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He slinks down on the couch, which faces his multi-million-dollar view of Puget Sound. He stares straight ahead, but not at the gorgeous view. His eyes are fixed on a spot on the wall. She stands in the entryway considering whether or not to enter, or to turn and go. She wonders how long he’s known.
“David? Are you okay?” she asks quietly. She takes a few cautious steps in his direction.
His head whips up. “Does it look like I’m okay?”
There’s anger in his tone and a little venom, and sadness in his eyes. Ali knows this is a worst-case scenario. Anger, she can soothe. But when sadness takes its grip, all bets are off. “I know you’re angry and I’m sorry.”
“Are you, Sarah? I mean,Ali? Are youreally?”
“If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have come.”
“I could ruin you, you know.”
“Yes,” she says. “I lied to you and you’d have every right.”
He isn’t expecting her to say this, but he isn’t buying it, either.
“You know the really fucked up part? If you’d just have asked for the money, I’d have given it to you.”
Ali knows this is at least partially a lie. He might have given it to her, but he would have lost respect for her for asking. It would have been the beginning of the end, the same as her stealing it.
“I know.” She perches on the edge of his sofa. Close, but not too close. “And I should have asked. But I was embarrassed.”
“You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed. You’re not that kind of woman.”
She swallows and looks away, toward the trees and the water. There’s a long silence. She’s going to miss this view.
“What’d you do with it, anyway?”
“I paid my father off.”
“Your father? I thought you said your parents were dead.”
“There are different kinds of dead.”
He stands and crosses the living room. It’s an open floor plan, which makes it hard to tell where he’s going. Eventually, he sits at the piano. He strokes a few keys, hitting all the sad notes.
“I can repay you. I just need a little time.” This is a lie, but sometimes it works. Stealing from David was never about the money, not really. People steal things for all kinds of reasons. Sometimes it’s simply for the reason that they can. For the thrill of it. To see how much they can get away with. That’s the part Ali loves.
“I could ruin you or I could kill you.”
“You wouldn’t though,” she says. “You’re not that kind of man.”
“You don’t know what kind of man I am.”
“I’m a psychologist, David. I can assure you I do.”
He looks over at her and shakes his head. He’s disgusted, but Ali knows it’s more with himself than her. “Why would you pay your father off? And why would you steal from me to do it?” She shifts toward the window. “You look like you do okay.”
“He molested me. And looks can be deceiving.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“You have no idea.”
“So what? You think you can punish other men for what he did? Is that what this is?”
Ali almost smiles because he’s using armchair psychology on her. She catches herself. “I don’t know. I just needed him not to go to the press. He’s always threatening to leak the story, anonymously, of course.”
