. I press the rag against his mouth, holding my breath while he struggles. The fumes are making me dizzy too, and my rapidly beating heart isn't helping. But I can't stop now. I have to go through with this. I have to get rid of Robin.
Dove's brother's body goes limp in my arms. The fucker's heavy, and I lay him down gently on the ground, mouthing curse word after curse word as I contemplate what to do next.
But either way I turn it, there's no happy ending for Robin. Not if I want to keep Dove in my life. He'd never let us be together. No, he'd keep an even closer eye on me. I have to dispose of him.
I kick at the laundry basket, cursing out loud this time. I pray Dove won't wake up as I drag Robin through the living room. His unconscious body is heavy and I'm thanking my lucky stars when I realize there's nobody on the street outside. I'm risking a lot for Dove. I have to, because we belong together.
I bring my bike closer and position Robin in front of me. I ride out carefully. The last thing I need is to get stopped by cops, even though a twisted part of me is almost hoping it will happen. I don't want to kill Robin. I want him to disappear. Let me have my own happy ending. But that's not going to happen, is it?
I drive close-by to the motel where there's a trash site. Robin's starting to stir by the time I get there and my own guilty conscience weighs heavily on me as I leave his unmoving body on the ground. Fuck. I can't do this. I can't kill him. I don't want to hurt Dove. I want to make her happy, not miserable with worry. But I have no choice.
I pull out the gun I bought from a guy a couple alleys down from Sam, just in case. I guess that just in case moment is happening right now. Pointing the barrel at Robin, I groan out loud, running my hand through my hair. Just then, Dove's brother stirs awake, and I'm momentarily stunned, watching him pick himself up, disoriented and scared. Then, he stares down the barrel of my gun.
"No," he mutters. "You're not going to kill me. I'm not letting you get away with this. You can never have her."
"I have to," I mutter.
"You don't." The hint of desperation in Robin's voice makes me sad. "We can talk about this. You don't have to do this. I won't tell anyone."
He's lying, and we both know it. If I let him go now, he'll go running straight to the cops, and I can't let that happen. I can't lose Dove, not now, not ever.
"I'm a human being," Robin rasps. "Don't kill me... I deserve to live... I deserve to –"
The shot rings out into the dark. The gun falls from my hands. For the first time in decades, I feel tears stinging my eyes. He didn't give me a choice.
***
Hours later, it's closer to morning than night. I've downed half a bottle of whiskey and I'm a goddamn mess as I show up on Sam's street. The old man's curled up on his makeshift bed. There's a spoon nearby, and a needle sticking out of his arm. This time I don't mention it. I can't, my mind too preoccupied with what I've just done.
"Up early?" Sam asks me, taking the needle out. His pupils are insanely dilated, but he seems mostly out of his daze. He disposes of the evidence of his night. Just like I did with mine.
"Couldn't sleep," I mutter, half-collapsing on the ground next to him.
"Jesus, kid, you fucking reek," Sam mutters. "Did you visit a distillery?"
"Something like that," I mutter. I don't elaborate, and Sam doesn't ask me to. I feel sick to my stomach, like I'm going to throw up any second. I want to die. For the first time in my life, I feel disgusted enough with myself to take my own life. How could I do this to her? How could I ruin Dove's life like this?
She can never find out what I did. It'll be my best kept secret. Because the moment Dove finds out I killed her brother, it's officially fucking over for us.
"You sure you're okay, kid?" Sam asks next, and I look up into his kind eyes. The closest relationship in my life right now is this – my friend is a homeless man who cares more about me than my own family. And yet I can't tell him the truth. Can't risk Sam hating me, too.
So I tell myself I'm allowed this – a single moment of weakness. Tears sting my eyes b
ut they never fall. I shake my head, unable to answer Sam's question. Sobs begin to wrack my body, but no tears fall. Even I'm disgusted with myself.
Sam pats me on the back as I howl into the night, not giving a shit who hears or sees me. I don't know how long I'm there, but Sam consoles me through it. He doesn't take his hand off my back until I calm down, and when I can finally breathe again, I pull away from him, my face stoic as I tuck my hands into the pockets of my jeans.
