Page 75 of The Woman I’ve Become

“What did you do?”

I look up at her and smile. “I used my teeth. If the two of you had hung out in the kitchen a little longer, I would have been gone.”

She mutters a curse as she moves back to stand behind her ticket to whatever payday is coming her way.

I decide to start at the beginning. Why not? They think they know everything. They don’t. I’ll give them something to think about.

“A few minutes after you walked out on Casey and me”—I fix my attention on Julia—“he made me shower and get dressed. He said I upset you and caused you to leave, so I had to take your place at some appointment he had.”

“What does that even mean?” Her face is lined with questions and no lack of hatred.

“He claimed he planned to take you to a client of his, and I screwed up the plan, so he made me take your place.”

She’s shaking her head. “No. We hadn’t even decided to meet that day. My decision to come to him was all on my own. He didn’t ask me to come or even know that I was coming.”

She’s right. I found that out later. His goal that day was to get rid of me. I stare at my former friend. The worst part is she knew. She wanted me gone.

“I can only tell you what he said to me,” I toss back. When she doesn’t argue further, I continue. “Then we drove to the city. He took me to this grandiose place on Sixty-Second Street. He warned that I better not screw it up. That I was doing this for you.”

“That’s preposterous.” Her head is moving side to side again, but any sign of outrage has shifted into something like suspicion. She’s wondering just how much I know. Good. Let her sweat.

“Once we were at the door, he insisted I was to do whatever the man asked of me. He reminded me again that this was for you. I felt like shit for what happened, so I was willing to do whatever I had to.” So stupid of me, but I was hardly more than a kid.

For a long time, I told myself Casey lied. Psychos do that. But the fact is the whole thing was planned and she was in on the planning.

When she doesn’t comment, I continue. “The man was older. Late fifties, maybe sixty I think at the time. He told me what to do and I did it. I gave the performance of my life.” I close my eyes a moment to block the memories. “When I finished, I thought I would be going home. That Casey would come back for me or whatever. But that never happened.”

“This is just more of your lies,” Julia insists, her tone bitter. “You always said you had secrets. Lots of them. You’ve been lying your whole life.”

This is true. I have lied to some degree my whole life. I don’t see that changing anytime soon. However, a good liar knows when to add to her wager and when to hold. This is a definite hold moment. I suspect my old friend has built a narrative that showcases her as the victim. She has used that to sharpen her minion’s hatred of me. She cannot allow any detail that might lessen that hatred or sway that opinion to stand.

Julia draws in a big breath as if calming herself. “What was his name? This man Casey left you with.”

“William Saunderson. Date of death December thirty-first almost eleven years ago. The news reported that it was a suspected home invasion. A widower. He lived alone. Even his household staff couldn’t list everything that had been taken by the multitude of intruders. Still, the police should have recognized the place his body was found for what it was—his hidden playhouse—but that never happened. There wasn’t anything in the news about his little secret. I suspect that was all taken care of even before his body was moved.” I scoff. “Go figure.”

“What do you mean playhouse?” Alicia’s expression is a bit dour as if she feels like the third wheel in our little reunion.

“A room with whips, chains, and the usual BDSM tools. You’ve seen my scars. He also liked playing doctor as well as other forms of dress-up, so there were rooms for those games too.”

Alicia blinks but says nothing more.

“I was somewhat less compliant until I learned that being the good girl was the key to my staying alive and any possibility of escape.”

“You were always particularly adept at fitting in with any given situation.” Julia cocks her head. “I never knew if you were that confident or just using all those disguises as a way to hide.”

A little of both, I suppose, but I don’t say as much. “Eventually I earned his trust, and when the time was right, I made my move. I left him in a pool of blood on the floor. That was, as I said, almost eleven years ago.”

The silence drags on for a bit. Long enough for me to look away from this room to the picturesque view beyond the windows. The water is so very still, and, judging by the sun, it’s nearing noon. I think of Olivia and what she’s doing today. She’s probably dressing for the birthday party. I imagine her wearing that frilly pink dress she loves so much. Or maybe the white one with all the lace.

“You said there were seven,” Julia nudges, her voice oozing with skepticism.

I turn back to her. “Yes. Those last few years, my keeper had come to trust me more and more. I overheard conversations. Even got a peek at a few faces. I knew the men—his circle of friends—who shared his proclivities. They had formed a sort of club years ago to share their stories and to discuss the business, I think. They were all very rich and very powerful. They knew how to protect themselves.” I smile, more to myself than to the two listening. “But they never expected me. I picked them off one at a time. One woman, sometimes more, was freed each time. The victims I released never told the police about me.”

While Julia and her minion listen with an avid curiosity they can no longer hide, I list the rest of the names as well as their manner and date of death all the way up to the very last one.

“The Monster was last year,” I say, “as you know.”

Julia’s face, even her posture stiffens as I speak. “You knew this, and he’s the one you left me with. Dropped me off on his doorstep, bound, gagged and stuffed into a duffel bag. Then you came back here and stole my life.”