Don't Go Home

by Janelle Taylor

  How had he appeared so normal all these months? Norman was a model faculty member of Baywater Middle School, and the principal often spoke highly of him. The students like him, the principal had said. He’s patient with them. And he’s a wonderful teacher.

  She’d seen evidence of that, actually, during one of the vice principal’s more annoying ideas for staff development. Each teacher had had to sit in on another teacher’s class in an entirely different subject, and Mia had pulled Norman Newman’s name out of the hat. She’d watched two class periods, a seventh and eighth grade chemistry class, and with her own eyes she’d seen Norman relay complicated information in an engaging and patient manner. The students even laughed a few times at corny jokes he made; it had been clear to her that they did indeed like him, even if they considered him, to use Amy Farley’s term, a nerd.

  But he wasn’t a “nerd.” He was a crafty murderer.

  Norman scooted his chair closer to her. “Mia? So quiet! I must say that you look lovely tonight. Ravishing, really.”

  She swallowed. Should she humor him? Assure him that she’d gotten all dolled up for the assignment he’d hired her for?

  No—all the manila envelopes that had come for Margot had no return address, no name, no nothing. Norman had clearly wanted to remain anonymous, and if she let him know that she knew he was the one who’d hired “her,” it could ruin tonight’s entire operation.

  She should simply be herself, the Mia she always was with him—and the Mia she should be based on their last interaction. “I want you to know that I filed a complaint against you with the police,” she lied. “I have a restraining order. You’re not to come anywhere near me.”

  “But, Mia,” he said, dropping his gaze to her breasts. “I only want to apologize for my terrible behavior a couple of weeks ago. I’m really sorry for how I acted.”

  Mia’s hands shook, and she clasped them in her lap. “A restraining order means you can’t come within fifty feet of me, Norman.”

  He raised his gaze to her face, a hurt expression in his beady eyes. “But, Mia, isn’t my apology worth anything to you?”

  He was psychotic, she realized. Truly sick.

  Mia shuddered. What an actor he must be. To hide his psychosis so well, to carry on his teaching duties, parent-teacher conferences, mundane conversations in the faculty lounge. She’d never guessed that he was unhinged. She’d simply thought that he was annoying, a pest, socially inept. She’d never been so wrong.

  She didn’t understand why he’d been asking her out every Monday morning for the past six months when he believed that she was an undercover decoy. When he’d hired “her” four times to test the fidelity of other men.

  When he’d killed those men.

  Oh, God. Was it her fault that four men were dead? Had Norman killed them because they’d tried to pick her up when Norman wanted her for himself?

  No! No! That made no sense. Norman was the one who’d hired them to try to go out with her in the first place! But why? What drove him? Norman was a single man, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his parents had been happily married for thirty-five years before his father passed away from cancer two years ago. Mia and many other teachers at Baywater Middle School had gone to the funeral, and so many people had gotten up to eulogize his father, each mentioning what a loyal and devoted husband and father he was. His mother had been sobbing during the entire funeral, and afterward, at her home, she’d been inconsolable. Mia remembered Norman guiding her upstairs to rest.

  So if he wasn’t a victim of a philandering wife because he wasn’t married, and his parents weren’t philanderers, what would drive him to seek out married men, set them up to be tested by a decoy, and then kill them when they failed that test?

  And what was her connection to it all?

  Fact: he thought she was earning extra money as a decoy to supplement her teacher’s salary. Fact: he had a “crush” on her. But why hire her, though? Just to see her test the vows of married men? For what purpose? Why?

  She was back to square one. If he thought she was a decoy, why would he get so upset about seeing her in Center City bars with other men? He would know that she was only working, doing her job.

  Why are you trying to figure him out? she asked herself. He’s psychotic! What more do you need to know about how his mind works?

  Norman tilted his head and stared at her. “Mia, aren’t you going to accept my apology?”

  Panic slammed into her stomach. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to handle this?

  Why hadn’t she prepared for Norman Newman?

