“I want them all dead for what they did.”
“I want that too, but we have to keep lying low for a while,” I reminded her. She still wanted to rush this, but Elliott Bradley and now Arthur Englund were watching us closely. I’d spotted them both more than once in the two weeks since we broke into Charles’s house. They hadn’t approached me, but they’d made sure to let me know they’d seen me.
Evie stood and stretched before coming to cuddle with me, the dogs joining us. I raised my arm and let her crawl into the crook of it. She snuggled into my still-damp bare chest. She’d been more touchy-feely since our morning at thePsychohouse. Before, she’d been hesitant to be close to me. Now she went out of her way to do so.
“I just want to be done with all of this,” she said, her voice breathy.
I kissed the top of her head.
“Whenever you want to be done, we can be,” I reminded her.
“I know, but... I swore I’d see it through.” She sat back up, and I felt her absence instantly. She took all the warmth with her.
I bit my tongue, choking down the words I wanted to throw at her.What if she did survive? What if we didn’t get caught? What if we could live normal lives? Would she be interested in being more than just partners in crime?
Would she stay?
These questions ran through my mind day after day, and it took everything in me not to vomit them out. If I thought it’d do anything, I’d get on my knees right now and beg for her to stop this quest for vengeance, this death sentence. Instead, I nodded and pulled her back into my embrace. She didn’t argue and instead snuggled tighter.
“Are you staying over tonight?” I asked.
“Is that okay?”
“Always.”
She’d been staying over a lot under the guise of convenience. We could drive to work together. It saved gas, she’d tell me. I never called her on the lame excuses. She was always welcome here.
“I’ll go home tomorrow,” she promised, and I really wished she wouldn’t. I wanted her to stay here forever. “I just don’t want to be alone tonight. Reading Charles’s journals is taking a toll on me,” she sighed.
“I know.” I kissed her hair again and let her vent.
“Why didn’t she tell him?”
If Charles’s recollections were to be believed, Evie was the product of an affair. This was the puzzle piece we were missing. Lita had told Charles everything. She gave up every single producer, executive, director, or casting agent she’d slept with to grow her career. She told him about every single lover and act she’d performed before him, but she never told him who impregnated her. Something wasn’t right. Why hadn’t he written it down?
My gut told me that, whoever her father was, he was still alive.
I wasn’t ready to express my theory, but I was pretty sure her father was Elliott Bradley, the worst of them all. And Charles knew. They all knew.
Chapter 54
Evie
The Philanthropist
“You think a journal is missing?” Sebastian looked at me, skeptical.
“There has to be. One moment she’s planning their wedding. The next she’s six months pregnant.”
I knew spending my evenings poring over Charles’s journals bothered him. He wanted to let this all go, but we were so close, I could taste the blood of the two men I had left. Arthur Englund and Elliott Bradley.
We spotted them walking together a few days ago. I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings while I snacked at the craft services table, but Sebastian nudged me. Grabbing a small bundle of grapes, I turned to see two handsome middle-aged men walking by, smiling and chatting with each other.
I recognized their faces from simple internet searches and the many TV appearances Elliott made, but seeing them in person was chilling. I dropped the grape in my hand, my mouth falling open. “Was that—”
“Arthur and Elliott? Yep. I’m surprised this is the first time you’ve seen them. They’ve been walking around a lot this week.”
“Really? I wonder why,” I asked, and when Sebastian gave me a pointed look, my face flushed. Right. They were sending a message as a united front. A warning. We knew they had been the ones inside Charles’s house that night. We’d narrowly escaped getting caught by them, but they knew we’d been there.
