“You shouldn’t have come in today,” Josh says, peeking into my office. “I told you to take time. This isn’t time. You’re torturing yourself.”
I shrug. “If I sit around anywhere else I’ll go crazy, Josh. At least here I have something to do.”
“Okay, well…I just wanted to tell you I’m here. I know I’m not exactly the best at emotions and sentimental shit, but you’re my bro and if you need to talk, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks, man.” I don’t want to talk, though. I do appreciate his offer, regardless.
Josh leaves, and I pick up the steaming mug of coffee to sip. Just as my lips hit the heat, I sputter the coffee all over my desk.
“Capiche! Holy shit…Ca-fucking-piche!”
I jump from my chair and grab my cellphone.
“Soloman.”
“Detective, it’s Weston Casey. Elsa Lawrence. Elsa fucking Lawrence. Sheridan Wyoming,” I say each word, enunciating the syllables so he understands my words.
“Mr. Casey…slow down.”
“Elsa Lawrence. Is my ex-wife. She killed Leah. I fucking know it. Please, detective, help me.”
Soloman says the Vegas police are on Leah’s case, but he’ll call and let them know to look into Elsa.
“Don’t go all vigilante on me now, Weston.”
“I can’t promise you anything.” I was being honest.
I end the call and open my travel app. The confirmation email that my flight to Sheridan is booked makes me smile. The only time I’ve smiled since Leah died.
***
Hunter
(Yes, that’s right. You read that correctly…)
I knew one thing about Elsa Lawrence. She was a snake in the grass. A temptress. A succubus. She coiled around me like a python and struck me like a viper.
How stupid could I have been to fall into her little trap? A plaything, a muse. That’s all I was to her. A distraction after her husband was lucky enough to divorce her. I fell hard and fast for her delicious sex appeal. That cougar-thing really gets to you when you’re young and fucking stupid.
She dropped me like a hot potato when she caught sight of a new piece of meat. I remember walking into the backyard at her house, seeing him, barely eighteen, cutting the lawn. She was sprawled on a chair, even in the cool fall air, wearing nothing but a smile and a sunhat.
I’m surprised he didn’t run over his own fucking foot when he backed up the mower. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. He was seconds away from getting caught in her web. And she was primping herself, ready to strike and suck the life out of him.
I turned, without either of them seeing me, and left. I may be young, but I’m no idiot and I won’t be played for a fool. I saw the look on her ex-husband’s face. He was hurt by her. I’ll be damned if she is going to do that to me. No way was I going to invest years into her either.
I shrugged off the suit she bought me, threw it on the floor, and dressed in my own clothes. Slightly feeling like myself again. I backed my truck right into the side of her car when I was leaving the driveway. A small smile curled on my lips. She loves that car. And I love four-by-four’s with no-nonsense power.
How perfect was the moment when Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It” came on the radio as I flew down the road that day. I screamed the lyrics and smacked the steering wheel with my fingers.
I knew my next step was to find Weston Casey. I know I didn’t ruin their marriage—that was long over before I came into the picture—but, I needed to tell him I was sorry. I also needed to warn him that Elsa was acting all kinds of fucking weird about some country singer. I didn’t know who she was, but Elsa was gone on a “business trip” right around the same time the band was playing at some club in New York that caught fire.
I knew it was her. It had to have been. I also knew she burned down Weston’s first property. She came home smelling like smoke.
“I went for a walk after work. Someone was having a bonfire, the smoke must have travelled to the sidewalk.”
“Bullshit,” I muttered. At the time finding her story odd but not giving it another thought. Of course, until I heard about the building in Buffalo getting torched.
Getting an interview at Weston’s new agency was a piece of cake. I walked in, and smiled at the black-haired bombshell and said I wanted a job. Riley, her name was, had been an employee of Elsa’s, but quit to work for Weston.
That should have tipped me off right there. If Elsa was so great, Riley wouldn’t have left. That, or she was fucking Weston. But, she wore a wedding ring. I doubt all married people are cheaters. Riley was gorgeous…I mean, hot damn. Elsa who?
