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Chapter 21
The place Cindy referred to is a thirty-minute drive. The whole journey, my mind keeps firing one question; How could she kill Thomas and kidnap a young child? It's not the Cindy I once loved.
When I met her, she was gorgeous and self-confident, without being mean to others. But what my friends noticed earlier took me a while longer to realize. Cindy's modeling success changed her. She became obsessed with money, status, and her appearance. She adored the media, who called us a power couple. I hated it; I simply wanted to enjoy our relationship. Until she cheated with whom I now know was Thomas, I believed she loved me. But the moment I walked in and saw her riding his dick on the bed, screaming at the top of her lungs that she loved him, broke me. I raced out her door and banned her from my life until now. Now she's done the unjustifiable.
I let go of the gas pedal and pull over next to a large wooden house which stands in between enormous white pine trees whose branches sweep back and forth. I pull out my phone and sent a text before placing it on the driver's seat. As I get out, I take the rest of the old, gray colonial, contemporary home. Weeds have grown between the stone pathway that's leading up to the residence. Hold on, Smarty. I'm here to bring you home.
I stride to the front door and see soft light coming through the small window next to it. The glass is dirty, and the paintwork is flaking. I lift my finger and press the button of the bell. No sound. I try again—nothing. My hand glides to the door, and when I press against it, it opens, and I step inside.
The wooden floor creaks under my weight, and the flickering light shows dust covering the ground and the large, dark-brown wooden cabinet standing against the wall on the left. God, Charlotte has been in this dump? I take small steps further until I'm in the middle of the large, open entrance hall. "Charlotte?" I hold my breath as I listen. A high creaking sound coming from further into the hallway before me piques my attention.
"Cindy?" My voice booms through the air. "I'm here. Talk to me." My fists clench together when I pick up her icy, bitter chuckle, followed by footsteps.
"Talk? Don't bullshit me, Nick. You and I both understand that you're not here for me. You came for the little brat."
I keep my focus on the hallway in front of me. My heartbeat increases when a shadow forms at the end of the hall. I detect mumbling sounds and smaller, lighter footsteps. My heart gallops when I watch Charlotte coming out of a room on the right. My eyes wander over her tiny body. Her clothes are dirty and wrinkled, and there's tape over her mouth. Her small wrists are tight together in front of her with a rope. Her eyes widen and her small chest rises and falls faster when she sees me. Without thinking, I take a step forward, but I stop when Cindy steps behind Charlotte whileholding a sharp, long kitchen knife in her right hand. God, no.
"You wanted to talk? So talk, Nicky."
Stay calm, I instruct myself. Don't show fear.
"Cindy, why did you do this? I don't understand. You're not the woman I once loved." My last sentence seems to affect her as her breath hitches for a moment. Her lips twist a small bit.
"You loved me?" she asks with a surprised tone.
"Yes, I did. I loved you a lot."
"Then why couldn't you forgive me? I made one small, stupid mistake, Nick." Layers of hurt and anger fill her voice.
I want to be honest with her, so I answer her question.
"Cheating in a relationship is the one thing I can't live with. It's a matter of trust. And I lost it when I found you that day with him."
I look at Charlotte, and my heart breaks as I ask my next question.
"Why did you kill Thomas?"
Cindy lets out an annoyed huff. "Because just like you, he fell in love with this kid," she says, pointing the tip of the knife at Charlotte. "He chose the kid's happiness above mine and his own. That was not what I had planned. After the first time I saw you in the restaurant with her, I found out she had a kid and that she was a baker. So I ordered a cake and after a chat with her at my house, it was clear she wanted you. So I hired a private detective, and he found out who the father was. Surprised but content, I visited Thomas and I told him you were dating Emma to get back at him. He was livid."
"You did what?" My mind tries to grasp this as she continues.
"It was the reason Thomas came back to Boston. In the talk I had with him, I noticed he still had feelings for her. God, why do men find her attractive? I'm a goddamn model. I'm the attractive one,” she says while layering her words in disgust. “She's only a simple baker."
"But God, Cindy, that isn't a reason to kill a person."
Her orbs flare up. "Thomas found out after the fight you two had, that you weren't aware that Emma was his ex and the mother of his child when you met her. He confronted me and we had an altercation. He said he would let you date Emma because he saw that you two were in love. The only thing he wanted was to be part of his daughter's life. He kept rambling on about how much her eyes looked like his. I told him his daughter had to be careful next time she came out of school. Children have accidents every day, sometimes fatal ones."
My mouth falls open from the malice in her voice.
"He got livid and told me to get out. I did, but that little implication of mine made him worry so much that he picked his daughter up the next day like I hoped he would. He took her to his house, and the rest is history."
God, Thomas picked her up because Cindy threatened to hurt Charlotte. He wanted to protect her.
"You are crazy!"
"And that is your fault, Nick. All I asked of you was another chance.” She waves and points the blade at me. "We were perfect together. You and I, we were a power couple. We both have the looks and status. I always believed you would return to me. But then you started a relationship with an ugly, single mother?" Cindy tries to wrinkle her nose, but the Botox in her face doesn't allow that. Her eyes dart to Charlotte, and a sinister glance circulates in her irises.
"I hate kids,” she says, turning the knife back to Charlotte, whose legs are shaking profoundly. “Kids are a woman's downfall. From the moment they're conceived, they make a woman's body fat. Pregnant women are nothing more than distasteful, bloated whales. They,” she says while scratching the tip of the knife against Charlotte's cheek, “make our beautifully soft, flawless skin wrinkly and ugly. So how can you choose Emma over me, Nick? What does she have that I don't?" There's a crack of sensitivity in her icy-bitter voice.
