Jewels and Panties by Brooke Kinsley

Author:Brooke Kinsley [Kinsley, Brooke]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Lincoln

At first, I thought it was Schiele making that ridiculous sound but then I realized it was Cynthia who was screaming.

"You lousy son of a bitch, loser!" she screeched. "Do you not know what the chemical is capable of?"

"I know fine well what it's capable of! It's you who doesn't know a damn thing! That man out there is insane. He'll do something abominable with it. I can't let that happen."

"Honey," her voice softened. "Don't you see this man is a genius?"

"He's a lunatic."

"A genius."

"A madman."

"He can do what no other person can do."

"You mean he does what no other person would do. He has no sense of decorum. No sense of right or wrong. He's just... He's..."

He lowered his voice and I imagine him leaning down toward Cynthia like a bird of prey coaxing a mouse.

"He's evil," he whispered through clenched teeth but I could hear every single syllable.

Evil, I thought. Is that what I was? No, of course not. It didn't exist, did it? Good and evil were not black and white concepts but instead were an endless spectrum of gray with as many tones as there were people and opinions in the world.

What did feel wrong was pressing my ear up to the door listening to the couple argue. It was peculiar she was fighting my corner and I couldn't help but feel that I had somehow torn apart their marriage. But at the same time, Cynthia clearly wanted it torn apart regardless. If it wasn't me. It would have been someone else. Some other killer she would have sought out.

From behind the door, the words drifted away. There was the sound of a chair falling to the floor then nothing else. Not a single sound permeated the solid oak door. I wondered if they'd made up after all and he'd handed over the case. Maybe if I opened the door, I'd find them embracing each other and the Tricepthial would be sat on the table waiting to be picked up by my eager hand.

I rattled the doorknob but found it wouldn't budge.

"What the hell?"

I must be getting weaker than I realized, I thought. I must be exhausted. Pressing my shoulder into the door, I waited for it to give way it still wouldn't move an inch.

"Cynthia."

She didn't say a thing.

"Cynthia!"

Frustrated, I threw all my weight against the door but nothing happened. Enraged, I kicked at it but all that did was hurt my foot. When did I become so pathetic? I asked myself. A year ago I would have barged in their like the Incredible Hulk. But a year ago I still had my wits about me, still almost resembled a man. A year ago I hadn't met Etta.

I kicked the door one last time and when it failed to open, I gave up and walked away, striding right out to the front of the house where the sun bleached the tiles. It burned the top of my head and my neck as I ambled around the side of the house to the pool.

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