I smiled, charmed, got an interview…and asked her out to dinner. She laughed, and wiggled that damn ring in my face. “Married, sweetheart.” She giggled. “But, thank you for the offer…You’re adorable. Come back on Tuesday for your interview.”
I’d scrub the damn toilets if I got to work around her. I did have a license to sell real estate, I got it fresh out of college. That’s how I met Elsa, actually. But, to this day, I’ve ever sold a thing. I think I just got it to shut my parents up. To make them happy that their son actually did something with his life, even if I fucked my knee and couldn’t play football anymore.
I got the job.
“When will Mr. Casey be back in town?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m not sure. He has a lot going on in New York right now. But, I think he’ll like you…you remind me a little of him.”
I smile.
“Do you have any tattoos?” Riley asked, blushing a little.
“No.” I chuckle. “Is it a prerequisite for the job?” I wanted to tell her I’d tattoo her name across my forehead if it got me closer to her.
She laughs and shakes her pretty head. “Just asking.”
***
Coming to work and getting canned was a complete shock. But the moment I saw her holding that iPad, and hearing the deep voice coming from the speaker, I knew I was done. He recognized me. Probably thought Elsa planted me like some mole. He was wrong. I wasn’t there for her, I was there for him…well, at first I was, then I saw Riley and I was definitely there for me and my dick.
“I understand,” I said, frowning at Riley.
“Listen, if you’re willing to travel I know someone who may have a job for you,” she said, pulling a business card from her desk. “Call Bob, he’s a little intimidating…but he’s no Weston. Sorry again, Hunter.”
I smiled and took the card, shoving it into my pocket. “No worries, Riley. I’ll be just fine.”
When I went home that night I researched everything I could about Elsa, Weston and this new girl, Leah Marshall. The YouTube videos of news clips I watched horrified me. Leah had been kidnapped…holy shit. Exactly when Elsa was on another “business trip”, too. I had to get to Weston, I had to tell him what I suspected.
From what I could see, no one connected Leah to Elsa. Seemed like the cops had nothing, actually.
I drained the money from my bank account. All thirty-thousand dollars I had saved since college, and booked a flight to New York.
What hurt the most out of all of this, is that Elsa hasn’t even called me once. I was a dime a dozen. Replaceable. A passing thing.
I made it to New York. The first time I had ever been out of Wyoming. I picked the biggest, busiest city to travel to alone. Somehow—with thanks to the Internet and my smartphone—I was able to find Leah Marshall. Well, a glimpse of her as she went into a recording studio with some other guys. I recognized them from the pictures online, they were her band members.
I also found Weston. Which was easy. He worked at a huge blue glass building. Montedesco Properties. Damn, Elsa had no idea how small her little world really was. She thought Pine Ridge was the be-all, end-all. When really it was the algae on the ass of this giant whale shark.
My sister used to read Nancy Drew books when I was little. Out loud, at night when we were supposed to be slee
ping. She was older than me, and knew I was afraid of the dark. She would creep into my room and sit on the edge of my bed, reading to me. I always fell asleep before the end of the book, every time. She wouldn’t tell me what happened, instead she would start a new book the next night. I always asked her how it ended, and she would just wink.
“How do you think it ended?” she would ask.
“I don’t know.”
“Think like a detective, Hunter. You’re so smart, you can do anything if you just think about it.”
I smiled, thinking of my big sister and her love for books. She’s an author herself now. A New York Times Bestseller, actually. The golden star in my family.
I remember her words. Think like a detective, Hunter. I was going to do just that. I needed to keep my eyes on Leah and Weston…without them seeing me. I also needed to bring Elsa Lawrence to her knees—and not in the way she likes. I was going to destroy her. This time, she was going to be the one hurting. If it were possible…don’t you need a heart for that?
