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Chapter Nine
Teddy
In the days following Jane’s scopolamine experiment, the entire house seems to take a deep breath, waiting for what’s next. I knew Jane would inevitably pull some power trip when we got here with Branson, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon or so dramatic. I have to give it to Jane, though. If fucking with and breaking him was what she was wanting, then it is working. He’s been quiet and harder to rile up the last few days, but I’ll give him a short respite, let him think things are settled, before the fuckery continues.
Jane and I are still getting into the routine of being home and I find myself bored more often than not. Patience has never been a virtue of mine. At least when we were in the city or traveling, I could explore, wander.
I make my way toward Jane’s room, frowning when I notice she isn’t there. Just as I’m about to step away, I hear a low voice coming from her bathroom. I frown and approach the door, Jane’s voice getting clearer as I approach.
“I can fucking do it, can’t fucking stop me anymore. Fucking masterpiece,” I hear her say. Her voice trails off until I can’t hear her, so I knock loudly before taking a step back.
The door opens a split second later and Jane steps out, dressed for going out.
“What is it?”
“Who were you talking to?” I question, and her eyes narrow at me. There was a time only a few years ago when I wouldn’t have dared to ask her anything or question her in any way, much less interrupt her. What other people wouldn’t understand is that Jane simply doesn’t scare me anymore. I understand her, see her.
“No one,” she replies, “Now, what the fuck are you doing in my room?”
I raise a brow slightly at the lie but don’t push her further for now. Crossing my arms, I reply, “I’m bored. There’s nothing to do around here.”
Jane rolls her eyes and makes her way across the room to her dresser.
“You’re not a child anymore. I’m not here to entertain you.”
“Call Bud, then. Get me a new toy,” I demand. Jane whips around and glares at me, pointing a finger.
“You should have made the last one take longer. Go harass Branson or something. I’ve got to go into town to deal with some things.”
“What things? Can I come?”
“No!” she replies, a little too sharply and I hold my hands up in mock surrender. She glares at me a moment longer before turning back to the dresser and grabbing her purse.
“I’ll be home tonight.”
She walks out without another word, leaving me considering her oddness. A smile crosses my face and I look around, realizing I have the house to myself. I’ve never had much interest in Jane’s secrets before, but the boredom is real and some snooping sounds better than anything else I could do right now. I wait until I hear the distant sound of her car pulling away before I giggle and begin to look around. My eyes land on her desk. The desk that’s always been locked.
Taking a look at the lock, I realize it’s a simple key lock and head to my room to grab the small lock picking kit Jane got me last year. I was surprised at the time, it didn’t make sense to me, until she explained that the best places to take victims in the cities were generally locked.
I smile fondly at the memories of oh-so-many broken into warehouses and buildings. Compared to those, this is nothing.
It takes me less than a minute before the door slides open with ease. Pleased with myself, I sit down and begin to rifle through the papers.
Most of them seem to be pretty boring stuff, accounting and records for the antique business and some old newspapers. When my gaze lands on the deed of the house I twist my head, my interest renewed.
My brows knit together as I read through the papers, the name ‘Sharon Ketis’ appearing on many of them. Jane Ketis… her mom?
As I read, so much of Jane begins to make sense. All of it. The control, the ‘art’, the medical textbooks, her treatment of Branson. Shit, even Bud makes sense.
I finish and carefully put it all away, locking it behind me, and sneaking down the hall to my room.
