shower.
Leif grabbed his sole bottle of whiskey, Chivas Regal that the dean had given him last year when he’d had an article published in a prestigious academic journal. He took it and a water glass to his bathroom, poured a near-full glass, and took a large sip. The liquid burned his throat the way his eyes burned from the pain of losing Anya. Spread the pain, he thought, and coughed out a sob.
He turned on the shower, stripped, leaving his clothes in the middle of the bathroom floor. He took another long drink of whiskey, this one sliding down much easier.
The water was still cold when he stepped into the shower, but he didn’t care. Physical discomfort was nothing compared with the pain inside.
The water warmed and he sobbed, bawling like a little kid, and sank to the tile floor of his shower. He’d failed Anya in so many ways.
It was a long time later before he emerged. Leif wrapped a towel around his waist and reached for his glass of Chivas. He drained the remainder and considered pouring another, but his stomach churned. He should never have drunk whiskey on an empty stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten … breakfast? Coffee and a scone. Hardly a meal.
He rummaged through the kitchen cabinets looking for crackers or chips, light-headed and dizzy. He grabbed a box and stumbled into his bedroom, collapsing uneasily into his reading chair. He closed his eyes, head spinning. He knew better than to drink. He was such a lightweight.
He drifted to sleep.
A sharp pain in his arm startled him. Leif didn’t feel awake. His head was thick, as if he had a hangover. A bad hangover. From a couple shots of whiskey? Maybe. Had he drunk more and not remembered?
He tried to stretch, to shake the cobwebs from his mind, but his limbs were heavy, he couldn’t move. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt plastered shut.
A light, flowery scent consumed him.
A woman. Perfume. Not a scent he was familiar with. Not Anya’s. Anya was dead.
Someone was in his house.
“What?” His tongue was thick.
“Good fucking morning,” a female voice said, her breath on his face.
He forced his eyes open, squinting, the lights too bright. He didn’t remember turning on any lights.
“Who are you?” he asked. It sounded like he was hearing himself in a tunnel, complete with an echo. He tried to stand, but stumbled and sank heavily back into his seat. He couldn’t move his hands.
“Don’t worry,” she said.
The realization that someone had broken into his house while he was sleeping-or passed out-and tied him to his chair cleared his head a fraction. And there was something familiar about her voice.
“What? What are you d-doing?” he said, trying to get the words out clearly. He opened his eyes again, slowly, adjusting to the too-bright light.
“It’s your fault. You made me do it.”
Maggie O’Dell? He struggled against his restraints. Duct tape, long pieces over his wrists and taped down the sides of his upholstered chair. He pulled, but couldn’t break free. He looked down the side and saw that the tape had been crisscrossed to better restrain him.
“Maggie?”
He saw her then, her brown hair and big brown eyes. She had always been a beautiful girl, but Leif had never liked her. He didn’t know why.
She slapped him.
“You made me kill her.”
His head spun. “What?”
She slapped him again, then started pacing. The violence cleared his head some and he stared at her. She looked both angry and panicked. When she reached his desk in the corner of his bedroom, she picked up the monitor and threw it against the wall with surprising strength from such a slender girl.
Leif pulled at his restraints, but couldn’t loosen the tape. His fingers were numb.
“Twenty minutes,” Maggie mumbled.
“What?” Leif said, not knowing whether she was talking to him or not.
She walked back to him, straddled him on the chair and that’s when he realized the towel around his waist had slipped off and he was completely naked. But there was nothing sexual in her expression.
“It’s all your fault. Your fucking fault!” Her hand reached out and grabbed his neck and squeezed. “I hate you, hate you, you fucking prick. You messed up everything.
She squeezed until his body tightened, fighting for air.
Then she jumped off and started pacing again. “Fifteen minutes,” she said.
She was crazy. Certifiable.
The truth of that statement hit Leif like a bullet. “You killed Anya.”
“I loved Anya.”
She barked out a laugh. “You loved having a young girl to fuck, old man.”
She walked back to him and straddled him again, this time grinding herself against his limp dick. “Just a pervert,” she said.
“What do you want, Maggie?”
“I want you dead. I want you to suffer like Anya. I didn’t want her to suffer, but I didn’t have much time.” She jumped up, then kicked him in the balls and he screeched. She didn’t seem to notice.
“She called me and said that someone had died in the fire and we had to confess. Confess! Right, like I was going to admit that I’d killed a man. A man who deserved to die for all the pain and heartache he caused.”
“You killed Jonah Payne.” Leif’s voice was a whisper. He shuddered in pain.
“He thought he was so brilliant, and he wanted everyone to know how brilliant. He didn’t care who he hurt just to prove he was right.”
“There are … other ways.” Leif took a deep breath.
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Payne was only one problem. Anya would have been with me for all of it, but you got to her. You corrupted her. You turned her against me. I hate you. I hate you!”
She kicked him again and Leif’s vision darkened. He closed his eyes and held his breath. Everything hurt. His hands were numb, his groin throbbed, his head spun.
“It was your idea,” he whispered.
“Most of it was my idea. Scott came up with the arson. He got off on setting fires. Anya and I picked the locations. Well, I picked the first place because I needed something from Langlier.”
“What?”
She continued without answering his question. “We were good. We were a great team. Then you started fucking Anya, and she was so goo-goo about you, what a sucker. I told her you just wanted to screw around, but she didn’t believe me. I even told that wuss Holbrook and he didn’t care. Said he would look into it, but he didn’t.”
Leif remembered last year when the dean came to him and asked if he was involved with a student. Leif had denied it, called Anya to warn her, and she’d also denied it when Holbrook called her in. Chris backed her up on it. It had never occured to Leif that it had been Maggie who’d turned on them.
“I had to leave before I did something stupid. I wanted to kill you so bad, but I didn’t have a good plan. It’s all about the plan. I needed to think, to get my head clear. I knew …” Her voice trailed off.
Leif couldn’t hear her, he couldn’t see her. Where had she gone? He fought the restraints. His vision sharpened and took on odd hues of color. Almost like when he’d dropped acid in college. He blinked rapidly and they disappeared, but his head again felt thick and he became nauseated. He had difficulty focusing, but when he closed
