Page 41 of Possession

Chapter 24

Madeline

“So, was he?”I asked again when Casanova didn’t respond.

“No. My father was first.”

“I see. What did your father do to deserve to die?”

He stared into the cold, empty fireplace, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to. But what about your mother? Is she still… around?” I needed to step lightly with my questioning, because I didn’t want to ask anything that might set him off. Especially considering his response to my last question.

“My mother is still back in Mill Valley. Even after all these years, she never could bear to leave.”

A cold chill raced across the back of my neck, and a sickening knot of dread grew in my belly.

“Mill Valley, California?” My voice squeaked with the question.

He looked at me questioningly. “Of course, that’s where we grew up. You said you remembered Billy. He went to school with us.”

I scrambled to think. "That's right. I don't know where my mind is. Wow, that was a lifetime ago."

“Twenty-five years. But, I'll never forget that day when you kicked Billy. I was the new kid in school and didn't have any friends yet. That day meant everything to me." He chuckled. "I think that was the day my love for you began. Every time you smiled at me, I held it close to my heart. I loved that we shared something special between us. I knew what you were trying to tell me every time you looked my way. That you felt the same way I did. The flutters in my belly whenever you were near. That sense of giddy anticipation knowing I’d see you at school the next day. I was devastated when you moved away and didn't tell me where you were going. You almost broke my heart. But then I realized that you would have told me if you could. Your parents didn’t give you any time. So, I waited patiently until I grew up and could start looking for you. It's taken me this entire time to find you. Now that I have, we can be together. Forever."

Holy shit. Pieces were finally falling into place. I recalled a boy. An outcast. One who was always nearby. Following my friends and me around. They’d wanted me to tell him to leave us alone, but other than being a little weird, he hadn't bothered me. He didn’t try to invite himself into our circle. He was content to remain on the sidelines. But he never strayed far from us. From me. Was this actually him? Had he really been searching for me since fifth grade?

“Grady?” I asked, hesitantly, hoping, yet dreading, I was right.

His eyes widened and his mouth formed the shape of a smile, his lips widening slightly to show the whites of his teeth. I stared intently at his features, trying to bring back the memory of an eleven-year old boy I’d barely known for a year. “See, you do remember me. I knew you would.”

“Of…of course I remember you,” I stuttered. My brain began to filter through everything he’d told me about the letters he’d written. About leaving me clues. About our secret place. I had no idea what he was talking about.

“I’m sorry I was so angry with you earlier. That I hurt you. I just got a little out of control when I thought you had no idea who I was. That you’d forgotten me and how much we meant to each other. It made me so angry. I just reacted.”

The words were right, but the tone wasn’t sincere. It was like he was reciting them by rote. Like he knew what he was supposed to say, but didn’t have the emotion to back up the words. His eyes were still black with evil. Either way, it didn’t matter. I didn’t believe a word he was saying, but he didn’t need to know that. I’d play along so long as it kept me alive.

I nodded sympathetically. “I understand. Sometimes our emotions get the best of us. It’s only natural. I’m sure that’s what happened with those other women.”

Grady’s brows crinkled in puzzlement and his head drew back slightly. “What other women?”

Now it was my turn to be confused. “The ones you killed.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t kill any women.”

“But—” I swallowed hard. “What about the body in my backyard? The letters? I mean you’re Casanova. They said you’ve killed five women.”

He jumped up from his seat in agitation causing me to scramble backwards across the couch. “Stop saying that!”

“I’m sorry,” I held my hands out in a placating gesture.

Grady paced back and forth, the knife still in one of the hands he clasped his head in like he was holding off a headache. Or something else. My eyes tracked the path he wove, keeping a close watch on him. I noticed he was mumbling under his breath, talking to himself. I jerked in alarm when he stopped suddenly and spun around to face me.

“Who the hell is Casanova?” he snapped.

I unfurled myself from my protective position wondering how much I should share with him. It was obvious he truly didn’t know. Maybe I could make this work in my favor. “The FBI are looking for a serial killer who sends love letters to the women he kills. They think you’re him. And now that you have me, they won’t stop until they find me. And you.”

“No, no, no,” he screeched, his composure utterly rattled while he continued to pace. “This can’t be happening.”

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