  Because you didn’t want to believe that he was the one, she realized, ashamed of herself. Just like Matthew didn’t want to believe that Laurie Gray was the killer. The difference is that Laurie is family to Matthew, the mother of his beloved nephew, and someone very special to him. You didn’t want Norman to be the killer because of how guilty it would make you feel.

  But she did feel guilty. Intellectually she understood what Matthew had meant when he said that no one was responsible for the actions of another person. But if it wasn’t for her, Norman wouldn’t have hired Margot. Wouldn’t have killed Robert Gray. Wouldn’t be preparing, unbeknownst to him at this point, to kill Matthew Gray.

  A sob rose in her throat, and Mia tamped it down.

  Where are you Matthew? Where are you?

  Norman was impatiently looking around Mac-Dougal’s. Making sure that Matthew hadn’t come back from the dead to challenge him? she wondered frantically.

  Stop it, she told herself. Stop it. Matthew is fine. He’s in disguise, and there’s no way that Norman could possibly have recognized him.

  “Where is the waitress,” Norman snapped, twisting his fleshy neck to look behind him. “The service in here is terrible! A waitress should have been over here to replace your drink, free of charge, the moment it spilled.”

  Mia breathed a sigh of relief. He was only looking for the cocktail waitress—not for Matthew.

  “That’s okay, Norman,” she told him. “I’m fine.”

  “No, no. I want that drink replaced now,” he responded.

  As Norman continued to look around, Mia dared a glance to her left and to her right, hoping to catch a glimpse of Matthew in her peripheral vision. But there was no sign of him.

  Norman turned to face her. “Ah, there she is, at that large table. I’m sure she’ll be over in a minute.”

  Mia nodded around the lump in her throat.

  “I don’t understand why you were so afraid of me when all I wanted was to share a cup of coffee with you,” Norman said. “I would never hurt you, Mia. Ever. I love you.”

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Her heart was racing so fast she was sure Norman could hear it. It was her fault. Norman had killed four men because he was in love with her.

  “But then that per-son had to come ruin our day,” Norman continued. He glanced around him again. “Where the hell is that waitress? I’ve been sitting here for at least five minutes and I haven’t been served and your drink has not been replaced!”

  Deep breath, Mia. Just relax. You’re in a public place. If he pulls out a weapon, two hundred people will help you. No one will get hurt.

  Oh God, please. Let no one get hurt.

  “Are you dating that man?” Norman asked, staring at her, his cold, beady eyes narrowing. “That he-man who barges into private motel rooms and destroys public property?”

  “We’re ... just friends, Norman,” she said.

  He began running his hands up and down his tie as he stared at her. “I don’t believe you.”

  She had no idea what the right answer was anymore. Was she supposed to try to soothe him, make him think she did like him the way she did in the Center City Motel?

  Wait a minute. Goad him. Make him angry. And then he’ll go after Matthew, you’ll call the police, and they’ll come and take Norman Newman away. He’ll never hurt anyone again.

  He’ll go after Matthew ...

  Fea
r gripped her again, and she fought against it. You’ve prepared for this, she reminded herself. It’s all planned down to the last detail. Trust in Matthew.

  She glanced up at Norman, forcing an aggressively sexual glint to her expression. She smiled coldly. “Actually, Norman, you’re right. I’m lying. I am dating him.”

  He looked as though he wanted to spit. “I thought so. I could tell by the way he was acting all possessive of you that day. And busting into my hotel room like that. I hope they made him pay.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they did,” she told him. “He’s very possessive. He hates it that I date other men.”

  Norman’s face brightened. “You date other men?”

  She wasn’t sure if that had been the right thing to say, but he seemed pleased all of a sudden. Perhaps he thought he had a chance.

  “Ah, yes, of course you do,” he said. “I’ve seen you with other men around the city.” His gaze dropped to her breasts and stayed there.

  Mia took that opportunity to glance around again, hoping, praying to spot Matthew.