"I'm sorry for taking up your night," I tell Sam harshly. "I... I got overwhelmed."
"This got something to do with Dove?"
I hesitate, but finally nod. "Doesn't it always?"
"I think you should show yourself to her," he tells me resolutely. "I think she'd be grateful to have you. You seem like a good man. I trust you."
You shouldn't.
I don't say anything, merely nodding with the ghost of a smile on my lips. There's nothing left to say anymore, nothing I can do to make this better for either of us. I raise my hand in silent goodbye and Sam does the same. With my hands in my pockets, I make my way back to my bike, kicking at the gravel.
I've committed the most heinous crime. Now I have to make sure Dove never finds out about it. One person will never forgive me – and it's myself. But if Dove found out, she would hate me forever. And I can't have that. Because I need her. I can't live without her. And I'll just have to live with my own guilty conscience for the rest of my life.
I can do that.
If it means I eventually get my little bird in my arms, I can do fucking anything.
Chapter 15
Dove
When I wake up the next morning, Robin's gone already. I'm sad he left without saying goodbye and can't help but feel guilty about it, so I call his cell, but the operator tells me his number isn't available.
Groaning, I end the call.
I try to go about my day, heading to the plant nursery where I stay in the back, moving stock, sweeping floors and cleaning shelves, anything I can do so I don't have to deal with customers. I don't have it in me today to deal with people.
I call Robin three times that day and every single time, I get the dreaded not available message. His phone must be switched off... But Robin never switches off his phone. He always tells me I can call him anytime. Finally, I decide to bite the bullet and call Elise. Maybe she knows what's up.
"What's up?" she answers on the fourth ring.
"Hey, Elise." Fuck, I already sound panicked. "I was wondering if you heard from Robin."
"I thought he was with you?" My heart pangs when she says that. "He was supposed to call me this morning, and he never did."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," she mutters. "Do you think something's wrong?"
I hesitate, not knowing what to tell her. "Can we meet at his apartment in an hour?"
"Sure," Elise says, sounding more bothered than I would have liked. I wanted her to make me feel better, to console me, but the call has done exactly the opposite of that.
Thirty minutes later, I leave the plant nursery and head to Robin's apartment downtown. Elise is already waiting, and I'm relieved to see her yappy dog isn't with her. We use Elise's keys to get in. The apartment is empty. He's nowhere to be seen.
"This is weird," I say. "It is, isn't it?"
"I... I think so," Elise manages, wiping her eyes. She's already crying. So much for not panicking.
"We have to go to the cops," I tell her.
"But they won't do anything. All the TV shows say you have to wait twenty-four hours before you report someone missing, don't they?"
"I don't care. Are you coming with me or not?" She nods wordlessly. We get in her car and ride to the nearest police station in a silence that’s charged with worry. I feel sick to my stomach. Instinctively, I know something's wrong. Robin would never disappear without telling me where he was going. Something bad has happened.
We both give our reports at the police station. Elise was right – until the twenty-four hours are up, we can't do anything. And it's been only seventeen since I last saw him going to sleep in my living room. Anxiously, I wait for the time to pass, grabbing coffee with Elise in a hipster cafe nearby. It's flavored with something ridiculous like orange blossom, but I barely even notice the flavor. I scald my tongue on the hot beverage, downing it in quick gulps that do nothing to soothe me.
"I'll have to go soon," Elise mutters apologetically. "Pepper's alone at home... I need to walk him."
"Okay."
"Are you going to be okay?"
"I have to be," I mutter. "I'm going back to the station soon, in another few hours. They have to start the search then."
She picks up her purse and putting down some money for our drinks. "Dove, I know it's none of my business, but... Please eat something."
My eyes snap up and we stare at one another.
"You look so thin," she says softly. "Painfully thin. Please eat. That's what Robin would want."
I nod. I don't trust myself to say anything right now.
When Elise leaves, I order a slice of pecan pie. It arrives, prettily arranged on a patterned plate, and I stare at it, picking at the crust with my dessert fork while my stomach rumbles loudly.
I'm hungry. Starving. So why is the thought of eating only managing to make me feel sicker?
