I stared at the machine for a long time, the pounding of my heart the only sound in the now silent room. I stared and stared and stared.
The sadness I’d felt when I’d heard her first message had completely disappeared, I realized. It was gone and had been replaced with something not quite as identifiable. Something darker and deeper. Something more hostile. Something full of spite.
The something inside sparked hotter and soon it was fury, red and hot and blazing through me. My breathing quickened and my hands balled into fists, my fingernails digging into my palms as my ire became an inferno.
Then I couldn’t contain it anymore.
With an angry sweep of my arms, I shoved the machine on the floor, letting out a low, guttural sound of pain and rage.
“‘Let me go’?” I shouted bitterly to the empty room, to her ghost. “How dare you!” It was shitty when she’d done it to me the first time.
To do it to me twice?
And the way which she’d decided to cut ties – to take her own life because she couldn’t have the man she wanted – it was manipulative and selfish. And mean.
I just can’t be around to see it happen.
“What you really mean was you couldn’t stand to see me win!” Again, I yelled to the room. “Were you really that sore a loser? That you’d rather kill yourself than deal with trying to put your life back together?” Instead she’d left me to put my life back together. Left me to pick up the pieces and grieve and be the one who lost.
Rage propelled me up, and I stood so quickly my chair knocked over. “God, you were such a selfish bitch.” The tears returned, partly because I was that mad and partly because I’d still loved her, no matter how egocentric and mean she’d been. “Selfish and conniving. You knew that killing yourself would ruin anything I had with Reeve. You might have done this for me, but it wasn’t to give me a gift. You wanted to make sure I didn’t have him either.”
I swiped at my cheeks, pissed at my tears, pissed that I couldn’t say all of this to her face. Pissed that she got the last fucking word.
“You know what? No.” I paced the room with furious strides as I spoke. “You don’t get the last word. I do. You can’t let me go. You’re dead, and you can’t do anything to me anymore. But I’m still here, and I can let you go.” I laughed, an acidic choked laugh that might have been just a variation of a sob. “Did you hear that? I let you go. You don’t get to have a hold on me anymore. I let you go!”
My last words echoed off the walls and the Spanish tile floor, resounding through the room as clearly and effectively as if I were in the recording studio and someone had turned up the echo on the soundboard.
Appropriate, I thought. It was a statement I was sure would reverberate for a long time, not only in my dining room, but also in my life.
I felt good. Really good.
For about five minutes.
Then I started to shiver. I leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. Then I wrapped my arms around myself and cried – really cried. Sad tears, angry tears, but mostly just cleansing tears. I sobbed until my face was wet and my eyes swollen and my head pounding. I cried until I was dry, until I was empty, until she was completely gone from inside and all that was left there was me.
I dozed there on the dining room floor. When I woke up, it was dark outside, and my arm ached from how I’d been laying on it.
I stood up and stretched then headed to the kitchen for a drink. At the sink, I filled a glass with water then leaned against the cabinet while I took a long swallow and picked up my cell phone from where it was charging on the counter and checked the time. Half past nine. And I had one missed text from Joe.
What if she wanted Reeve to THINK V gave her the tat?
I chuckled. He couldn’t really give up an investigation. He’d probably always have it in the back of his mind, just like I would. Just like I’d always have Amber in the back of my mind.
And then I was thinking about his text. Why would she want anyone to think she was indebted to Vilanakis as his servant? Especially when she wanted Reeve back. What would she have to gain from that?
Nice try, Joe.
I set my water and phone down and started to the living room. Halfway there, I stopped. If he thought she was in danger, Reeve would want to protect her.
It was actually an excellent way to try to win him back. To be vulnerable, like he liked.
But it was silly to think she would be that manipulative.
Except… was it? She’d manipulated me. More than once. And I’d seen her exploit many men over the years. “Forget who you are… be who he wants.”
So, what if Joe was on to something?
I sank onto the sofa, playing a possible scenario out in my head. Amber had run to Vilanakis willingly, but when she’d realized that punishing Reeve came at a price and decided she wanted him back, maybe the only way to minimize the extent of her betrayal was to become a victim. Get the tattoo. Pretend she was in more danger than she was. She could have been the one to send the other e-mails to Reeve, the ones in English. Could have posed as Michelis and sent the Jane Doe autopsy to see what Reeve would do if he thought she was dead. See if he still cared. She’d had to know that Petros would tell him the truth eventually. Maybe she hoped he’d come after her then.
But he didn’t come. Instead, Joe did. And she’d insisted he take her to Reeve.
Then, if Vilanakis hadn’t been the one to tattoo her, if he hadn’t considered her a belonging, he would likely not have come after her. He’d never had a history of going after his ex-girlfriends before. It would explain why he’d eventually told Reeve that he wasn’t responsible for terrorizing her, which could also still be a lie. But wasn’t he the type to take credit for his bad deeds? Denying it would have defeated the point.