Page 46 of Mine

My life on the surface might have been the opposite of hers. My family was rich, ambassadors who traveled from one European country to another. On the surface, I’d gotten everything I wanted. My mother and father had kept me carefully clothed. They bought me cars, food. They gave me money and arranged dates with other embassy children. But there had been no love. Everything I began to love, they took away.

I only ever loved one girl, and they took her away, too.

I shook the thoughts from my head. The Los Angeles sun beat down on my head, and the whole world looked too bright to be real. Along the street, I passed by shops and bars full of fake people chattering about fake nonsense. All I wanted was to get back to her.

In the grocery store, I ran my hands along the aisles, picking out things I thought she might like. A ribeye that would pair nicely with the Cabernet vintage I’d been saving. Heirloom carrots to add to the mashed potatoes. Once I reached the end of the aisle, I realized I was whistling.

This girl, what was she doing to me?

I bought my groceries, exchanging polite smiles with the cashier. I would have to be more careful, I thought. Today I had the excuse of a date. If this turned into a longer arrangement, though, I would have to spread out my shopping. Buying food for two would be an easy way to get caught.

Turning the corner back onto the street, I thought of the cupcake store I’d be passing by. My mind was on flavors. Chocolate? Strawberry? I wasn’t looking out. I wasn’t thinking.

I’d forgotten that not thinking gets me in trouble. Stupid. Careless.

I didn’t see him waiting for me in the alley.

Sara

I picked up the Manson book that Rien had left for me on the couch. I turned through the pages, skimming it. The first part was all about his childhood, so I flipped through to the middle. There was a statement in his trial testimony that caught my eye. I leaned back on the couch and read through the page.

“We're all our own prisons, we are each all our own wardens and we do our own time. I can't judge anyone else. What other people do is not really my affair unless they approach me with it.Prison's in your mind. Can't you see I'm free?”

Right. Free as a goddamn bird. I looked around at the library walls and laughed. I remember back in kindergarten, my teacher had told us all that if we could read, we could always go and explore new places in our minds. We would never be constrained.

My kindergarten teacher had never been locked in a library by a serial killer, though.

Rien

Vale stepped out behind me, the muzzle of a gun prodding my lower back from under his jacket.

“Rien,” he growled.

“Nice to see you too, Vale,” I said. Such carelessness. And yet, all I could think in that moment was:If I died, how would she escape?

Vale shoved me into the alleyway in front of him and I raised my free hand up casually. “What’s up?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“First, against the wall.”

I turned and waited as he patted me down. In my mind, I ran through my story. I would have to play dumb. I’d killed the couple, sure, I’d killed them. Well, they were locked in my house, anyway, and my security system was unbreakable. It came out to the same thing. Even if I wasn’t planning on killing Sara. Vale kicked my leg out and patted my thighs.

“Feeling frisky? Vale, all you have to do is let me take you out to the club sometime. You’ve got a real Paul Newman thing going on with the blond hair, blue eyes. Maybe we could get you in the pictures.”

“How about you let me buy you a drink,” Vale said, grabbing my arm once he was satisfied I wasn’t carrying a weapon.

A drink? I didn’t want to talk to my boss now.

“It’s a little early.”

“You might need one. I know I do.”

He led me back down to the street and into a shitty dive pub. We went back into a corner booth and he snapped his fingers for the waitress.

“This is a real classy place, Vale,” I said, running a napkin along the sticky tabletop. “I bet if we ask them, they’ll even wipe the table down for us.”

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