The Woman In the Mirror: (A Psychological Suspense Novel) (Alexandra Mallory Book 1)

by Cathryn Grant

  “Keenwah.”

  “What?”

  “It’s pronounced keenwah, not kwinoah.”

  “See, teaching me again.” She tipped her head to the side and lifted her hair back behind her shoulder with her left hand. “I added shredded carrots. It’s not a breakfast food, but I thought the orange looked pretty, and some green onions, and mushrooms and avocado.”

  It sounded delicious, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t let her insert herself into his life with niceness. She seemed to think persistence was the key to taking ownership of his heart.

  She came around the counter and took hold of his wrist. He pulled his arm away but she tightened her grip until it felt as if thick ropes bound his wrist to hers. “You hurt my feelings when you didn’t let me into your room,” she said softly. Her eyes were wider than usual, the white visible around the pale gray iris.

  “I was trying to sleep.”

  “I’m crazy about you.” She tightened her grip.

  He glared at her.

  “Why won’t you give me a chance?”

  The smell of burning food, probably tofu bacon, wafted toward them. The food sizzling in the pan now gave off a dry, crackling sound.

  “You better get that pan off the stove.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “My breakfast is burned.”

  He tugged his arm.

  Instead of releasing him, she turned and walked to the stove, forcing him to stumble along behind her.

  “Please let go of me.”

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “So you’re going to take me prisoner? You can’t force someone to talk to you.”

  “Or to like you,” she whimpered. “You don’t even know me and you’ve decided you don’t like me.”

  “It’s not that.”

  She turned the flame off and lifted the pan onto a cold burner. His left forearm and elbow felt slightly numb. She was cutting off the circulation.

  “What is it then?” she said.

  “I don’t want a relationship right now.” It was a mistake to lie. Once Noreen found out that he and Alexandra were together, she might lose it entirely. But telling her the truth wouldn’t go well, and he wasn’t in the mood. The sun wasn’t even up. He’d let things progress with Alexandra and then they could find another place to live. Noreen could figure it out after the fact.

  “Is it because I’m not Buddhist?”

  He laughed.

  “It’s hard for me to like a fat bald guy when I have Jesus.”

  “That’s not it at all.”

  “Then there is something!” She cried out as if she’d discovered he was hiding gems inside his meditation cushion. “Why won’t you tell me? I’d be willing to try Buddhism. I’m cooking without meat. And animal products.”

  “I don’t need you cooking for me.”

  “Every man wants a woman to cook for him.”

  “Where did you get that idea?”

  “That’s how it is.”

  “Noreen. Let go of my wrist. I need to get going.”

  “I would make you so happy. Have you ever been in love? It’s more blissful than yoga or any of that other stuff.”

  “I don’t want a relationship right now.” He twisted his arm. Her grip tightened. “You’re not making me like you, grabbing me, refusing to let go. I’m going to be late.”

  “How can you be late at five a.m. in the morning?”

  He looked away to hide his smirk. “I just am.”

  The sizzling in the pan had stopped. From the corner of his eye he saw the tofu bacon, black and withered. The mushrooms were equally dark.

  “Why don’t you want a woman in your life? That’s a little weird, don’t you think?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Is there someone already?”

  “Maybe.”

  She let go of his wrist. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t have to explain my life.”

  “Well you didn’t mention it when we were chatting…the day you came to look at the place.”

  He shrugged. He rubbed his wrist bone but the movement irritated the skin and made his fingers feel numb again. “Sorry about your breakfast.” He took a few steps back.

  “Is it her?”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t have a girlfriend when you moved in here. I can tell. I can sense when a guy is available. And now, you act like you do. Is it Alexandra?”

  “I don’t want to talk to you about this.”

  “Is it?” She moved closer. She folded her arms and jutted out her chin. She didn’t blink. Her lips were pinched, working hard to prevent the contorted features that came with crying.