I spent a good deal of my money on the flight here and hotels to stay in. When I listened in on Leah’s conversation at Central Park, I heard the word Vegas and spent another two grand flying there on the same plane as she did with her band. Lucky for me, there was only one seat left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Weston
Elsa wasn’t at the office. She wasn’t answering her phone. I drove out to the house. My old house… it was never a home. I smile when I see her car in the driveway.
The door was unlocked, so I let myself in. The house was quiet. Too quiet.
A small whimper from upstairs alerted me, and I glanced up the large wooden staircase. She was up there. Probably with that little bastard, Hunter.
This is gonna be good.
We kept a gun in the house. This was Wyoming after all.
I took it out of the lockbox before I headed, quietly, upstairs. Padding lightly on my sock covered feet up the stairs.
I’ve heard that sound before. That whimper. That fake cry. The fake orgasm. I gave her plenty of those during our sham of a marriage. She should have won a fucking Oscar for her performances.
The brass knob turned in my hand, the latch clicked, and I held my breath. I was going to do this. I had to. She took Leah from me, and I was going to take her life completely. I will spend the rest of mine in jail—I don’t care. Being without Leah is like being in a prison, anyway.
Sure enough, there she is. Arching her back, and crying out fabricated cries of pleasure. I fully expect to see a head between her legs…but I don’t. She’s doing this to herself. She’s alone.
I raise an eyebrow.
Even better.
“Hello, darling.”
Elsa’s eyes fly open and she gaps. “West! What are you doing here?” Her blonde hair falling over her eyes as she tries to catch her breath.
I grit my teeth. “You took her from me.”
She makes the mistake of smiling. “You should have heard her screaming.”
No, I was wrong. Speaking was her biggest mistake. I lift my hand, cocking the gun at her.
“You wouldn’t.”
I nod. “I would.”
Elsa throws back the sheets, exposing her naked body to me. She sits up and tosses her hair back. “I did you a favor.”
My chest heaves. I should have just walked in a shot her. Instead of listening to this shit. “Don’t you fucking dare…”
Another laugh.
I close my eyes, pressing back on the trigger.
I love you, Leah. Forever. I’ll love you forever.
A shriek, a shot, and I’m being tackled to the ground.
“Weston, NO!”
I fight and pound the ground with my fist. “Fuck you! Let me kill her!”
“Weston, look at me!”
I turn and through my tears, see Andrew.
“Andrew? What the fuck!”
“Get up, let’s go. NOW!” He pulls me to my feet. “Dan, don’t you fucking dare let go of her.”
I look over to the bed. Elsa is standing next to it, with a giant African-American man wrapped around her, restraining her. She has a devil-smile on her face, vacant eyes…and a gun at her feet.
I look down to mine, my gun is still there, at my feet.
“I need an ambulance and the police. Eighty-four East Colton road. One shot. Perp in custody.”
One shot? Who’s shot? Elsa?
“Weston, sit down, buddy…oh, fuck.” Andrew grabs a towel from the bathroom and presses it to my chest.
I’m shot.
What a wonderful turn of events.
Fuck.
I black out.
***
When I was twelve, I got the genius idea to climb a massive oak tree with my little brother Liam. We were on a camping trip in Ontario, Canada. At a relative’s cottage on a big, blue lake. I climbed high…I mean, high. Liam was afraid. I called him a little baby. I was a mean big brother.
He followed me up the tree, less confident, therefor, much more careful. I pretended to be brave, which made me cocky. I stepped out on to a big branch. And fell. I mean, fast and hard.
I landed on the ground, on a bunch of sticks and rocks, tearing open a gash on my back, breaking my arm and my ankle.
Liam screamed for help, and took his sweet time climbing back down to help me. I remember crying. Like a fucking baby.
“I’m sorry, Liam…I should have never went up there. Don’t go back up, okay? Promise me.”
The look in Liam’s eyes told me he wasn’t going to anyway.
My parents followed the screams and found us. Liam held my hand, and cried until they told him to stop and that I was going to be okay.
