“Shouldn’t you be writing?” I asked.
“I should, but this constitutes research, so I am game if you are.”
“What do you hope to discover?”
Kyle turned to look at me. “Someone’s been in your room twice. First time, they took your notebook. Second time, they probably tried to log into your laptop. Despite writing thrillers, I doubt Paul Scanlon has the skills to break into a room without leaving some evidence of his presence, so it stands to reason that it was either Lisa or Alastair, since they have the master key and can come and go at will. The question is why. What are they looking for?”
“And you think this woman will be able to tell us?” I asked. I hadn’t meant to let it frighten me, but Kyle’s analysis did sound chilling. As far as I knew, no one else had complained of anything missing or anyone entering their room.
“Best-case scenario, we learn something of interest about who the Prentisses really are and why they might single you out.”
“And what’s the worst-case scenario?”
“Worst-case scenario, we enjoy a scenic drive on a gorgeous autumn day and have a pub lunch.”
“You know, you can be very persuasive.”
“It’s one of my lesser-known talents,” Kyle said as he pulled me close and kissed me.
Chapter 45
The drive was scenic, as promised, but I couldn’t help wondering if Kyle had suggested this outing as a means to get away from Len. The tension between them was obvious to anyone who cared to look, Len’s garrulous behavior forcing Kyle to withdraw and hide behind stilted politeness. Under the circumstances, I would have expected Len to leave, but this was a man who’d been sleeping with Kyle’s wife and now seemed to relish Kyle’s discomfort, setting out to prove that he wouldn’t be guilted into leaving.
“Will you ever speak to Len again?” I asked, hoping Kyle wouldn’t tell me to mind my own business. He’d be perfectly within his rights, but I thought he might want to talk about what had happened.
“I don’t know,” Kyle replied. “Right now, I just need a bit of space.”
“Aren’t you angry with him?” I persisted.
“I’m angry with myself.”
“Why? He’s the one who had it off with your wife.”
“We’re often told that we need to extricate ourselves from toxic relationships, listen to our inner voice, and understand that what other people do says more about them than it does about us, but it’s not quite that simple, is it?” Kyle said, turning to look at me. He didn’t look angry or hurt, which was a relief. Too many people acted out in anger, causing irreparable harm. I was glad to see that Kyle felt no need to lash out.
“No, it isn’t,” I agreed. “Do you still care about him?”
Kyle shrugged.
“What hold does he have over you?” I asked, crossing that invisible line between being supportive and prying. Kyle did not owe me an explanation and had every right to tell me to mind my own business. But he didn’t.
“I was an awkward, shy teenager,” Kyle said. “I barely had any friends and spent all my time in my room, drawing comic book strips and writing stories. I was lonely but didn’t know how to break out of my shell. When I got to uni, I was overwhelmed, hoping I’d get through fresher’s week without making a fool of myself. That was when I met Len. He was so sure of himself, so confident in his abilities. I was dazzled.”
“I’ve had friends like that,” I said, recalling my own years at uni. For me, it had been Janine. Blond, blue-eyed, with a body like a Victoria’s Secret model and a smile so guileless, no one ever guessed that behind the glossy façade lived an insecure, manipulative young woman who cared only about getting what she wanted. It took me years to see Janine for who she was, and several more years to gracefully extricate myself from the relationship, since we were still part of the same social circle.
“See, Len is the sort of person who’s at his best when surrounded by groupies. He needs a posse, as the Americans like to say, and he collected people he thought would be good for him. He might never have befriended me had it not been for our shared interest in writing. I suppose he saw me as someone he could use to help him out, critique his work and such. To be fair, he’s a good writer.”
“So, you became one of his groupies?” I asked, trying to imagine Kyle as a shy teenage boy, desperate to fit in.
“I became one of his chosen boys. To be honest, I enjoyed it. Suddenly, I was part of something. I felt a sense of belonging I’d never really known, and it was amazing. Suddenly, I was going to parties, football matches, the pub, and I wasn’t sitting by myself in the corner, hiding behind a book. I was at the center of things, because Len was always at the center of things. He was a girl magnet too,” Kyle said, smiling wistfully. “They were drawn to his complete lack of insecurity. He knew what he was about, and they knew it too.”
“So, what changed?” I asked, sensing the bromance had soured long before Len helped himself to Kyle’s wife.
“There was an accident,” Kyle said. “The night before graduation. A head-on collision with a tree. I was knocked senseless because, idiot that I was, I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and hit my head on the windscreen. Our friend, Hugh, was in the back seat. I’m not sure why he wasn’t able to get out, but the
