Page 47 of Web of Lies
The drive back to the house helps clear my head. I'm not stupid, just delusional. I am, in fact, jealous. I've only known Larken for a few days, but sometimes that's all it takes to form an attachment to someone. Or your idea of them. This is an easy problem to solve. I'll just embark on a crash course on figuring out who Larken is outside of a shitty husband and being the focal point of the job I took. If the idea of her is better than the reality of her, then I'll toss her on her ass in front of her perfect house and let her and her shitty husband sort out their shitty problems.
And if the reality of her is as good as or better than the idea of her that's in my head...making me jealous... I'll keep her.
And kill the husband.
And move into her perfect house.
Maybe get a dog.
Name it Shaun.
~
“How did it go?” Shaun asks when I walk through the door. He and Larken are sitting at the kitchen table playing cards.
I hang the keys on the hook and drape my jacket over the back of a chair before I sit in it. Gin, or rummy. That's what they're playing. Probably Gin based on the discard pile.
“Fine. I didn't see him, just made a delivery. He's either going to call the police or call me. We'll know soon enough. I had some time to think on the way back here. How are you feeling right now, Larken?”
She glances at me then back to her cards. “Better than I was. I think the steam and heat got to me.” She draws a card and tucks it into her hand and then discards onto the pile of cards between her and Shaun.
I reach across the table and turn the pile into a neat stack. “The point of the discard stack is not seeing what's underneath the top card. I'm glad you're feeling better. I need to find out a few things and I'm not trying to take a long time to find them out. I'd like to ask you some questions.”
She looks back at me, pulling the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. “Okay.”
“Do you want me to deal you in on the next round?” Shaun asks as he studies his cards.
“Sure,” I answer. It might be easier to get a better idea of what I'm working with if her mind isn't focused entirely on giving me what she thinks are the right answers. “How long have you been married?”
She balks at the question. “What?”
“How long have you been married?”
“Less than a year. Why?”
“Because. Did you date your husband for very long before you married?”
She goes back to studying her cards. “I don't see what that has to do with the current situation, but yes. Adrian and I dated for a while before he asked me to marry him. It was a fairly basic courtship. He's a little older than me, but that never mattered. Our priorities and ideals lined up for the most part, as well as our professional and personal timelines. He really wanted to prove himself to my Dad.” She frowns, her brows knitting together the longer she thinks. “I don't think that's what he was doing anymore, though. I think he,” she looks at me, stricken. “I think he planned... what if he...” The color drains from her face.
“What?” I ask, watching her closely.
“I didn't want to let myself think about it,” she starts, hesitating. “I've known things weren't right for a while, but it's been so hard to really think about it. Everything has been so foggy because of the shock of my Dad's passing and all the medications and changes. I can't believe I didn't see. I can't believe I let him do this.”
“It's your turn,” Shaun interrupts. He lays a card down on the stack and glances at me before looking at her. “What didn't you see?”
“I think,” her voice breaks off again. “I think Adrian had a plan from the beginning. I think, oh god, I think he killed my dad.”
I look away from her and at Shaun. He nods slowly. “For the money.”
“For the company,” Larken quietly corrects. “Which gets him the money … Forever... Oh my god. That's why he wanted to marry me.”
The gut-wrenching heartbreak on her face, the stark grief, the horror and humiliation seals the deal and my fate. She isn't spoiled. Well, she might be a little spoiled, but she's earned the right to a little spoiling hasn't she? She's been living a lie for so long and she never knew it.
Her eyes are filled with tears, her voice trembling. “I am so angry.” She doesn't sound angry. She sounds devastated.
“I'm so--” I start to apologize but her sob stops me from finishing.
“He killed my dad,” she cries. “It wasn't an accident. He started the fire. He killed my dad.” She breaks off, burying her face in her hands. “He... he...” she stammers, unable to continue.