My dad picked me up and carried me to the cottage. He called 9-1-1, and I spent the next four days in the hospital. The rest of my summer was spent on the couch.
I’ll never forget that pain.
I’ll never forget the fear as I fell, not knowing how I was going to land, or if I was going to die. It went so fast, but I remember every single second.
Waking up in the hospital now, in this kind of pain. Makes the tree accident eighteen years ago seem like a paper cut in comparison. My body hurts. But my heart…aches like nothing else.
My eyes open in the dimly lit room. Liam is here. He’s holding my hand again.
“Liam?” I manage the words through my sore throat.
“Weston! Oh, shit…let me go get mom and dad.” Liam stands to leave.
“No, wait.” I squeeze his hand. “Stay here for a minute, please.”
I think I just wanted him to stay so I could pretend I was twelve again, and that I had just fallen out of the tree…and not been shot by my ex-wife after I found out she murdered the love of my life.
“Just for a minute...”
He nodded and I closed my eyes, blinking back the tears.
“She’s gone, Liam.”
“Weston,” he whispers. “I need to get mom and dad.”
“Okay,” I agree. I’m in no position to put up a fight.
My mother and father come in, and instantly I feel like that little kid again. My mom cries and cradles my head in her arms. My dad chokes on his own emotions, and squeezes my hand.
“She’s gone, mom. Leah’s gone…”
“Shhh, baby.”
Even after all these years, having her call me that feels normal. She’s right though. I’m a baby. A big, thirty year old baby. I’m a broken fucking mess. I’m not even a man anymore.
Fucking Elsa should have aimed for my head.
***
I don’t have a home to go to. I haven’t owned anything since I shared a shell of a house with Elsa. I came back to New York with my parents once I was released from the hospital two days after I woke up.
My chest hurts. Not from the gunshot, either. From the gaping hole where my heart used to be.
My mother insisted on nursing me back to health. And my dad wouldn’t even consider the idea of lett
ing me stay alone somewhere. Not even with Liam, as he wouldn’t be home much.
My days are spent wallowing in my misery on the sofa, and crying myself to sleep at night. Yeah, that’s right. I cry, so what of it? I’m fucking broken. Shattered. I don’t know why God didn’t take me. My life means shit without Leah in it.
I tried calling Olivia one night. It was late, and I got into my dad’s stash of scotch. A small moment of weakness. I was glad when she didn’t answer the phone. Instead I babbled something incoherent into her mailbox and hung up before I said something really stupid.
Riley has even called. But I don’t want to talk to her. It only hurts even more.
“Andrew should be here soon, Weston. Do you want me to run you a bath?” Mom asks, untying her apron.
“No, mom. I don’t want you to run me a bath.” I force a smile, very tiny, smile. “I’m good.”
Andrew is coming to check on me. He’s the first one I’ve allowed to since I’ve been back. Josh wanted to come and see me. I wasn’t ready yet. I didn’t want to see him. Then again, Andrew just told me to fuck off, that he was coming regardless of what I told him.
I sat on the couch and flipped on the TV. “Shawshank Redemption” is on. As many times as I’ve seen this movie. It never gets old. A small comfort in my time of emptiness.
"And that also is very convenient, isn’t it, Mr. Dufresne?" District Attorney DeMunn rattled through the TV just as Andrew knocked on the front door.
I can’t see the door from here, but I hear my mother speaking softly, and then a deep voice. Andrew’s here, all right.
A small commotion makes me want to sit up, but I don’t. Andrew comes in and smiles. “Good to see you, buddy. How are you feeling today?”
“Fantastic,” I answer, keeping my eyes locked on the movie.
“Good movie. Tim Robbins is awesome.”
I nod. “What do you want, Drew?”
“I wanted to tell you something before you saw it on the news.”
“What?” I ask, still not looking at him, my voice clipped.
“That I found Sara.”
A commercial breaks, and I glance at Andrew. “Why would that be on the news?”
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