He stomped on his cell until it was crushed to bits. With each blow he imagined Kyle’s smug face, or his girlfriend Jamie, or his protégée Sierra Raven, or any other part of Kyle’s life that the boy deemed a success. When William was thirty, he’d had to take a job at a local community college to help support his newborn twins. He’d been writing a book then too, which he gave up in the hopes that the teaching job might lead to a full-time position. On his first day, he spent his free period crying in the bathroom, unable to stop. Finally, he refused to keep weeping. He stood at the grimy mirror and slapped his face until not a tear remained. He licked his lips over and over until every ounce of frustration had left his body. He’d recently taken a hypnotist’s class and learned certain repetitive motions that he could use on himself and others. He believed this ability to control his emotions was now his best quality.
It angered William that at thirty Kyle was already editing a book likely to become a bestseller. Until the end of time, that book would exist. And what did William have? A handful of students who called him a mentor but would forget him over the years, just like Kyle had. Maybe they’d bring up his name in a passing conversation and talk of what a great professor he was, but eventually they would die, and then who’d speak of him anymore? Once Laura and his children died as well, his name would never be brought up again.
But not if he could help it.
He got on his knees and moved aside the three-by-four rug under his desk chair to reveal a tiny silver keyhole. Using a strange-looking key, he opened a hidden compartment under the floor. A black box sat there and he stared at it for a second before removing the lid. Inside was a gray heart-shaped rock the size of a softball. He held the rock in his lap, caressing its surface as if it were a pet. Then he smashed it into his forehead until he had broken through skin. He smoothed his blood around, his palms dripping, deadly still. He felt at ease one again, his own way of replacing the pain of rejection with a physical sting.
“William,” a muffled voice called out.
He put the rock back inside the box.
“William, are you up there?”
He identified the voice as Laura’s and it centered him. He floated back into his body. He put the lid on the box, locked it, and placed the rug over his secret. He got out some Kleenex and mopped his brow. When he opened his office door to Laura’s scared expression, the blood had clouded his eyes, tinting her red.
“William! What happened?” she shrieked.
“I must have fallen,” he said, in a detached manner, licking his lips over and over.
“Just an accident,” he continued, with a finger to his lips. “Ssssshhhhhhh.”
13
TO CELEBRATE HER good news, Jamie got a table at the most expensive restaurant in Brooklyn. She’d briefly dated its owner, Vin Alleghetti, when she first moved to the city and still kept in good contact through design jobs he sent her way. Vin was in his fifties but built like a marine with guns the size of Kyle’s legs. He insisted on a secret tasting menu for her and Kyle with crazy concoctions like sea urchin with peanut butter foam and Japanese flower mushrooms with sea cucumber and huan ham. He personally came over at the end of the meal with a cupcake made from rare cocoa beans and the frosting covered in gold flakes.
“Stunning,” Vin said.
“It is,” Jamie replied, dipping a finger into the icing.
“I was speaking of you.” Vin laughed and kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Kyle,” he said, massaging Kyle’s shoulders. “I gave up pining over this one a long time ago.”
Jamie enjoyed the perturbed look on Kyle’s face. She figured he should feel threatened after how he’d acted recently, but she wouldn’t let the torture go on for too long. She moved toward him for a kiss.
“You lost me to a better man,” she said.
“That I did.” Vin winked. “All right, you kids, enjoy.”
Vin left them to schmooze at the next table over. Jamie heard his powerful laugh. She found herself briefly missing it, since there’d been many laughs with Vin.
“Seems like we’ve come to Vinyard every time we have a major fight,” Kyle said. “Are you trying to show me how easily I could lose you?”
She touched her finger to her nose. “Bingo, Sherlock.”
“Mission accomplished.” He nervously drummed his fingers on the table. “I need to really apologize. You’ve been waiting for this all night, haven’t you?”
“I figured I was due.”
“You’re right that I can obsess over things, be it with my job or what happened with William.”
“I saw a side of you I didn’t like.”
“I didn’t like it either. It reminded me of when I was younger.”
“At Bentley?”
He nodded, almost ashamed.
“Kyle, you don’t have to tell me—”
“I want to. I’ve wanted to tell you this for some time.”
Jamie took a sip of water, steeling herself for whatever the outcome.
“So I was on a scholarship and working two campus jobs with no time to do anything else. I’d been hanging around with bad influences, these thug townies. We started selling pot to kids on campus. The townies supplied the schwag, I had the connections. Then there was this girl. She went to Bentley and hung out with us too. We were like a foursome against the world, for about a month or so. She had a relationship with all three of us at the same time. She also knew these other local dealers who could get us coke, speed, crystal, anything we wanted for cheap.”
He nibbled on his fingernail. “I’m not proud of this, Jamie.”
“I don’t care what you did,” she said, hoping she sounded genuine because she really was being truthful. “Whatever it is, we’ll work through it.”
He took a deep breath, relieved. “So we’d buy loads of stuff from these guys. We bought whatever they had and then sold it to rich Bentley kids at ten times the cost. And soon we were controlling like all the drugs on campus, it just happened so fast. But the townies were morons and got busted one day. Of course they only ratted me out, both of them were in love with the girl. William knew I dealt, I’d even sold him some pills before, occasionally he needed them to help him sleep or something—anyway, I called him from jail.”