  He blinked several times. “I want you to leave me alone. Stop cooking for me and stop asking personal questions. If you don’t, I’ll have to look for another place.” He immediately regretted saying it. Until things solidified with Alexandra, he couldn’t possibly look for another place. If he left Noreen’s bungalow, he might never see Alex again.

  19

  Los Angeles

  When Tom took off with Lisa, leaving nothing but the contents of her stomach in a rank puddle, I stood in the carport for several minutes. I thought about getting in my car, but had no idea where he might have gone. Our living situation was tense enough and now he’d escalated it into something potentially violent. It was baffling that he’d suddenly turned on her after mostly ignoring her. The vomit stank of Lisa’s terror.

  I walked back to the apartment. Randy was slumped on the couch and Dianne’s bedroom door was closed. The lake of batter on the carpet was forming a skin.

  “Where are they?” Randy said.

  I shrugged. “His car’s gone.” I slumped beside him and propped my feet against the edge of the coffee table.

  Randy draped his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close.

  He put his hand on my ear, stroking the lobe.

  “She threw up in the carport,” I said.

  “That’s not cool.”

  We sat there, staring at the wall, not talking.

  No matter how unjust the financial arrangement, I didn’t want our shared housing to blow up in my face. It was clear who wouldn’t escape the shrapnel — all three of us would be homeless. Part of me was furious with Lisa. If she hadn’t let Tom see how he’d gotten under her skin, he might have stopped his assault on her dignity. It’s not that it was her fault, far from it, but guys like that are encouraged when they see weakness or fear. It spurs their need to ensure their victims see how powerful they are. Their enflamed egos won’t let them back down. If they do, everyone will understand they’re just as afraid — afraid of the beast living inside of them.

  About fifteen minutes later, Dianne came out of her bedroom wearing a black bikini, carrying a beach towel and sunscreen. “Where’s Tom?”

  Randy lifted his arm off my shoulders. “He took off with Lisa.”

  She looked at the slop on the carpet. “Who’s going to clean this up?”

  We stared at her.

  “Well it certainly won’t be me,” she said.

  We continued staring at her.

  “What did she do to get him all riled up?” Dianne said.

  “She didn’t do anything,” I said. “He’s a bully.”

  “He is not. He’s very gentle. A little sensitive, if you want to know the truth. Did she hurt his feelings?”

  “How much are you gouging him for?” Randy said.

  “It’s not gouging and it’s none of your business.” Dianne dropped her towel on the floor and kicked it out of her way. She put her foot on the edge of the dining table and squirted a long, white ribbon of sunscreen up her shinbone, across her kneecap, and along her thigh. She placed the tube on the table and began rubbing the sunscreen into her skin. The scent of coconut filled the room, a thick, cloying odor that mingled with waffle batter and made the room smell like a candy shop filled with rotting treats.

  I dragged my feet off the coffee table and stood up. �
��Where do you think he took her? She was so scared she puked in the carport.”

  “That’s gross,” Dianne said.

  “Did he text you?”

  Dianne held up her hands, displaying the white cream smeared across her palms. “I can’t be checking text messages, dummy.”

  “Aren’t you going to do anything?” I said.

  She wiped her hands across her ribs to remove excess lotion and picked up the tube, running a ribbon up her other leg. “What do you expect me to do?”

  “He basically kidnapped her.”

  “Basically?”

  Even if Dianne didn’t care about Lisa getting bullied, why didn’t she care that her boyfriend had gone off somewhere with another woman?

  “Why is he doing this?” I said.

  “How should I know.”

  “And you don’t care?”

  “It sounds like she upset him.”

  “Exactly the opposite,” I said.

  “That’s your perspective, which we all know is distorted.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She waved her hand in Randy’s direction. “Him.”

  “What?” I walked around the table.

  “You had sex with him to try to hurt me,” Dianne said. “That’s sick.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  She gave me a look that was supposed to imply she could see through my lies. “Lisa was disrespectful of me. Both of you are. I should have kicked you out ages ago.”