  There he was! He was standing not two feet away from her table, behind Norman, and partially hidden by a rather large man. Matthew caught her gaze for a moment and nodded, as if to tell her that he was watching and that everything was okay. That she was doing exactly what she should be doing.

  Relief flooded through her, and her shoulders sagged.

  Of course you’re dating other people. I’ve seen you with other men around the city.... She didn’t get that. He knew that the men he’d seen her with in Center City bars were the men he’d targeted for death. The men he’d hired her to entice. Was he just playing a game with her? Or was he truly delusional—or whatever psychological term fit him?

  “Mia, you’re looking a bit tired,” Norman said. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m just fine,” she snapped. “I just had a late night last night.”

  His face fell. “That jerk you were with the other day?”

  Mia smiled. “No, someone else. A new guy I met a few days ago. I really like him.”

  “Oh,” Norman muttered, a pout forming on his fleshy lips.

  “I think he might even be the one,” Mia exclaimed. “I mean, things between us are amazing.”

  She glanced up at Matthew; he flashed her a thumbs up so quickly she wasn’t sure he’d done it at all.

  “Amazing?” Norman repeated.

  “A-ma-zing!” she confirmed with a sexual smile. “If you know what I mean.”

  Norman coughed. “Why will you date these other guys and not me?” he asked, running a hand through his wiry brown hair. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Why, nothing, Norman,” she told him. “You’re very ... nice. Just not my type.”

  His beady eyes narrowed. “Not your type?” he repeated coldly. “What is your type?”

  “Hmm ... that guy!” She pointed at Matthew, who walked up to the table as though he’d just arrived. He was sipping a tall drink that looked like vodka or gin, but was club soda.

  “Excuse me,” Matthew said, gesturing at the empty chair across from Mia. “Is that seat taken?”

  Norman glanced up at Matthew, annoyance in his beady eyes. “You can take it.”

  “Thanks, guy,” Matthew said and sat down, his gaze on Mia.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Norman asked, staring at Matthew as though he had four heads.

  “What?” Matthew asked, all innocence. “You just said I could take the seat.”

  Norman sputtered. “I thought you wanted the chair—to bring to another table or something.”

  “Why would I want to sit at a different table when the most beautiful woman in MacDougal’s is right here?” Matthew responded, looking Mia up and down.

  Mia blushed on cue and giggled.

  Norman glared at Mia, then stared at Matthew. “Well, you can’t sit there. We’re in the middle of a private conversation.”

  “Oh,” Matthew said. “Sorry. But there’s no other seats. Go ahead, talk. I won’t listen.”

  Steam was coming out of Norman’s ears. He was glaring at Matthew with an expression that Mia had never seen before. Beyond hatred.

  Don’t be scared, she told herself. You’re safe. Matthew is safe. Norman is going to be locked up very soon. Just do what you have to do. Follow Matthew’s lead.

  “We’re having a conversation here,” Norman snapped at Matthew. “Do you mind?” It wasn’t a question.

  Matthew smirked. “Yes, I do. Sorry, buddy. Why don’t you take a hike?”

  Norman’s face turned beet red. He glared at Matthew, then turned his attention to Mia. “Do you believe this jerk?” Norman asked Mia.

  “Oh, Norman, don’t be like that,” Matthew taunted. “Why don’t we ask the lady who she’d prefer to sit with and talk to.”

  Norman looked to Mia. “Well, Mia?”

  “Norman, look, I accept your apology, okay? I think our conversation is over.”

  “So I guess I’m dismissed,” Norman hissed, a vein popping out of his neck.

  “Guess so, guy,” Matthew said in a singsong voice. “The lady hath chosen.”

  Matthew crossed his arms over his chest and laughed.

  Norman’s eyes settled on the gold wedding ring on Matthew’s finger, and his mouth fell open. “He’s married, for God’s sake!” Norman sputtered. “Is nothing sacred to you, Mia? If not the sanctity of marriage, what about setting an example for your students?”

  “Oh, Norman, please,” Mia said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

  Norman looked as though she’d slapped him. “I’m appalled. Absolutely appalled.”

