CHAPTER 14
A smug grin tweaked Miranda’s drawn face as she was led into the interview room. Following the same procedure as the day before, I was waiting for her in my seat at the table. Her escort disconnected her handcuffs from the Martin chain around her waist and then guided her into the chair opposite me.
“So…you decided to come back,” Miranda said, cocking her head to see me around the corrections officer who was reconnecting her handcuffs to the ring on the table.
A purplish bruise wrapped almost halfway around her thin neck. The garish colors were mottled and faded toward the edges, but a solid, dark area of discoloration was evident where my thumb had pressed into her windpipe. It didn’t take any imagination at all to see my own handprint in the outline of the contusion.
“You knew I would,” I said.
“Of course. You missed me.”
I shrugged. “No. Not really.”
“Face it, little man. You are obsessed with me.”
“I’ll give you that,” I nodded. “But it’s definitely a different kind of obsession than what you would like to believe.”
“What do you think?” she asked, executing a disjointed change of subject. She pointed her chin upward and turned her head slightly so as to call attention to the large bruise. “I wore it just for you.”
“I see.”
“Tell me, little man,” she continued. “Do you abuse your wife too, or is it just me who gets to be the lucky one?”
I let out a carefully measured sigh but chose to hold my tongue.
Without missing a beat, she returned to the original subject. “Getting back to Felicity, how does she feel about this lurid preoccupation of yours? Is she jealous of me?”
“Actually, she’s okay with it,” I replied.
“Of course she is,” Miranda replied. “Because she knows you will bring us together again.”
“That’s not going to happen.” I reached out and lifted the bottle of salt water from the table and unscrewed the cap. I’d downed a full one before ever walking into the room, and something told me I’d likely drain this one before I walked out.
“Salt water?” Miranda asked, nodding toward the bottle in my hand.
“Yes. Want some?”
“I thought we talked about this. That will not work on me.”
“Doesn’t really matter,” I replied. “It isn’t for you. It’s for me.” I took a long swallow and then carefully replaced the cap, never breaking eye contact with her.
She didn’t even blink, but I could tell by her silence that this was a move she hadn’t expected. I knew she was trying to get inside me, just as she had done yesterday. I could feel it. My head was throbbing, and there was even a slight tingle pricking my skin. But none of it was anywhere near the intensity of the day before.
My defenses were up and holding. The pain was manageable so far. It seemed the infusion of salt was working for the moment, but I had the distinct feeling that it was nothing more than a stopgap. Given enough time, Miranda would find a way around it.
“Don’t you want her to be happy?” she pressed, moving on.
I dipped my head in a shallow nod. “You know I do.”
“Well then, why are you trying so hard to keep us apart?”
“Obviously I’m doing more than just trying.”
“Which means you do not really love her. If you did, then you would not stand between us.”
“Why is that, Miranda?”
“Because I can give her so much more than you. I can make her happy in ways that you cannot fathom.”
I knew this was only a precursor. Her intent was to bait me into a repeat of my outburst. If I lost control, salt water or not, she would be able to take the reins, and just like before, there would be no turning back. However, I wasn’t going to allow that to happen this time. I steeled myself and simply replied, “So I’ve heard.”
“I am sure that you have.” She smiled. “In great detail I suspect.”
“No, not as much as you would imagine.”
“So I am her secret then. That is even better.”
“Not a secret, really,” I replied. “She just has a lot more class than you.”
She ignored the insult and continued her attempt at provocation. “Tell me, little man, does it not make you jealous that I can pleasure her in ways that you cannot?”
“Can you? It seems to me that you actually just use her as a vehicle to pleasure yourself.”
“A pleasure from which she benefits.”
“I think that might be a matter of perspective.”
“Really? Are you familiar with the remora?” she asked.
I nodded. “It’s a fish as I recall.”
“Very good. Yes, it is,” she replied. “You see, the remora attaches itself to sharks, whales, and other large sea creatures. In exchange for the ride, it grooms its host, keeping it free of bacteria and harmful parasites. The arrangement is called mutualism. Both of them reap benefits from the symbiotic relationship.”
“And so you’re telling me that you and my wife have that same type of relationship I take it?”
“Of course.”
“And you fancy yourself the remora, and not the shark.”
“See?” she replied, saccharine sweet sarcasm glazing her words. “You do understand.”
“Actually, I don’t, because what I see is something completely the opposite. Like the lamprey eel, you attach yourself to a host then proceed to suck the life out of her before moving to the next and so on. Therefore, you benefit at the host’s expense. That arrangement is called parasitism.”
“Interesting. I did not know you had a background in marine biology,” she quipped.
“I had to dissect a lamprey when I was in high school,” I replied. “It left a distasteful impression on me then, just like you have now.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Yes. Here I am,” I agreed. “So… How about you? That analogy with the remora seems like a fairly obscure piece of knowledge for a self-involved head case whose waterlogged corpse was found floating face down in the Mississippi back in eighteen fifty-one.”
I unscrewed the cap on the bottle and took another drink of the salt-laced water while she glared at me in silence. Apparently it was my turn to strike a nerve.
“I’ve wondered about that for a while now,” I continued as I set the bottle aside. “The newspaper article I found mentioned that you were seen jumping into the river. Why would you do something like that? Or, were you maybe pushed?”
She continued to stare.
“I have a theory. Want to hear it? It has to do with your sister, Delphine…”
She cut me off, announcing in a cold tone, “You never answered my question.”
“Answer mine and I’ll see what I can do.”
“No.”
“That doesn’t seem terribly symbiotic of you.”
She allowed the gibe to go unanswered and instead, verbally forced the subject back onto the original track. “Felicity and I are meant for one another. You need to come to terms with that, little man.”
I nodded. “That’s what you keep saying.”
She gave me a sidelong glance then raised an eyebrow. “You are handling this much better than you did yesterday.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “However, you seem to be a little more on edge today. Ironic, don’t you think?”
She ignored the observation and pressed forward. “I am afraid that your visit is in vain. I have decided not to let you speak to Annalise.”