  “But our money is so sweet.”

  “I’m just too soft-hearted. I don’t want to see people without a place to live.”

  Behind me, Randy snorted with laughter.

  “So you knew he was going to take her somewhere? What’s he doing?” I said.

  “I really have no idea.” Dianne picked up her towel. She left the open tube of sunscreen on the table, grabbed her bag, and went to the door. “I’m going to nap in the sun. All the noise woke me up too early and I’m sleepy.” She went out, slamming the door behind her.

  I turned and stared at Randy.

  He stood up and came around the table. He put his hands on my hips and let his fingers creep under my shirt. He slid his hands up my ribs and over my breasts. He massaged them gently. “Should we try to find Lisa?” he said, not sounding at all like he wanted to look for her.

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  We started kissing while he continued holding onto my breasts. My thoughts that I should help Lisa, that I was somehow responsible for her, slipped to the back of my mind and then disappeared altogether. After a while, we went into the bedroom and made love despite our unwashed bodies. We fell asleep and when we woke up an hour later, I was starving. Randy’s back was facing me. I kissed his spine and ran my finger down the knobs, which gave me a sudden and obvious craving for ribs. I wriggled up and kissed his neck. “I’m hungry.”

  He grunted and moved slightly. I wasn’t sure if it was a dream grunt or he was answering my question. I tapped his shoulder. “I’m very hungry. Should we make something or do you want to grab burgers?”

  He turned on his back. “Burgers.”

  I got up and pulled on my jeans and tank top. I slid into a pair of leather flip-flops, bent over and ran my fingers through my hair, then raised my upper body quickly, flipping my hair over my shoulders and down my back.

  “I love it when you do that,” he said. He yawned.

  I picked up my purse. “Hungry. I’m really hungry.” I pulled out my phone. “It’s twelve-fifteen.”

  “I wonder if Tom’s back,” he said. He got up and dressed, grabbed his wallet, and opened the bedroom door. The apartment was silent. We were greeted with the fighting smells of sunscreen and waffle batter. He wrinkled his nose. He walked to the sliding glass door, opened it, and stepped out onto the balcony. A moment later he came back inside. “Dianne’s still out there sunning herself.”

  “Let’s go eat before I pass out.”

  In the carport, the vomit had attracted several flies. It looked as if someone had stepped in it. I shuddered and steered a wide path around it.

  We ate burgers and drank beer at a place with an outdoor patio. We didn’t return to the apartment until close to dinner time. The vomit was still there, hard and dry. Likewise, the waffle batter and the opened tube of sunscreen. The apartment was empty and Dianne wasn’t by the pool.

  It seemed as if we should do something, but neither of us could figure out what that might be. We took a shower and crawled into bed, made love, and fell asleep.

  I dreamt I was looking for Lisa, but the faces of all the women I saw were blurred and I couldn’t tell which one was her, if any of them were.

  20

  Aptos

  Jared stayed out until after midnight, practicing yoga in one of the smaller rooms at the Meditation Center and then sitting on his matt, back against the wall, reading an article about global warming. It was ridiculous to be paying for a room but having no place to go — hanging out in coffee shops and the public library and the Meditation Center all day and into the evening. He couldn’t even sit on the beach because he was overcome with an irrational fear that Noreen would look over the deck railing, see him, and run down to join him.

  This wasn’t what he’d planned when he chose this place. It had seemed idyllic, perched on the cliff — a spectacular view, secluded from surrounding homes. It had been weeks since he sat on the deck and gazed mindlessly at the ocean or closed his eyes and listened to the blend of song birds and shore birds, their cries carrying on the breeze. The vegetable garden remained a bed of infertile dirt overrun with rocks. He wanted the pleasure of working in the earth, eating things he’d grown himself, but he wasn’t allowed to eat in his own home. Noreen dictated what meals were served, and her effort to modify recipes to suit him didn’t matter, she was still in charge.