  Mia giggled. “C’mon, Norman—don’t be such a fuddy-duddy!”

  “Yeah, Norman,” Matthew said. “Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy.”

  Norman stared at Matthew, hatred and rage darkening his beady blue eyes. Then he looked at Mia with contempt and stood up.

  “Leaving after all, buddy boy?” Matthew asked. “I was hoping you’d stay.”

  Norman shoved his chair under the table so hard that people around them turned to look. “I don’t like you,” he said to Matthew. “I don’t like you at all.”

  “Should I cry here or when I get home?” Matthew replied. He chugged his drink and signaled the waitress for another.

  Norman ignored Matthew and turned his attention to Mia. “And you. You are just a continual disappointment, Mia.”

  “Norman!” Mia chided. “Why so serious?”

  Norman shook his head. “I really feel sorry for you, Mia. But I feel the sorriest for your students. I’ll be sure and discuss your behavior with Principal Ashton.”

  “Run along, scout,” Matthew taunted, slinging an arm around Mia. “I’d like to get to know this lovely lady a lot better.”

  Norman stared at Matthew for a long moment, then turned and stalked away.

  “Where’s he going?” Mia whispered to Matthew. “What if he leaves? We won’t be able to prove anything!”

  “I doubt he’s going anywhere,” Matthew assured her. “He’s probably just going to the bar to cool off.”

  Sure enough, Mia watched Norman retreat to the bar and squeeze in between two women. He said something to the blonde and gestured at the stool between her and her friend. The blonde glanced at him, rolled her eyes, then removed her purse from the stool. Giving the woman a dirty look, he picked up the stool, carried it over to the L-shaped portion of the bar and sat down, then glanced over at Mia. She realized he wanted to put himself in position to watch her and Matthew.

  She let out the breath she’d been holding.

  “You all right?” Matthew whispered.

  She nodded. “Where were you before?” she asked. “I was so scared he’d gotten to you. I didn’t see you anywhere, then saw him, and I panicked.”

  Matthew adjusted his glasses. “I’d spotted him earlier, and he was moving around a lot, so I was just keeping an eye on him. He was standing by the bar earlier, staring at you,
and I wanted to be able to watch him without being seen; so I moved behind him.”

  “I was so scared,” she repeated, her voice trembling.

  “I’m sorry, Mia,” he whispered. “But I’m all right. And I will be all right. We both will be. We’re going to get him, okay? In a little while, the police are going to take him away, and it’s all going to be over.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

  He covered her hand with his own, the hand with the wedding ring. It was so shiny that it gleamed in the low-lit nightclub. “We’ve got to put on a show for him, Mia. Piss him off royally. Put him in a very bad mood.”

  “Oh, I think you took care of that, Matthew.”

  “You didn’t do too badly yourself,” he told her with a smile. “Look, Newman’s moving again. Probably wants to position himself so he can hear our conversation.”

  Mia glanced at Norman. He was struggling to move the bar stool to the corner of the L-shape so that he could both see Mia and Matthew and hear their conversation.

  Matthew reached up with his left hand and caressed her cheek, then scooted his chair even closer and kissed her full on the mouth. Mia closed her eyes and gave in to the kiss, allowing herself to forget for a moment that Matthew was playing a role. His lips were warm and soft, and he smelled so good, like man and soap. As he broke the kiss, she slowly opened her eyes and gazed into his.

  His dark blue eyes smoldered with desire. Mia inched closer to him and softly pressed her lips to his. She touched his cheek, cupping his jaws with both hands and putting everything she had into the kiss.

  She wasn’t acting. She wondered if he could tell.

  Jesus, Mia, you’re not supposed to seem like a woman in love! she chided herself. Norman might actually “approve” of the depth of her emotion and soften. She had to act as though she was only interested in a good time, all too happy to “put out” and satisfy her married lover.

  Mia pulled back from the kiss and giggled. “Yum-yum,” she cooed. “Did I ever tell you you’re the best kisser?”