Page 137 of Wicked Little Secret

Driving past the on-ramp that will take me to the suburb where I live, I drive deeper toward the heart of Castlebury.

I park several blocks down from the apartment building where Nyssa Oliver lives. The street’s asleep. The building’s dead. Everything’s silent and still except for the monotonouspitter-patterfrom the downpour.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, Miss Oliver,” I whisper under my breath.

The lock clacks as I let myself into her apartment, indifferent to the possibility she could be home. She could be gone.

It doesn’t matter anymore.

I’m no longer a man driven by rationale and logic. I’m a man operating off dark impulses that would concern me in the light of day.

I stalk her shadowy apartment without bothering with any lights. My boots thud on the flooring, a heavy and threatening sound in the middle of the night.

Her bedroom’s empty. Peaches dozes peacefully on her pillow. I sit down on the edge and reach out a hand to affectionately stroke along her spine. The little tabby shudders out a soft breath as she continues sleeping.

Nyssa Oliver has no idea what she’s done by betraying me tonight. She has no idea what will be waiting for her when she returns home.

I rise up and wander the rest of her most private space. I pull open drawers and check shoeboxes in her closet. Books are overturned and old suitcases dug into.

Soon I lose myself in my frantic search for it.

The notebook I’d come across before where I’d seen a list of names written down. My own was on a separate page with lipstick smudges.

Little did I know then, the rest of the book detailed her great master plan.

A grunt of triumph leaves me as I check under her mattress and my fingers feel the paper-thin notebook pages.

I wrench the book out from under and then flick on her bedside lamp, poring over what she’s neatly written inside.

Handwriting I’ve admired from the first dayof class. Handwriting that looks more and more familiar as I read through each line…

Finally, the last page emerges with my name scribbled down and a myriad of bullet points that serve as evidence she’s gathered. Reasons she’s pieced together to figure out that I’m who she thinks I am.

Valentine.

I smirk as I’m doing the same for her. The epiphany hits me like a freight train collision, and suddenly I see Josalyn clear as day.

The truth has been right in front of me all along.

“Tsk, tsk, Miss Oliver… you put in the effort, but it’s a failing mark. You might not understand who I am. But I know exactly who you are.”

28

NYSSA

ME AND MY HUSBAND - MITSKI

Professor Adler is waitingat the front of the classroom come Monday morning after winter break. My heart stops as my feet do. I hover in the doorway to the lecture hall, clutching my bookbag over my shoulder, my skin running cold.

Heather’s right behind me and makes a sound of annoyance. “Nyssie, hello? Move out of the way so the rest of us can walk in.”

“Oh… sorry…” I step aside, then my gaze snaps back toward the front.

My eyes meet his.

His dark, mysterious pools that are already on me. His face more stoic than I’ve ever seen it.

A shiver courses my spine. I blink and look away, stumbling toward my desk next to Heather.

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