Chapter Thirty-Eight Him

Chapter Thirty-Eight Him

Five Months Earlier

Addison talked too much. I didn’t discuss my parents. Couldn’t think about them or family vacations or dinner conversations.

I used my trauma cover story to shut down any questions and block out every memory from holiday celebrations to mundane afternoons.

Most people saw my practiced stark expression and their words sputtered out. They nodded or touched my shoulder in sympathy

or used empty phrases to convey a sorrow they could not possibly fathom. A sorrow I’d stomped out of me.

In the beginning, I’d forced myself to replay every minute of that day, every gunshot, that kid who turned the corner at the

wrong time and took a bullet, every echoing scream, all to mute the memories. Eventually, the visions clicked by like a series

of events that happened to someone else. Detached and unreal, almost like an overwrought plot of a bad movie. I watched until

the edges dulled and frayed. Until I forgot about that dead kid. Until I mentally walled off Cooper and my parents. Until

I saw them as puppets dancing to my commands.

Addison cradled her glass between her hands. “Which one of you shot poor in-the-wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time Zach Bryant?”

Right. That was the dead kid’s name. A classmate of Cooper’s and not on my radar.

“Did Cooper do all the shooting?” she asked.

Two guns. Two sons. A rain of bullets. Simple. Neat.

But I stuck to the story I’d created. “I was at school when Cooper shot Mom and Dad in our house. I went in early that day.”

She nodded. “Over an hour early that morning. Then you made sure you were seen by your soccer coach and two other witnesses

before slipping out of the building again. All before classes started.”

“None of this is true.” But it was and that pissed me off.

“You left the car your parents no longer believed you’d earned in the school parking lot to shore up your alibi, dodged security

cameras, and ran home.” She smiled. “I bet you had to practice that a few times to get the timing right.”

Seven months. I repeated the steps in my mind, worked through every piece of my grand design and tinkered when the mental

walk-through failed. The plan demanded a very public ending. If the police came to our house and found my parents’ bodies

I could have been implicated, and there was a strong possibility Cooper would have folded under pressure and confessed.

No, the police had to find Cooper away from home and see him as being on the run and panicking. He had to die. That meant tricking him and putting him in front of witnesses with the murder weapons in his hands while I rushed to dispose of my bloody clothes... but not his. I left his back on the floor near my mother’s bloody head as further evidence of his culpability. In the post-killing frenzy Cooper didn’t notice. He trusted me. Just as I suspected he would.

The timing had been perfect. Adding the school as the final location was the masterstroke. That Zach kid’s death was unfortunate,

sure, but the move put a target on Cooper as the aggressor and sole shooter and made me an avenging angel. I rushed in just

in time. I begged Cooper to stop while everyone watched in horror. I killed him because I had no other choice. Thanks to my

selflessness, I became a national hero, deserving a lifetime of admiration.

“The thing I regret not seeing sooner was how hopeless Cooper felt. He and Dad were fighting. Cooper snapped and shot...

both of them... my parents...” The practiced sucking in of air at just the right time in the made-up retelling. The

perfect crack of my voice. I’d mastered it all. “Then Cooper headed to the school, probably to kill more innocent people.

We’ll never know.”

“You’ve told that story so many times I wonder if you believe it.”

Her amused tone sealed her fate. “You think I want to relive that day?”

“Why not? The scheme is your greatest achievement.” She kept her voice at an almost soundless whisper. “You and your brother

killed your parents but you were in the clear. All the evidence implicated Cooper.”

Cooper thought we were going to school to establish an alibi. That we’d be away from the house and seen by witnesses in the

hallways and on security video before and after the killings. The school wouldn’t be a crime scene. Once I had him wound up

and ready to act, convincing him of the brilliance of my plan wasn’t difficult. He believed I was protecting both of us, but

I wasn’t.

I’d read about a criminal case where the husband played with the house’s thermostat to throw off the estimated time of death. An artificially hot environment could change a corpse’s core temperature and skew calculations. I needed that buffer in case the police figured out I had time to return home, kill my parents, and get back to school.

So, I had Cooper change the thermostat. His fingerprints on it, not mine. His attempt to mess with the temperature, not mine.

Either way I had cover, and his actions were in the spotlight.

But how the hell did she know any of the particulars? There was no way she spun a tale around that damn map that shouldn’t

exist and got this close to the truth.

“I have to hand it to you because this is where your devious nature really paid off. Pulling the fire alarm while your brother

was on his way to dump the weapons left him alone and in full view as students and teachers ran out of their classrooms. Tackling

him, making a huge scene where you begged him to stop and turn himself in, created an audience.” She seemed to relish regurgitating

the timeline. “But you didn’t count on Zach being there.”

I didn’t. He walked in on the scene. Not my fault.

“Everyone watched, thinking you’d saved the school when what you were doing was eliminating a witness and the need to share

your parents’ money. You also got close enough to Cooper that no one would ever question the blood or gunpowder on you from

your parents’ murders.”

Guesses. Had to be... but no one else had guessed. Who the fuck was she? “Why do you care about this? Take the cash I offered

and go.”

“A hundred grand is tempting but too easy for you.” Her soul-crushing smile returned. “You need to feel a fraction of the suffocating terror your family felt as you picked them off one by one, you sick bastard.”

I grabbed her wrist and dragged it onto my lap. Let her feel my strength as I clamped down on the fragile bones of her wrist.

Medical school taught me how to heal, which inadvertently also taught me how to break. “If I’m a cold-blooded killer, why

risk pissing me off?”

She didn’t even wince as I tightened my hold. “Are you still trying to prove you’re innocent?”

I matched her nerve with a load of my own. “I don’t lose, Addison.”

“You’re going to lose everything you care about, leaving you a cracked and empty shell without a family or the pathetic string

of mistresses you can no longer afford. Just another sad wannabe guy who led with his dick, cheated on his wife, and was forced

to move into a small apartment to financially recover. Because you will be paying Kathryn and the kids. I’ll leave you with

enough money for that and only that.”

“You think I’ll let you take this life away from me?” She might know some things about me, but she underestimated my will.

“I’ll put you in the ground first.”

“Do it and everything I have goes public, including... have I mentioned this? The tape.”

The constant string of noise playing in my head cut off. “There’s no tape.”

“The one Cooper made of a conversation with you where you talk about disposing of the weapons. Touch me and everyone hears

it.”

“That tape doesn’t exist.” It couldn’t. Not possible.

“It’s almost as if your brother knew you were going to screw him and made a contingency plan. Guess he was smarter than you

thought.”

I dropped her hand. “You’re a gold-digging whore.”

“Every time you piss me off I add another zero to the amount you’re going to lose.” She flexed her wrist. The only sign the

grab hurt her.

She should get used to my anger. “You can only push a man so far before he shoves back. Enjoy your win. It’s temporary.”

“But ruining you will be forever.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Addison.” If the fake marriage suited me, I’d let it happen. If I needed it to get closer to

her to steal this alleged tape, I would do it because the move came with the side benefit of finally cleaving Kathryn from

my side.

No one blamed men for dumping their older-model wives and trading up. The mistress soaked up most of the hate, which worked

well here. That would take care of Kathryn.

Addison deserved a harsher ending.

One day very soon she would fall to her knees and beg for my mercy. Those would be the last words she ever said.