The Woman Next Door by T. M. Wright

Author:T. M. Wright [Wright, T.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Horror
Publisher: Crossroad Press

Marilyn's eyes narrowed to slits, as if in caricature of a suspicious woman. It was all so clear, even in the way he mixed his drink (he was taking too long; he never took more than a few seconds), in the way he kept his back to her, in his falsely animated conversation at dinner—clear that he was hiding something from her.

"Brett?" She tried to keep her tone even.

"Yes?" he said. He too, she could hear, was straining for the right tone.

"I was wondering how your day went," she said.

Brett smiled nervously. She knew. Or at least she suspected. He forced himself to relax, in fear that she could see, something of his smile even though his back was turned. "It went okay, nothing special."

"I called your office; you weren't there. I called a couple days ago, too, and your secretary had no idea where you were."

"Yes, well, today I went out for a few hours to bid a job. I won it, too." He turned, looked at her. "You know the place; it's over on Aberdeen Street. Great big fieldstone house."

"Uh-huh. When was that?"

"Oh, I don't know, Marilyn." He tried to sound vaguely annoyed. "Between three and five, I guess. Why the third degree?"

"I didn't know that's what I was doing."

"Would you like to see the bid sheet?" He knew he was overplaying his hand now.

"Why would I want to see the bid sheet, Brett? Are you saying I don't believe you?" She joined him at the bar, grinned oddly at him (it made him instantly uncomfortable) and fixed herself a daiquiri. "Of course I believe you. You've never lied to me about anything. Why should you start now?"

No, Brett realized, she knew nothing of Andrea; she was only guessing. "Of course I lied to you, Marilyn."

She stifled a gasp. Go on, her silence told him. A tiny bead of perspiration appeared on her forehead, at the hairline; he watched it for a moment, fascinated, then turned and added more scotch to his drink. You're drinking too much.

"Yes," he continued. "You got me a pair of pajamas, white with blue stripes. Remember? Christmas seventy-six?"

She said nothing.

"I told you how nice they were, how much I liked them." He sipped his drink, grimaced; it was too strong. "Well, I despised them, I really did. It's taken me five years to confess that, but at last I have, and I've gotta tell you, it feels—"

"Don't be an ass, Brett."

"I'm merely responding to your suspicions, Marilyn."

She grinned at him again, and now he was able to define what he had seen in that grin before, what he had seen and—for his own sake, for Greg's sake, for her sake—denied: malevolence. And hatred—uncompromising, unlimited hatred—subtle but unmistakable, like the symptoms of a disease in its first few minutes.

"Brett, I have no suspicions." And she turned and left the room.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.