My phone dings. It’s a message from the account that commented on my Instagram the other day. He or she has sent through a photo, an abandoned cup of coffee with lipstick on the rim. No words. The image is black and white save from the hot pink of the lipstick. I manage a shaky smile.
I reply, if only to distract myself from the inescapable truth of my reality – that Robin is gone. My gut says so, and my gut is never wrong.
Good eye.
Thanks, little bird.
You have a nickname for me now?
Don't you like it?
This is dangerously close to flirting, and I find myself thinking of Raphael guiltily. I haven't returned his text and call from this morning, but I have time to chat to this stranger.
Instead of replying, I force myself to get up, the abandoned plate reminding me just how weak I am and how disappointed Robin would be. I leave Elise's money on the table and head to the precinct.
I'm introduced to Detective Goldin, who's going to lead the investigation. He tells me nonsense I don't believe, like that Robin probably went on a bender, or wanted to escape for a few days. I don't buy any of it, and I head back home with the sinking feeling that he's gone. For good.
***
Somehow, two weeks pass. I've been dodging Raphael's calls apart from telling him Robin's gone missing. But I just don't have the energy to show my fear to someone else. Because deep down, I already accepted he isn't coming back. A sister just knows.
Elise is getting on my last nerve, too. She's unwilling to accept that Robin's missing and keeps pressing me for details, like I'll magically remember something I've skimmed over. Of course I won't remember anything. I remember that night well – I've replayed it in my mind a thousand times.
I visit Sam that night with a box of cookies and a paper cup of warm soup. He knows all about Robin’s disappearance and has been my lone shining star in the time since my brother has been missing.
"Any news?" he calls out when he sees me approaching.
"Nothing," I mutter, handing him the cup. He starts sipping on the chicken noodle soup while I sigh, crumpling on the blanket next to him. "I just wish they'd find... something."
"You've accepted that he's gone."
"I don't want to," I mutter. "I just feel it. I know he's dead."
He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Dove. Have you called your mother?"
"Yesterday." The call was fucking painful. Mom was awkward and cold like always, although at least she got a little emotional when it came to the subject of Robin. She always liked him better than me. But she was as clueless as we all were as to Robin’s whereabouts.
"No news there?" Sam wonders,
and I shake my head. He pats my hand, and I'm grateful he hasn't tried to give me some bullshit reason why Robin's gone. He accepts my grief, doesn't question the fact that I know he's gone, like Elise does.
I stay with Sam until he finishes his soup, leaving him the cookies for later. He tells me to come by again, and I promise I will, heading back home to find a familiar face at my doorstep.
"Raphael?"
"Hey." He smiles, offering me a bouquet of yellow roses. "I thought they might cheer you up."
I smile weakly, accepting the bouquet with a soft thank you as I let us into my apartment. I don't tell him I don't like cut flowers. I don't explain they remind me of the inevitable end.
We sit down in the living room, making small talk and avoiding the topic of Robin. I'm grateful as well as resentful that he doesn't ask about my brother, and my own confusing feelings twist my stomach into a thousand knots.
"I'm sorry I just barged in here," he finally says. "I've been really worried about you. Are you eating?"
I shrug noncommittally. Robin was the only person besides Sam in my life who cared about that.
"Do you want me to order something?"
The truth is, I can’t remember the last time I ate. Can’t remember eating at all. My eyes fill with tears for the first time in days. I'm hungry. I nod gratefully at Raphael's idea, and he quickly places an order at a taqueria downtown.
"Dove."
I can't bring myself to look at him. If I do, he's going to see the sadness and despair in my eyes, and I don't want him to acknowledge it right now.
"Dove, I think we should get drunk."
"What?" My eyes snap up because I'm so shocked by his statement. "How's that going to help?"
"You'll forget," he says. "At least for a little while."
Somehow, forgetting seems like a good option right now.
We discover some long-abandoned margarita mix in my pantry, probably left over from one of Robin's visits. Raphael blends ice into the mix and adds tequila, serving us ice-cold drinks in tall mason jars.
Tyrant Stalker: A Dark Forbidden Romance (Tyrant Dynasty Book 2) Page 10