Page 30 of The Obsession

I almost snorted out loud at the mention of Brandon’s life insurance. It was one of the many gestures he made earlier on in their relationship to prove what a good guy he was. To prove how much he cared. “Look, babe,” he’d said, presenting the insurance papers with a flourish. And Mom had fallen for it. So had I, actually. As far as gestures went, it had been a damn convincing one.

Mom gave a bitter laugh. “I know how they are, all right. It took ages after Dee’s father passed for his insurance company to pay out.”

“I really hope Brandon’s insurance company pays out before college. I’ve heard international student fees are no joke,” Mendez said.

“Yep, they’re brutal,” Mom said. She glanced at me and smiled proudly. “But Dee here has been working really hard at her part-time job. They pay so well, much more than you’d expect from part-time work at a school!”

Mendez’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

My stomach curdled. The last thing I wanted to talk about right now was my part-time job. I tried a small laugh, which came out wooden. “Mom’s exaggerating.”

“What is it exactly that you do, Dee?” Mendez asked.

“Just boring, old library stuff,” I said quickly. Too quickly? Shit.Change the subject, quick!

“I don’t know about boring. You’re helping to save up for college,” Mom said. She turned to Mendez. “That’s why it means so much to hear that you’re following up on Brandon’s life insurance. It’ll help us out a lot, Detective.”

“Please, call me Val.” She hesitated for a second. “I just wanted to—uh, this might be inappropriate, but, um, I know Brandon might not have been the easiest person to get along with sometimes, and I always wondered if he—um, you know—”

“Brandon was…” Mom stared into her coffee. Her voice came from afar. “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but…” Mom said, and her chin trembled a little. Then she looked straight into Mendez’s eyes and an understanding passed between them. Mendez nodded, her face registering no surprise, only an I-knew-it expression.

My stomach plunged. Mom had pretty much given Mendez the information she’d been hankering for—that we were being abused by Brandon, that we had a motive for killing him. Mom didn’t care if we had a motive for killing Brandon; she thought his death was an accident. She couldn’t notice the new way Mendez was looking at us. I could almost hear her thoughts whirring away, the mental calculation speeding as we sat there sipping our coffees and nibbling at doughnuts—they both have motives, which one did it, the mother or the daughter, the mother or the—

Mendez’s gaze flicked from Mom to me, quick as a striking snake. Too fast. I was caught with my mask off. Something flickered in her eyes, and I felt the firm hand of the law closing around me, squeezing. Crushing. I saw the answer in her eyes, searing bright.

The daughter.

* * *

The rest of Saturday passed by in a haze. After Mendez left, I wandered around the house with my headphones on. They weren’t plugged into anything; they were there so I wouldn’t have to talk to Mom.

More texts from Aisha.Helloooooo? Details about the date pls!

I began to type out:It was goo—

Nope. Couldn’t make myself do it. My stomach clenched, my teeth clashed. The thought of telling Aisha, of all people, that my date with Logan went well…

I turned off my phone instead and went back to trying to figure out how to get out of the shitstorm my life had become. But I was no cunning plotter. I knew I was hopelessly outmatched by both Logan and Mendez. Both were strategists—meticulous, able to see the big picture, patient enough to stick to the step-by-step aspects of their plans. And here I was, stuck between them.

Hah.

The same nightmares plagued me that night, and in the morning, I awoke with a start when Mom knocked on my door.

“You’re gonna be late for school,” she said.

“I’m up,” I called out, then I remained in bed and stared at the ceiling for a while.

A delicious smell wafted through the door, tickling my nostrils. Something bready along with eggs and sausages and coffee. Despite myself, my mouth watered. What did I have for dinner? Mom had gone out with her friends, and I…had a big plate of nothing. Maybe I’d feel better after a good meal. I got dressed and bounded down the stairs. “I’ll have a big plate of whatever you’re making, Mom,” I said, halfway down.

“Morning!” someone said. Someone who was distinctly not Mom.

Logan.

My legs forgot how to move. I stood there, staring at him, my stalker, my blackmailer, as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding a frying pan loaded with what looked like diced mushrooms and onions. What the hell was up with people thinking they could drop by my house for breakfast?

“Take a seat,” he said.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Mom said, her head popping from behind the fridge door. She took out a carton of tomato juice. “Logan brought bagels and offered to cook us breakfast. Why didn’t you tell me the two of you are partners in chemistry lab?” She placed a glass in front of me and poured some juice into it.

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