by Theo Baxter
She hesitated, which made me right. "I know that's asking a lot of you, Mr. Andros."
You have no idea. "It's okay, Detective. I'll do it. I'm happy to help," I blurted out, reassuring her before I changed my mind.
Yeah, I was freaking ecstatic that I would be trying to schmooze a serial killer who was kind of obsessed with me in the past.
"Thank you, Mr. Andros," she replied with genuine gratitude in her voice. "And I promise, you will not be alone in this. I will help you every step of the way."
I had to admit I found that reassuring.
"Can we meet up tomorrow to plan all the details?" I asked, all the while shaking my head in disbelief. I was actually doing this.
"Certainly."
Dean, you are an idiot, I informed myself as though I weren’t aware of that fact before. I just agreed to help the detective with the murder cases. It was true I would benefit greatly if we could prove Melissa's guilt, but there was just one tiny problem. I wasn't a detective who was trained to go undercover. I was a professor who'd clearly lost his mind.
I couldn't believe I’d agreed to entrap Melissa. She was a couple of steps ahead of me from the moment I met her. I was clearly not her match.
Maybe that was the reason this stupid plan could actually work. Melissa would never see it coming. She possessed the confidence that she was smarter than all of us. Perhaps I could exploit that. After all, now I knew who she really was and could play to her weaknesses.
Could I do this? Detective Michaels clearly thought so, and who was I to contradict a professional? The simplest question was actually the hardest one to answer, as always—how was I going to make Melissa talk to me about such things?
It was true we had been in a heated affair, except afterward, we were at war, doing pretty much everything to destroy one another, and let's face it, she won. Framing me for my father's murder was game over. How was I to recover from that? How was I to get close to her again, let alone make her talk about her past? It sounded like an impossible task to achieve, yet I was determined to find a way.
The only way I could get what I wanted from her, a full confession, was to give her what she wanted in return. What if she doesn't want you anymore, asshole? I had a moment of doubt. Based on her behavior, I knew she would eat up everything I served her if I played it exactly right.
And the main course would have to be me, of course. I felt disgusted by the mere thought of being with her again. Suck it up, I snapped at myself, banishing those thoughts for now. I will cross that bridge when I have to. It was easier to think that way.
There was still a good chance she would simply tell me to fuck off and not take the bait. For that not to happen, I had to make sure the offer was super sweet, tempting. If I wanted to get Melissa to admit to anything we could use against her, then I had to exploit her obsession with me to the fullest.
While she was blackmailing me, it became more than apparent that she was obsessed with getting me obsessed with her all over again. It became obvious that she craved to be the object of everyone's desires, to be worshiped.
If I managed to achieve that, convince her I was her slave, then I supposed I had a chance to learn something useful. The key was to make her lower her guard.
I really hoped I could act like an Oscar winner to make her believe in all this because everything was on the line here. My whole future depended on my performance. But no pressure.
Unfortunately, I was at a big disadvantage at the moment. My father was killed, and with me being charged for his murder, Melissa had a clear shot of inheriting every cent of my father's estate. The mere thought of it gave me stomach pains. That only motivated me further.
In other words, Melissa had no real reason to want or need me back in her life. If her plan was to sell and dash like before, then I would only be in her way, and she wouldn't like that.
I had to find a way to get back into her life that wouldn't raise any suspicions. That would only work if she fully believed she had some use for me. Now I understood how her mind worked.
She was a sociopath through and through. The personal gain was all that mattered. Basically, I needed to make myself appear vulnerable enough—show I had some feelings for her, though I was trying really hard to get rid of them—to tempt her to exploit me anew.
It sounded simple enough. It wasn't. Trying to manipulate a manipulator was the hardest thing in the world. I wasn't sure even that would work. Would I be a prize enough now when it appeared she was about to get all she wanted? That was a true conundrum.
I really hope so.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I was surprised when Steven called and asked me to resume teaching my online classes. Part of my brain stopped working at that. I couldn't fathom why he would want something like that.
Is he living under a rock? I thought. There was no way he didn’t watch the news. Even if he hadn't, I sent him an email as soon as I was able, apologizing for everything and expressing hope that I hadn't caused permanent damage to the reputation of his site. That would pain me if people dropped from other tutorials because of me. And then he called.
When he expressed his wish, my first thought was that he was making a mistake, and the second was that he had an agenda. And that saddened me that I became so cynical as to not see true kindness in people. He was a good man. Steven offered me a job when no one else would. The least I could do now was listen to what he had to say.
"Why are you doing this, Steven?" I asked, not so subtly. I figured there was no point in beating around the bush.
"Because you're a good teacher."
"You know my trial is coming up."
"Yes, but I know you, Professor. There's no way you did it, and based on the comments on the site, your students believe in your innocence as well."
What? "Really?" I heard myself say.
"Absolutely," he replied without a thought. "We're all on your side, Professor."