Kyle was getting worked up so Jamie took his hand, rubbing a soothing circle into his palm.
“I didn’t even ask him to do this, but he went into my dorm room and removed all the drugs, some really bad shit. One minute I’m sitting in jail and then suddenly I’m free. The next day he told me what he did and that he’d convinced the administration it was all a misunderstanding. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Whoa.”
“I quit right after … selling, doing, everything. Those townies, I have no idea what happened to them—nothing good, I imagine. And the girl, she vanished soon after, like she even made the papers, vanished completely. I don’t know if the townies were involved, probably somehow. I just pretended like it was all a dream, a horrible dream. But then I got my shit together. I started really studying, fell in love with literature. I even pulled an A by the end of the semester. So now you know.”
Jamie had been holding her breath. In her mind, she’d conjured up something way worse. He’d been young and dumb, and a bit of a bad boy. This she could work with.
“I’m glad you told me,” she said. “I know that wasn’t easy.”
“And with William appearing again—it’s been stuff I haven’t dealt with in a long freaking time. And with him being so intense, it wasn’t a good mix.”
“I understand.”
“He thinks I owe him, and I do—I’m grateful—but his manuscript is awful. There’s no chance it’ll be published as is and he’s refusing to believe it.”
“I’m sorry I pushed you so much with him,” Jamie said. “I was letting our problems—”
“You did nothing wrong. Anyway, I told him I couldn’t see him for a while, since I’m too busy with work and you. That I’m burning
the candle at both ends.”
“How did he take it?”
Kyle avoided looking at her.
“He … was upset but ultimately understood. He wished me the best and I said the same. I promised him when he finishes Devil’s Hopyard and really rewrites it, I’d give it another look. It’s just a bad time now.”
“I didn’t realize the kind of history you two had.”
“It’s not healthy for me to be thinking about my freshman year, too much is at stake with the Sierra deal…”
Jamie picked up her knife and cut into the cupcake. Melted chocolate oozed out.
“I’m ready to eat this dessert and start celebrating,” she said.
“So am I forgiven?”
She picked up a piece of cake and fed him. “You are.”
“I feel lighter after telling you all that,” he said.
“Good.”
She kissed his chocolate lips, actually feeling lighter as well. She almost used the opportunity to bring up moving in together, casually, of course, to see how he’d respond, but she didn’t want to push it. The fact that he finally shared the troubling times from his past was enough for now. They were closer than ever because of this.
* * *
AFTER LEAVING THE restaurant, they hailed a taxi. Kyle offered to stay at Jamie’s place, knowing how much that meant to her, but she refused.
“I wouldn’t want my roommate to get in the way of what I plan to do to you tonight,” she said, sticking her hand down his pants.
“Okay, this is happening.” He smiled.
In the darkness of his apartment, he kicked aside a fruit basket left outside the front door and pressed her up against the wall, kissed her lips, her neck.
“I’ve missed you,” he said into her ear.
“I’ve missed you too.”
She broke away with a giggle and turned on the lights, heading into the kitchen. She brought back a bottle of rosé and two glasses.
“I’m trying to drink less,” he said.
She scrunched up her face. “Really?”
“I realize I rely on it too much to destress. This last week with William—”
“Uh-uh, no, no.” She shook her head. “No more talking about William at all. We’ve devoted enough time tonight to him, to the past. This is my night. We are celebrating Elka being the first investor for Camden Designs.”
“Okay, pour me a glass,” Kyle said. “I want to make a toast.”
She poured him a generous amount and cuddled under his arm.
“Here’s to Jamie Camden, a beautiful and talented designer who’s on her way to being the next Martha Stewart.”
“Without the prison time,” she said, clinking his glass.
“And to the best girlfriend a guy could ask for. Seriously, how did I get so fucking lucky?”
“Beats me. But you’re about to get even luckier.”
She knocked back the glass of rosé and removed her bra without taking off her dress. “I’m slipping into the shower. Meet me in the bedroom.”
She disappeared into the bathroom. Soon steam wafted out from under the door. He swore to himself that he wouldn’t bring up William again, under any circumstances. He’d been able to pretend his strange year at Bentley was a dream, and he’d do the same with his former professor. This past week would become nothing more than a joke he’d tell at a party one day, the time his old mentor went cuckoo. Although he had to admit, it did feel as if he’d entered his own personal thriller: jarringly insane for sure, but a tad exciting too.
He began stripping down to his boxer briefs as he headed toward the bedroom, leaving his clothes in a pool in the hallway. Upon entering, he saw the window had been left opened wide, way too wide for this time of the year. He often left it ajar for Capone to slip through, but never more than a few inches. A chilling breeze rushed in that sent gooseflesh up and down his arms. He went over to the window and forced himself to look out.
In the alleyway below, Capone lay splayed, the cat’s front sliced open, its organs scattered.
“What the f—”
A sharp ache throbbed between his eyes as he leaned farther out and saw a wadded-up ball of undergarments stuffed where the cat’s heart used to be. He recognized it immediately as Jamie’s, since she often left a spare set of panties in case she stayed the weekend.
