“Women like Lita, like Evie, know the kind of power they hold. They see the light in a man’s eyes when they look upon them and know how to use it to their advantage. It was fun with Lita—for a while. But when she got too pushy and her requests turned into demands, well...”
“She committed suicide?” I said.
He smiled. “Exactly.” He stared me down, refusing to look away.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Bradley.” I tried to step out of his way, but he mirrored my movements so that we stayed parallel.
“I’m not done. I heard about your neighbor, Fred Castle. He was a good friend of mine.”
I nodded and pursed my lips. “Suicide. His house is already for sale if you’re interested. Might be a bit small for you.” I played it aloof.
“Suicide, that word gets thrown around a lot here. It’s easy for rumors to spread. Do you think he killed himself?”
The cold stare told me he was prepared for me to lie.
“It’s hard to say. He was divorced. Wife took everything.” I shrugged. “Wasn’t he an alcoholic? I’m sorry for your loss.”
“No, you’re not,” he snapped, then looked around to see if anyone was watching. He’d stopped me in broad daylight. He seemed to remember this, and stepped back, removing his hand from my shoulder. “I’m not stupid. Fred wasn’t either. You just caught him with his pants down. That girl of yours better behave.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get lunch.”
I started to walk away, and finally, he let me go with no resistance, but then he called out.
“I know you were there that night with Mike Thornton.”
I stopped and turned. He stormed over to me and brought his hand up, pinching my chin. I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to swat him away. Catching a charge for the assault of America’s sweetheart? That would have longer damage than any bruise I might have dealt him.
“I know all about what went on. Mike and I were close, which you know. I read the report, and I get why you did it. He was an ass when he was drunk. I can only imagine what he did that day with you. But it was a mistake on your part. You should have stayed in your lane. That’s what’s going to get you in trouble. It’s what got Lita Reyes in trouble too, and by the sounds of it, her stupid kid isn’t far behind. This is your warning, Shaw. Sit back down.”
“Or what? Evie deserves to know what happened to her mom.” I slapped his hand away, then I plastered on a large smile, as if this were all some sort of game between us. I wasn’t going to admit to anything, especially not here. If he were anyone else, I would have already swung my fist into his jaw, but this man had his hands in every pot. He had shows, films, book deals, clothing lines—even cookware, I was pretty sure, at some point. If a photo or video of us was captured with me looking anything but perfectly pleasant around him, my career would be dead by midnight.
“What happened to her mother is public record. She killed herself for being a whore.” Elliott laughed loudly, as if he’d just told me the best joke known to man.
People passed by and smiled when they saw Elliott, but no one caught on that we were arguing. We were just two friends catching up.
His smile fell, and he grew serious again. “Let’s not keep going with this. It doesn’t have to be so messy. I’d hate for that man from that video to be telling the truth.”
My mouth opened partially. “What?”
Elliott leaned in, that chilling smile returning as he whispered in my ear, sending fear slithering down my spine with each word. “This will end in a bloodbath.”
Chapter 42
Evie
The Boon
“It’s a trap. Don’t move!” my mother, as Lana Westcott, yelled to a young Sebastian dressed in his Ronny costume. She stood in the middle of a gymnasium, hands on her head. Bryce, as Simon Says, stared at her from across the room—an axe in his bloodied hands—preparing to sever a rope that would trigger a Rube Goldberg machine designed to slice Sebastian’s character in half.
“But he said Simon Says!” Sebastian, in his tiny eight-year-old voice, cried out in a panic.
I watched the firstSimon Saysmovie from the comfort of my home theater. I was at the start of a movie marathon. None of these movies were well-written or shot, but that was what made them great. The budgets were nonexistent, but the passion of everyone involved showed on the screen. It didn’t matter if the movie was “good.” It didn’t have to be. It just had to be fun.
Even at such a young age, Sebastian was a natural. He stepped onto set and transformed into the character. He held his own with the adult cast. It was no surprise that when my mother died, they didn’t bother replacing her with another female but let Sebastian step into the lead role.
My phone chirped with a text, interrupting the ending. I set my bowl of popcorn down and reached for it.
Psycho Killer: Can I come over?