To say I was humbled and touched would be putting it mildly. I could feel tears forming inside my eyes, and I hadn't cried since my mother died.
"Thank you for that, I really appreciate it." More than he could ever know.
"No problem. So, what do you say?"
Of course, I accepted. That was the least I could do to respond to all his kindness, and besides, I needed to face the facts. I required money, now more than ever. My mother's inheritance would soon be depleted from covering my legal expenses, and I would be left with nothing.
And that was the preferable outcome if I were proven innocent. If I were to be convicted, then I was completely screwed, left with nothing, with a ruined life and a nonexistent future. Don't think like that.
The game wasn't over yet. I had full confidence that Mr. Branson would do his best to prove my innocence if my case ended up at trial, and in the meantime, I would do my best to unveil the true killer, Melissa, with a little help from Detective Michaels.
That was a lot of uncertainty regarding my life and its path, so it was no wonder I was constantly stressed. I even upped my medications on my own in fear that I would start seizing all the time. That was something I couldn't afford, especially not now, when my life was on the line. I knew that was a big gamble, that I was further compromising my health, but at the moment, I found it was unavoidable.
Not even such good news as the fact that I hadn't lost my job could clear my mood or cheer me up. I was grateful for sure, but I was troubled as well. I was plagued with thoughts of Melissa. She was my biggest worry because everything depended on my managing to defeat her.
I spent all my waking moments trying to form a plan on how to stop that woman from walking away with all my father's money. At the moment, it appeared as though she'd already won, but I wasn't about to give up that easily.
In those first moments, I had honestly believed that I had killed my father, but since then, I'd learned a great deal and started suspecting who the real culprit, the real evil mastermind to all this, was. Melissa. I had to bring her dow
n no matter what. She couldn't win. She couldn't kill my father then claim all that was his as her own.
It sounded awful, heartless, yet I needed that money more than her. Are you sure? She killed for it, after all. Her reasoning didn't matter to me.
The point was, that money was mine. It belonged to me by blood. More to the point, I earned it, Goddammit. For all the torment, pain, and sorrows that bastard put me through, he owed me that much. A comfortable life for the rest of my life.
Sadly, it wasn't up to Carson Andros who would get his money. It was kind of ironic how that control freak didn't have the last say. In reality, it was all up to me. The future depended on my being able to stop Melissa.
After all I'd been through, I still had to come to terms that I wasn't out of the woods yet. The tunnel was long and dark and the light far away from me, and I continued to march toward it. I couldn't give up because that would mean a life in prison, which was something I couldn't accept as my fate. I refused to accept that as my future.
At the same time, if I managed to find the end of this tunnel, I was realistic enough to accept the fact that I would never be able to go back to teaching college-level classes. Even if I were to prove my innocence, I was sure that door was closed to me.
And being a part-time teacher online wasn't enough for a decent living. That was simply not enough to pay all my medical expenses or pay all my debts. Not to mention something like that was not nearly enough to support a hypothetical family one day. If I decided to have a family in the first place.
Part of me craved something like that. It was only human. All the same, what was truly unbearable to me was the idea of passing these cursed genes to another innocent being. I wouldn't wish my life to anyone, especially not to my own child.
I banished all these thoughts, not only because they were too difficult to deal with but because they were worries for some future date. If I had a future in the first place. I would deal with them then. And of course, if I did manage to prove my innocence and Melissa's guilt, maybe I wouldn't have to worry about money anymore, anyway. I'd have my father's money unless the she-devil had already managed to get her hands on it somehow.
To ensure I had that chance, I had to deal with Melissa. The mere thought of that woman made my blood boil.
The notion that damned woman who tampered with my medications seduced and blackmailed me, then set me up to kill my father while in an out-of-control state, would be getting all of my father's money while I rotted in jail was infuriating. I couldn't allow something like that to happen. And that had nothing to do with wanting to avenge my father. As far as I was concerned, he got exactly what he deserved.
This was between Melissa and me. This war didn't start because of me, but I wasn't backing out of it. I would rather die like my father than let her win. The idea that she could get away with another murder, collecting all my father's wealth in the process, enraged me to the highest levels, which was a bad thing considering what happened to me when I was overly emotional.
There was no telling what I would do next if I seized now. She made a murderer out of me, or at least tried to. It was still unclear what the real truth was. I was sure she knew, but she would never willingly tell me.
The knowledge that I might be responsible for my father's murder was something I would have to live with for the rest of my life unless I could prove she did it. It didn't matter if I were incarcerated or not. That fact remained the same.
Since I couldn't banish all these thoughts from my head, I sought professional help. I needed to do that so I could successfully play my part—seduce her, try to entrap her, and make her confess everything. That was of course, easier said than done, but I knew Dr. Blake would help me with my problems.
"I know this isn't what you want to hear, but all the business regarding Melissa is absolutely terrible," she told me.
And I completely understood how she felt because I felt the same. I too believed this was horrible without measure and at times had trouble believing this was my reality.
