“I couldn’t bring myself to take it off,” she says, pointing to Clare’s hand. “Feels like a bit of a shield. I noticed you don’t wear yours anymore.”
Clare says nothing.
“It’s kind of wild, isn’t it?” Zoe continues. “We could be twins. We share the same taste in men, clearly. And we’re both definitely Malcolm’s type.”
“Charlotte,” Clare says. “Where is she?”
“My sister?” Zoe says. “That’s not really your business, is it? You don’t know anything about Charlotte. But she’s been helpful to me. It’s always been easy to get her to do my bidding. I always knew what buttons to press.”
“She was hurt. You hurt her.”
“I didn’t do anything. Your trigger-happy husband, on the other hand…”
“You. You’re the one who sent me the video,” Clare says.
“See?” Zoe taps a finger to her temple. “You are smart. But also kind of naive. I figured you’d take it to the police and tell them all about Grayson’s friendship with Malcolm. I knew you’d figure it all out. But you didn’t tell them about Malcolm. You left that part out. You really would do anything to protect him.”
“Where is he?” Clare asks finally. “Where is Malcolm?”
“Still here. Of course he is.” Zoe twists a finger through her hair. “Jason has this notion of revenge. You know, tie the guy to a chair. Toy with him. You stole my wife, so now I get to have my way with you. Eye for an eye. That kind of thing. I think your Jason’s watched too many bad action movies.”
Clare is statue still, listening. She knows Zoe could be bluffing. All she can think to do is keep Zoe talking, to engage in a way she knows Zoe will be unable to resist.
“You had your father killed. You wanted to pin that on Malcolm.”
“Give me a break.” Zoe rolls her eyes. “Dad wanted to die. I was the only one with the guts to get it done for him.”
The perfect crime, Malcolm called it last night. Zoe smiles strangely, as though Clare were her studio audience. She’s taking pleasure in this.
“What do you want from me?” Clare asks.
“Me? Nothing. Jason’s the only reason you’re still breathing.”
“You can kill me. Kill us. But it will all catch up to you, Zoe. It was already catching up to you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Zoe says. “Nothing was catching up. You don’t understand anything about money. It keeps you free. The world has opened up to me since my dad died. The real money wasn’t in buying and selling stupid plots of land. That part of the business was bullshit. Small coin, especially in Lune Bay. After my dad died, I figured it out: the real power was with us women. I’m sure you know that, Clare. The power that women have over men. The way we can control things. You can build a whole empire on that alone. And I did.”
“Young women,” Clare says, her voice gruff. “You mean like Kendall Bentley? Stacey Norton? You traffic women. And then a lot of those women disappear.”
“I hate that word,” Zoe says. “Traffic. It implies force. I never forced anyone to do anything. I incentivized them. Fair and square. And they didn’t disappear. They just moved on.”
“You lured them in with money, with drugs, and then you used them. I’m guessing you even used your own sister.”
“Fuck you, Clare. Like I said, you don’t know anything about Charlotte.”
“Malcolm was onto you,” Clare says. “He figured out what you were doing a long time ago.”
Zoe laughs again. “Oh my God. It’s actually kind of amazing. You want so badly for him to be the hero.”
Clare’s head aches. Zoe loves the attention. She can’t help herself. Clare has to keep her talking. Buy some time.
“So you did it, then?” Clare prompts. “You built an empire.”
“I did,” Zoe says. “It was easy to find people to do the work for me once I left Lune Bay. People in other places. Depressed little towns. Lost young women. Angry men. They’re everywhere. The work is really about oversight. Just being the wizard behind the curtain. But you? You knew. You were starting to catch on. To figure it all out. You knew. And I can’t have that. I would have killed you this morning if it was up to me. But Jason is such a lightweight. He wanted time. He wants the last word with you. I think he’s just crazy enough to draw this out.”
Clare’s head throbs now. She presses her fingers to her temples, dizzy. You knew. There is a knock on the door.
“Here he is, right on cue,” Zoe says. “Speak of the devil.”
You knew.
Zoe has left, taking the gun with her. They’ve switched places. Jason is in the chair now. The bedroom door is ajar. Clare remains frozen in place on the corner of the bed, sitting as motionless as she can, her body buzzing with terror. How many scenes just like this one have played out in Clare’s life? Jason’s hands are bloodied from the small cuts zigzagged along his knuckles. Jason studies her, his head cocked to one side. He wears a slight and crooked smile. In their marriage Clare endured many variations of Jason’s temper, but this is unfamiliar. This rage feels too quiet, too cold. More threatening. Inhuman.
Take the upper hand, Clare thinks. Find a way. Find a way out, or you die. Clare breathes, steeling herself.
“Jason,” she says quietly.
“I’ve missed you, Clare.”
“I know you have.”
“Everyone thought you were dead. Your dad and your brother. Even Grace. I think they wanted you to be dead, Clare. Maybe I did too.”
Clare feels a stab in her chest. He smiles at her.
“You said I owe you the truth, Jason,” Clare says. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Do you love him?”
“Malcolm?” Clare asks. “Malcolm is a stranger to
