The room goes lightning-bright again. Thunder rumbles.
“Anyway. Katie.” He’s looking out the window now, across the park. “Like I told you, she found us in Boston, but Mom wouldn’t let her talk to me. And then she found us in New York, just showed up one day when I was alone. She showed me that locket with my picture in it. And I talked to her, because I was interested. And especially because I wanted to know who my father was.”
Now he swings his eyes toward me. “Do you know what it’s like, wondering if your father is as screwed up as your mother? Hoping he isn’t? But she just said it didn’t matter. He wasn’t in her photos. She did have photos. All that was true, you know.
“Well . . .” He looks sheepish. “Not all of it. That day you heard her scream? I had my hands around her neck. Not even that hard, but I was sick of her by that point. I just wanted her to leave. She went crazy. She wouldn’t shut up. My dad didn’t even know she was there until then. He was like, ‘Get out of the house before he does something bad.’ And you called, and I had to pretend I was all scared, and then you called again, and my dad pretended it was all cool . . .” He shakes his head. “And the bitch still came back the next day.
“By that point I was bored with her. Seriously bored. I didn’t care about the photos. Didn’t care that she’d learned to sail or was taking sign-language classes or any of it. And like I said, she wouldn’t say anything about my father. Probably she couldn’t. Probably didn’t even know him.” He snorts.
“So, yeah. She came back. I was in my room and I heard her arguing with my dad. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wanted her gone, I didn’t care about her sob story, I hated her for what she did to me, I hated her for not telling me about my father, I wanted her out of my life. So I grabbed this from my desk”—he waves the letter opener—“and went downstairs, and ran in, and just . . .” He drives it downward. “It happened really fast. She didn’t even scream.”
I think of what he told me just a few hours ago: how Jane stabbed Katie. And I remember how his eyes darted left.
Now his eyes are bright. “It was kind of, like, exhilarating. Just pure luck you didn’t see what happened. Or not all of it.” He looks at me hard. “You saw enough, though.”
He steps toward the bed slowly. And again.
“My mom has no idea. About any of it. She wasn’t even there—she got back the next morning. My dad made me swear not to tell. He wants to protect her. I feel kind of bad for him. That’s a pretty big secret to keep from the person you’re married to.” He steps a third time. “She just thinks you’re insane.”
One more step, and now he’s standing beside me, the blade level with my throat.
“So?” he says.
I whine with terror.
Then he sits on the edge of the mattress, the base of his back against my knees. “Analyze me.” He cocks his head. “Fix me.”
I recoil. No. I can’t do this.
But you can, Mommy.
No. No. It’s over.
Come on, Anna.
He has a weapon.
You’ve got your mind.
All right. All right.
One, two, three, four.
“I know what I am,” says Ethan, soft, almost soothing. “Does that help?”
Psychopath. The superficial charm, the labile personality, the flat affect. The letter opener in his hand.
“You—grew up hurting animals,” I say, trying to steady my voice.
“Yeah, but that’s easy. I gave your cat a rat I cut up. I found it in our basement. This city is disgusting.” He looks at the blade. Looks back at me. “Anything else? Come on. You can do better than that.”
I draw a breath and guess again. “You enjoy manipulating others.”
“Well, yeah. I mean . . . yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s fun. And easy. You’re really easy.” He winks at me.
A tap at my arm. I flick a glance to my side. My phone has slid down the pillow, lodged against my elbow.
“I came on too strong with Jennifer.” He looks thoughtful. “She got—it was too much. I should’ve gone slower.” He lays the blade flat on one thigh, strokes, as though whetting it. It zips against the denim. “So I didn’t want you to think I was a threat. That’s why I said I missed my friends. And I pretended I might be gay. And I cried all those fucking times. All so you’d feel sorry for me and think I was this . . .” Trailing off. “And because, like I said, I sort of can’t get enough of you.”
I close my eyes. I can see the phone in my head as though it’s illuminated.
“Hey—did you notice when I undressed in front of the window? I did that a couple of times. I know you saw me once.”
I swallow. Slowly I pull my elbow back into the pillow, the phone dragging along the flesh of my forearm.
“What else? Daddy issues, maybe?” He smirks again. “I know I’ve been talking about him some. My real father, not Alistair. Alistair’s just a sad little man.”
I feel the screen against my wrist, cool and slick. “You don’t . . .”
“What?”
“You don’t respect other people’s space.”
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”
I nod again. Brush the screen with my thumb.
“I told you: you interested me. That old bitch down the block told me about you. Well, not everything, obviously. I’ve learned a lot since. But that’s why I brought that candle over. My mom had no idea. She wouldn’t have let me.” He pauses, considers me. “I bet you used to be pretty.”
He moves the letter opener toward my face. Slips the blade beside a lick of hair on my cheek, flicks it away. I flinch, whimper.
“That lady just said that you stayed in your house all the time. And that was interesting to me. This weird woman who never went outside. This freak.”
I wrap my hand around the phone. I’ll swipe to the passcode screen and let my fingers walk out those four numbers. I’ve tapped them so many times. I can do it in the dark. I can do it with Ethan sitting next to me.
“I knew I had to get to know you.”
Now. I touch the button on the phone, press it. Cough to mask the click.
“My parents—” he begins, turning to the window. He stops.
My head turns with him. And I see what he sees: the glow of the phone, reflected in the glass.
He gasps. I gasp.
I snap my eyes to him. He stares at me.
Then he grins. “I’m kidding.” He points at the phone with the letter opener. “I already changed the code. Right before you woke up. I’m not stupid. I’m not going to leave a working phone right next to you.”
I can’t breathe.
“And I took out the batteries from the one in the library. In case you were wondering.”
My blood stops.
He gestures toward the door. “Anyway. I’ve been coming over at night for a couple of weeks, just walking around, watching you. I like it here. It’s quiet and dark.” He sounds thoughtful. “And it’s kind of interesting, the way you live. I feel like I’m doing research on you. Like a documentary. I even”—he smiles—“took your picture with your phone.” A grimace. “Was that too much? I feel like that was too much. Oh—but ask me how I unlocked your phone.”
I say nothing.
“Ask me.” Threatening.
“How did you unlock my phone?” I whisper.
He smiles broadly, like a child who knows he’s about to say something clever. “You told me how.”
I shake my head. “No.”
His eyes roll. “Well, okay—you didn’t tell me.” He leans toward me. “You told that ancient bitch in Montana.”
“Lizzie?”
He nods.
“You—were spying on us?”
He heaves a deep sigh. “God, you really are stupid. By the way, I don’t teach disabled kids how to swim. I’d rather kill myself. No, Anna: I am Lizzie.”
My mouth drops open.
“Or I was,” he says. “She’s been getting out of the house a lot lately. I think she’s all better. Thanks to her sons—what are their names?”
“Beau and William,” I answer, before I can stop myself.
He giggles again. “Holy shit. I can’t believe you remember that.” Laughing more now. “Beau. I swear I just made that up on the spot.”