"I know," I replied.
"I mean, I knew something was off with her. I suspected she suffered from a serious psychological disorder or two, had daddy issues, things like that, but not this."
Who in their right mind would think she was a serial killer? A suspected serial killer, I corrected myself. I still needed proof. This could all turn out to be nothing but a fantasy born out of desperation because I couldn't handle the simplest truth, that I was the real killer. More to the point, no matter that her previous sins were proven true or false, there was the big issue of her current sins.
One thing kept bothering me about it. Even if she killed her previous husbands, that didn't automatically mean she killed her current one as well. It would be highly unlikely but possible. Changing my meds was proof enough that she planned on my doing it. Did I, or didn't I?
There were too many unknowns in this story, and there was only one person who could shed some light on everything. Melissa had spun a brilliant web of lies, and I was completely lost in it. That made me not only desperate but angry as well.
"I have to admit, Dr. Blake, thinking of her and all she did makes me so enraged I feel I could spit fire."
She made a face, and I knew she wasn't too pleased with my train of thoughts. At the moment, I didn't care. I had to share everything that was pressing me so I wouldn't explode.
"If Detective Michaels hadn't asked for my help, I would still do everything in my power to take her down." Those were the depths of my desire for revenge. Melissa was a terrible being and she needed to be stopped.
Dr. Blake thought about her next words before sharing them. "Although I am relieved you finally have the evidence you needed to know for sure that you didn't kill your father, and while acknowledging it is completely understandable that you feel like this at the moment, I have to tell you, Dean, you have to resist this urge for revenge. It never ends well," she warned. "Seeking justice is the only path you should be taking at the moment."
Despite her good-natured advice, I knew I couldn't listen. Too much shit went down for me to simply turn the other cheek or walk away and wait for the detectives to clear my name. I craved blood, and I was determined to have my revenge no matter the cost.
Chapter Thirty-Five
On some level, I knew Dr. Blake was right, that her advice about how I should not be taking the darker path was reasonable. I understood that I needed to approach this rationally and seek justice, not revenge, for the sake of my soul and sanity.
I couldn't do that. Melissa used me and in the worst possible way. To get my father's money, she was even prepared to kill him then frame me for it. And that wasn't her first time, if I were to trust Detective Michaels.
For all her present and past crimes, I would watch her take a fall with relish. More to the point, I needed to be the one who contributed to her demise like she contributed to mine. An eye for an eye.
Who are you to act as judge, jury, and executioner? a small part of me questioned, but I banished that silly voice. I had every right because she messed with me, killed my father, and tried to steal what was mine, and to me, it was as simple as that.
As promised, I met with the detective. This was the first time I'd left my hotel room in a while. It felt good being in the fresh air for a change, and the coffee I ordered in a coffee shop was divine.
We converged to try and come up with some kind of a plan. I couldn't simply go home and ask Melissa why she drowned one of her husbands. Something like that wouldn't work.
"How are you going to approach her?" Detective Michaels asked, clearly hoping that I'd managed to come up with something.
Unfortunately, I hadn't. I stayed up all night, and I had a lot of ideas, but the problem with them was that I believed they were all shitty.
"I don't have a clue. If I lie too much, I fear she will see right through me."
"Then don't lie," the detective surprised me by saying.
"Excuse me?"
; "Tell the truth," she said with a small shrug.
I gave her the look. That couldn't work, The notion was ridiculous.
"Up to a point, of course. Best lies reside in truths."
"What do you mean?" How was that going to work? If I wanted to get close to her to learn the truth about her previous husbands, if she had them in the first place, then that was the last thing I should be saying to her.
"Tell her you're afraid of going to prison."
All right, I see what she did there. It was true that I was afraid, and maybe I could use that truth to sell a few lies. I can definitely work with that.
"Tell her you desperately need her help to learn the truth about what happened." She continued to offer examples.
I had to admit I liked it. It was simple and effective. Part of me started wondering how Detective Michaels became such an effective liar, but I refrained from asking.
"Okay, I'll do as you suggested. I'll seek her help, and hopefully, she'll say yes."
"It's imperative that you meet with her to speak face to face."
I nodded. "I understand."
"In the meantime, I'll look into the old cases," the detective provided in return.
"What's your approach?" I asked with interest.
"I'll take copies of Melissa's fingerprints from the scene evidence and run them against old unsolved cases, and hopefully, I'll get a match."
Maybe we'll get lucky that way and I won't have to go undercover. That would be preferable since I dreaded confronting a serial killer. You're not that lucky, I informed myself glumly, yet I refused to give up hope.
"Let's pray that will be the case," I said.
After talking more, we both went our separate ways. I returned to my hotel room and the detective returned to the police station.
Although it was my idea for us to divide and conquer, I wished the detective were by my side as I made this phone call. Overreacting much? I didn't think so. It all depended on my being able to pull this off.