“I’m ready,” Jamie called, stepping out of the shower, the smell of her shampoo in the air.
He took one more look at Capone’s mutilated body and mourned the loss of his furry friend before slamming the window shut. He had to lock his fingers together to keep from trembling. When he turned around, Jamie was standing there in a Badgers towel.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
He couldn’t tell her, not after how far they’d come tonight. William must have done this to Capone—what other logical explanation could there be? But to mention him would only cause disaster. And besides, how could he even begin to put what he just saw into words?
She unknotted the towel and let it slide to the floor. She beckoned him to come closer, and he fell into her arms. She led him over to the bed and wasn’t wasting any time, pushing him inside her before he had the chance to compartmentalize what had just occurred.
William had invaded his home. William was intent on starting a war.
“Oh, God, yes,” Jamie moaned, squeezing her eyes shut.
Kyle thrust into her, but he was still thinking of William, his anger increasing as he simmered with rage. A wild spirit had entered his body and he couldn’t deny its intoxication. Jamie was screaming now, but he wouldn’t let up. He was possessed, as if William’s dark presence had entered the room and taken hold.
Afterward, Jamie slept soundly and Kyle held her tightly, afraid but exhilarated, figuring out what his next step would be in this cat-and-mouse game William was so intent on playing.
14
WILLIAM HADN’T SLEPT all night, but he reasoned it was a good kind of tired. He’d felt energized and stayed up writing, slamming out thirty pages of prose. This was how he worked best, in fits and spurts. At one point, he’d been so engrossed in his art that he didn’t notice that the bandage over his forehead had slipped and fallen onto his computer, leaving a bloody streak across the keys. He used that image to inspire the scene he was writing—where the professor came home from Devil’s Hopyard with a gash on his face that dripped blood onto his journal. Then the professor stayed up all night to write what had occurred in the park, his blood mixing with the ink.
Midmorning, he met with Nathaniel in his office at Bentley. Having the boy become his personal research assistant was working out well so far. It was amazing what a desperate student would do for a chance at a better grade. The two had spent the other day in the city, and William was beginning to grow fond of him. Each year he devoted himself to one chosen pupil—the needier the better—and Nathaniel was begging for attention from anyone. So he listened to the boy’s heartache, how Nathaniel pined for that girl Kelsey in his class, and he promised he’d do what he could to help. Then he got Nathaniel to agree to help him.
“I want to thank you for the other day,” William said when Nathaniel finally showed up for their meeting. He was glad to see the boy hadn’t come in sweatpants. He’d given him a lecture about respectable dress code.
“Yeah … sure,” Nathaniel said, munching the hell out of a fingernail, only a nub left. He took a folder out of his backpack and passed it to William.
“Is that your research on Camus?”
“Yes, sir.”
William made sure to give Nathaniel a wide smile. He reminded himself to treat the kid with positive reinforcement.
“This is really excellent. You’ve done a one-eighty in my class.”
Nathaniel stopped biting his fingernail. He nodded shyly, ran his fingers through his hair and let it fall over his eyes.
“How did he like it, by the way?” Nathaniel asked.
“What do you me
an?”
“The gift we left your friend in Brooklyn. The fruit basket?”
William’s smile grew even wider. He chuckled, barely audible at first, but then it became louder, echoing throughout his tiny office.
“Oh, I’m sure he was surprised.”
* * *
KYLE CALLED THE police when he got home from Burke & Burke. He couldn’t do it in the morning, since Jamie stayed over and he didn’t want to be late for work. He worried Jamie wouldn’t be able to deal with the fact that William had somehow managed to break in and kill Capone, and he doubted Carter would be sympathetic. Carter was interested only in the novels he published, not Kyle’s saga with his demented professor.
A detective and his assistant showed up at Kyle’s apartment, since he told the police an animal was killed in the break-in. The detective, Tomás Ruiz, had light skin, a pug nose, and a skeptical left eyebrow that seemed to rise every time he asked a question. His assistant, referred to only as Jones, was an African American woman whose hair was pulled back into a serious ponytail and spoke without ever showing her teeth.
“Was this your cat?” Detective Ruiz asked, peering out the window at the alleyway below and cringing at the sight of Capone’s disfigured body.
“It was an alley cat, but I took care of it and fed it sometimes. I let it come and go.”
Jones looked out the window too, no emotion on her face at the gruesome death scene below.
“Animal control is on its way,” Jones said. “Mr. Broder, since it was an alley cat, isn’t there a chance that something in the streets might’ve caused this? A rabid raccoon?”
“I know who did this,” Kyle said. “Professor William Lansing in Killingworth, Connecticut.”
“Is this from him?” Jones asked, holding up a basket of fruit with a tiny note. Kyle swiped it and noticed William’s handwriting.
Kyle, so sorry about what’s happened between us.
No reason to let business get in the way of a friendship.
No worries about Devil’s Hopyard, I’ll find it another home.
—William
Kyle let out a huff and flicked the note from his hand. “That’s bullshit. He doesn’t mean it.”
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