A tear runs down my face.
“I came here … because …”
Why, Jack? Why did you come here? Why did you do this to me? I was fine until you came here and turned my life upside down.
Another sigh. “Toby didn’t kill those women, Audrey.”
The way he calls him Toby. With familiarity.
Because he is his family.
His brother.
The thought makes me feel violently sick.
“It wasn’t him who hurt you that night. I know the evidence pointed his way … but I know my brother. It wasn’t him. And I came here … because you were here. I knew the real killer would follow you here. You were …”
His reason for killing.
He doesn’t say the words. He doesn’t have to.
“An obsession like that doesn’t just stop overnight. I knew he would follow you here. I came … not expecting … you. It is true; I wanted to get close to you, become friendly, so I could … I don’t know. Get some insight. Find out who was in your life. See if anyone was watching you. Following you. I just didn’t fucking expect …”
What, Jack?
Another deep exhale. “You, Audrey. I didn’t expect you.”
He sounds defeated.
“I didn’t expect this between us. To feel the way I do every time I look at you … like … I …”
Like you … what?
Another sigh. I hear movement. A rustle. I can just imagine his hand dragging through his hair the way it does when he can’t find the words he wants to say.
“For a guy whose words make him a living, I am doing a shitty job at expressing what I feel.” A sad-sounding laugh leaves him. “I’m crazy about you, Audrey. When I’m around you … I feel alive in a way I haven’t in a really long time. And I know I lied and that I am the last person you want to trust right now. But it’s the truth. How I feel about you.
“And I didn’t put that picture in my wallet. I’m not the kind of guy who carries photos around in his wallet. And I’m also not that stupid. Forgive me for saying this, but I told you that I wasn’t ready for you to know who I was, and that was the reality of the situation. So, no way would I risk having anything that would cause you to find out.
“When I came here, I brought nothing here with me to link me to Toby in any way. And I definitely did not put a printed-out newspaper photo in my wallet.
“I know you don’t want to listen to me or hear what I’m saying, but you need to. Someone planted that picture there. Which means, whether you want to believe it or not, that I was right … the real killer is here, and he wants me gone. And that means, we’re both in danger.”
I don’t know why I open the door.
Maybe it’s because he said we’re in danger, and that has been a fear of mine. A worry of a copycat. Especially with the recent murders.
Maybe I open it because something in the back of my brain wonders if what he said could have merit. He seemed really convincing when he said that he didn’t put the picture in his wallet. I would like to say that I know when Jack is lying, but clearly, I don’t.
I never really knew him at all. Not even a little bit.
But I’m also not dumb enough to not see the logic in what he’s saying about him not wanting me to know who he was, so why would he carry a picture there in his wallet? And then tell me to get the money out of it to pay for dinner?
He could have forgotten.
No. Jack is a lot of things. Mainly a liar. But a stupid man he is not.
He was clever enough to find me and follow me here.
Maybe I open the door because I have questions. Now that I’ve calmed a little, I have questions I need him to answer.
I could have asked through the door.
Or maybe I open the damn door because I’m in love with him. And people do blind, irresponsible shit when they’re in love. Even things that could get them killed.
Jack is on his feet. Staring at me.
I can’t even imagine what I look like right now.
He looks wrung out. His hair is messed up from running his hands through it, I assume.
But still beautiful.
Always beautiful.
I hate that.
I hate him.
And I hate even more that I don’t hate him, not really.
“I’m sorry—” he starts in a soft voice.
“Don’t,” I cut him off, my voice arctic. “I have questions. I want you to answer them.”
“Anything,” he tells me, the look on his face earnest. Not that I can trust any way Jack looks anymore.
“And I want the truth,” I add. “All of it.”
“Everything I have told you from the moment I met you has been the truth. Except for Tobias. Keeping who he is to me, that is the only thing I have ever held back from you.”
I wrap my arms around myself, needing to stop my heart from reaching out to him. My idiot, traitorous heart.
“And your ex-girlfriend.” The words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them. And it’s a damn stupid thing to say at such a serious time as this.
Jack frowns. “What ex-girlfriend?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What ex-girlfriend, Audrey?” His voice is firmer.
I shift on my feet. “The friend in Australia. You were weird every time you mentioned him, so I figured it was an ex.” An important ex-girlfriend.
His expression shifts to guilt again. I feel like I’m going to get used to seeing this expression. “I was talking about Toby. He was the one who sent my manuscript off. When I said it, I knew I had dug myself into a hole, so I panicked and just said it was an old friend.”
I think back to that moment in the restaurant, and it all makes sense.
There I was,
