Page 102 of Let the Game Begin
I looked away, breaking eye contact with him and saw Professor Cooper talking to the librarian not far from our table. There was a swell of dread in my chest when I remembered the way Neil had threatened her in that empty classroom.
I observed her for a long time, focusing on one particular detail that had been right there under my nose this whole time: she had blond hair. She was a blond. Like the nurse at the health center, like Jennifer…like I wasn’t. All of Neil’s other lovers were blond.
I just kept staring at her as she sat there in her tasteful dark pantsuit, which made her look beautiful and definitely highlighted her rosy glow.
“Blond…” I whispered, as though this was another piece I needed to complete the puzzle that was Neil Miller.
Lost in these considerations, I grew preoccupied, even ignoring Logan right beside me.
“You’re quiet today,” he told me later when we were heading home in his Audi R8.
“Does your brother have some sort of fixation on blonds?” I murmured, looking out the window at the illuminated signs in all the stores.
Logan was silent for several seconds, and I turned to look at him.
“What makes you think that?” He was watching the road in front of us, but it suddenly seemed like he was on edge. He worried his upper lip and kept drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
“His lovers are all blonds,” I pointed out in a searching tone. I didn’t think it was just coincidence.
“Sure, but I wouldn’t call it a fixation, more like…” He paused to consider. “A preference,” he finished.
So it was true: I wasn’t his type of woman, but until two weeks ago, he had seemed to want me anyway. I shook my head in frustration. Logan knew his brother better than me, and maybe I was just seeing connections where there were none. Neil might have preferred blonds to brunettes, but it wasn’t like rejected the latter either.
“I think he’s also got a fixation on personal hygiene. I mean, how many showers do you take per day?”
We stopped at a traffic light and Logan sighed. He took a long time to respond, and by that point, he seemed actually nervous.
“No, he’s just really into cleanliness. He’s always been like that,” he said placatingly, pretending not to know how many times a day Neil washed himself and how long he spent in the shower.
Whatever Logan knew, he wasn’t going to tell me. Neil was still his brother, while I was just…a friend, I supposed.
When we arrived at the house, I got out of the car and slowly made my way up to the front steps. I took them sluggishly, but before I could reach the front door, I spotted a package right in front of it.
Another one.
I glanced around, but there was no sign of anyone, so I knelt down in front of the package, careful not to touch it.
“Selene, what are you doing?” Logan caught up to me and halted when he saw the dark box that had my full attention.
“Shit. Again?” he asked warily.
“Again,” I confirmed, looking up at him.
After just a moment’s hesitation, we went into the house, carrying the box and all the stress that came with it.
We sat down on the living room sofa, not even bothering to greet Anna, who was occupied with household chores. Both of us were experiencing a wicked case of déjà vu.
Logan sighed, and I gave his shoulder a pat to encourage him to open the package. He did so with such creeping slowness that it shredded my nerves and skyrocketed my anxiety.
When it was finally open, he pulled out an object wrapped in black paper, which he tore roughly away. All we could see was…
“What the hell?” he blurted out.
“It’s a music box…”
It was white and blue, decorated with clouds and angels, presumably to represent heaven.
“This should make it play.” I turned a small crank on the back of the box, and a strange piece of music began to waft through the living room. The music box slowly rotated on its base and then opened like a shell to reveal an angel with clipped wings, its face painted red and its eyes gone.