  The house was dark. Both women were in their rooms. He went into his room and closed and locked the door. He turned on the light. Dark flecks of wax dotted the top of his bookcase. He hoped it wouldn’t leave discolored spots on the wood when he scraped it off.

  The meditation cushion was where he’d left it near the edge of the small rug. His bed was made, slightly rumpled, also as he’d left it, but something felt off — a smell, maybe. He took a deep breath. It had been nearly two weeks since he’d done laundry. Dirty clothes sitting in the basket, the door closed all day, never anyone around to open the window and let in fresh air. He needed to get to that tomorrow. He’d spend the morning at a laundromat rather than risk an encounter with Noreen and an offer to wash and fold his clothes.

  The smell seemed more potent, more foul than unwashed clothes. He yanked the blankets off the bed. They looked clean enough and no additional odor wafted up from the sheets. He opened the closet door. The laundry basket sat on one side, everything else was in order. He went to the window, turned the lock, and pushed the window up. The wood frame refused to slide further than a third of the way. It was enough for a cool, damp smelling breeze. Better, but the odor was still there.

  He knelt on the floor and looked under the bed. A small lump sat halfway back from the edge of the frame. He pushed the comforter onto the bed so he could get a better look. It was still too dark. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He turned on the flashlight and directed the beam under the bed.

  Tiny eyes stared at him. There was a dead animal — a rat? It was tangled in a piece of pink fabric. Alexandra’s missing thong. He’d forgotten it was there. He backed away and stood up. He went to the closet and pulled a shirt off a wire hanger. He untwisted the neck of the hanger and straightened it. He knelt on the floor, his phone beside him. The beam pointed at the ceiling but cast enough light under the bed for him to see. He grabbed the poor dead thing with the hook and pulled it toward him. It was a smallish dark gray rat. He shuddered.

  In the kitchen he found a box of plastic bags. He yanked one out and returned to his room. He used the hanger to nudge the corpse into the bag,
taking the thong with it, and sealed the edge, pressing to make sure the plastic strip secured along the entire length.

  Outside, he buried it in the garbage can beneath several lumpy plastic trash bags so Noreen wouldn’t see the pink thong wrapped around the dead animal.

  After he’d cleaned beneath the bed with disinfectant, he climbed into it fully clothed, exhausted. He closed his eyes. The room still felt different. Had a rodent changed the atmosphere so dramatically that he was left feeling someone had entered and distorted his space? The staring eyes of the rat, filmy with days of death, flickered through his mind. Was it possible Noreen had been in his room? Had she left the corpse for him to find? He wasn’t sure why he thought such a thing, but the more he pictured the rat, the more he felt it hadn’t just dropped dead on Alexandra’s thong. He turned on his side and tried to quiet his thoughts but it took a long time for sleep to consume his mind.

  21

  Unlike any other unattached guy on the entire planet, Jared had informed me he wasn’t into one night stands. He believed we were now in a relationship and we needed to be up front with Noreen. I wasn’t telling Noreen anything, and I had to figure out how to paint a realistic picture for him.

  So far, we’d had three conversations on the topic. The first two were teasing, joking around, with an undercurrent of what is wrong with you? coming from Jared. Next, he asked me out to dinner and I declined. He asked me out for coffee. I declined. He came up behind me when I was brushing my teeth, the bathroom door not fully closed. He put his mouth close to my ear so I could feel his breath inside my head. When I shivered, he invited me to go away overnight. I spit out toothpaste, and declined.

  The third and most recent conversation had scared me a little. I got out of my car, hit the remote to lock it, and started toward the side door of my office building.

  “Alexandra!”

  The volume of someone shouting at full force traveled across the parking lot. I turned. Jared was striding across the pavement, weaving between cars, breaking into a jog when he reached unoccupied spaces. The sun was coming up over the top of the building and it hit directly at his eyes. He squinted and slowed his pace. So much for keeping my work life fenced off from my roommates.