John Locke - Wish List

I waited.

“Fine,” she said. “I won’t deny it.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“She brings out the best in you, even as you bring out the worst in her. But make no mistake, Donovan, you’re a bad influence. The two of you were together for what, eight weeks this last time? And she killed a man?”

“She thought she was protecting me.”

“Oh, please.”

We were quiet again while Nadine sipped her water.

“How’s Rachel now?” I asked.

Nadine shook her head while extending her palms in a gesture of frustration.

“She’s like Starbucks,” she said.

“Starbucks coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s all over the place.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“She’s nuts!”

I frowned. “I thought you guys were opposed to that type of reference. You can’t come up with any four-dollar words?”

“I keep my audience in mind before using technical terms.”

“Funny.”

“Look, Donovan, I know this is hard for you to believe, so let’s take a stroll down memory lane. You didn’t meet Rachel in a conventional way, did you?”

“Not really.”

“In fact, you broke into her house and began living in her attic.”

“To keep an eye on her husband.”

“You remained there for two years.”

“I’m thorough.”

“You were fixated on Rachel.”

“I wouldn’t say fixated.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. But come on, Donovan. You built an elite video command center in her attic. You placed more than forty pinhole cameras throughout her house. From the garage to the bedroom to the toilet, you studied her every move, day and night. You invaded her privacy in the most personal and banal ways imaginable. It’s perverted.”

“You’re making assumptions about my character and choice of viewing habits based on nothing more than the location of forty pinhole cameras.”

Nadine studied me a moment, as if trying to decide whether I’d been angry, indignant, or simply making a point.

“Perhaps I am,” she said.

“At any rate, watching Rachel didn’t make her crazy. She didn’t even know I was there.”

“No she didn’t. Until you told her.”

“By then we were dating. I was being honest with her. You got a problem with honesty?”

“You gathered all this information about her—everything from her medications to her monthly cycle, to her arguments with Sam—and used it to seduce her.”

“We were in love.”

“You might have been in love, but for her it was complete and utter manipulation. To this day she waves to you in the ceiling of every room she enters. How would that make you feel to think someone was watching your every move?”

“Protected?”

Nadine sighed. “You’re hopeless.”

“Watching her didn’t make her crazy.”

She took another long drink of water. “It contributed. Of course, locking her away in a Lucite container, allowing her to think she could be killed at any moment, didn’t help things.”

“It was only two days. Anyway, I took her on vacation afterward.”

“Mighty big of you, taking her to the beach after robbing and killing her husband.”

“I didn’t kill Sam.”

“Really? So we can expect him to come waltzing in here someday? That’s something I’d like to see.”

“You like a good waltz, do you?”

She finished her water, then capped the empty bottle and placed it sideways on the table between us and flicked one end. It spun a few circles and came to a stop. She spun the bottle a few more times until it pointed at me. “I suppose you’ll want to see her now?”

“Being such a bad influence, I’m surprised you’d permit it.”

“What can I say? You sign my checks.”

Chapter 10

“ Kevin! Oh, my God! ”

Rachel had been lying on her bed when I came in. Now she jumped up and ran across the room and started hugging me so hard I nearly dropped her present.

“Hi honey,” I said.

“You came to get me?”

“I came to visit.”

She lifted her T-shirt all the way up to her neck. “Wanna feel my boobies?”

I did. But I doubted Nadine would approve.

“Later, maybe.”

Rachel released her grip and her shirt fell back in place, ending the show like a Broadway curtain ends Act Three.

“You brought me an orchid plant!”

“White orchids still your favorite?”

“You know they are!”

“Then yes, I brought you an orchid plant.”

“I love it! How long are you staying?”

“Not long enough.”

“When you leave, can I go with you?”

“Of course. If that’s what you want.”

“What I want is a big kiss!”

I placed the orchid on the coffee table in her sitting area and we kissed like newlyweds. After awhile she took my hand and led me to the edge of her bed, where we sat.

“I love you,” she said.

“That makes me a lucky man.”

“Say it.”

“I love you, too.”

“I thought I loved Sam, but then I met you.”

“And this is better?”

She nodded.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Of course.”

“Did you kill Sam?”

“No.”

“Promise? It’s okay if you did, I just want to know.”

“I promise.”

A cloud passed over her face.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

“Did I kill him?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then Sam’s alive?”

I didn’t think so. After stealing all the money from Sam’s clients, I left him with my associate, Callie Carpenter, who had expressed a strong desire to kill him. Callie was very good at killing, so I didn’t hold out much hope for Sam’s continued existence.

“Kevin?”

“Huh?”

“Is Sam alive?”

“I can’t say for sure. Why all the questions about Sam?”

“You’re the only one I know to ask. And Nadine says I need closure.”

“If it turns out he’s dead, would that help?”

She thought a moment. “Yup.”

I took out my cell phone, called Callie, and asked if she’d heard from Sam recently. I listened a moment, then hung up and said, “Callie didn’t kill him.”

“So he’s alive?”

“Far as I know.”

Rachel nodded slowly. “Okay, then.”

“You want me to find him?”

“Nope.”

“Wouldn’t be too hard to track him down.”

“He can rot for all I care.”

“Technically, he’s still your husband.”

“He’s a lying, cheating prick.”

He was indeed. However...

“Uh, you lied and cheated on Sam too,” I said.

She looked at me through wide, sincere eyes and said, “That’s different.”

We looked at each other a moment, and she said, “You understand, don’t you?”

I did. Most women believe their cheating is on a higher level than their husbands’ because of the emotional connection they form with their lovers before having sex. Of course, I could argue that an emotional, physical affair is much worse than casual sex. But what do you expect me to say? I’m a guy.

“I do understand why it’s different,” I said.

She smiled brightly. “Thank you, Kevin.”

Rachel knows my name is Donovan Creed, but she’d met me as Kevin Vaughn, and she’s comfortable calling me that. I don’t care what she calls me. Donovan Creed isn’t my real name, either.

“Would you really take me with you?” she said.

“I’ll take you right now if you want.”

She paused. “Where are you going?”

“You mean from here? The first place?”

She nodded.

I took a deep breath. “Well, you might not believe this, but I’ve got a guy and a woman chained to trees in the woods in Southern Indiana. I have to set them free before we can actually do something fun. Oh, and I have to make sure another guy’s wife doesn’t get killed.”