Page 91 of The Dearly Departed

It was a stunning watercolor representation of the setting sun, its golden rays glinting off the sparkling seas. A lighthouse was cast off in the distance, its beckoning light a beacon of guidance and hope. Memories from my youth came to mind. I remembered when I'd walk down to the dock with Anna, where we'd watch the seagulls circle the sky and the boats skim the water's surface.

Those fleeting moments of serenity had always brought peace and comfort to my soul, and the salty breeze whispered promises that one day, if I was fortunate enough, I could feel that way all the time.

One day, when I was adopted by a good family.

One day, when I was older and had money.

One day, when I could get far away from bad luck and bad people.

But the ocean had lied.

There had been no room for permanent peace for the boy I was, and it was too late for the man I had become.

And, hey, maybe peace was overrated. Maybe I didn't want to feel comfort and stability every single day for the rest of my life. Maybe I’d be bored.

I'm so full of shit, I thought with a melancholy smirk, my somber gaze still on that painting. Just like the ocean, telling lies to help me cope with this shitty life.

"Well, hello there."

A smooth voice pulled my eyes away from the painting to watch as Virginia, Gerald's wife, entered the room, looking like a countess drifting effortlessly from one space into the next. She wore a pale green nightgown that dusted the floor, its length dancing around her bare feet as she approached with a tall glass of water in her hand.

"I wasn't aware we had company," she said, her hips swaying as she walked.

For the sake of being polite, I stood and bowed my head in lieu of a greeting. "Dean told me to wait in here," I explained. "I was just"—I waved toward the painting across the room—"admiring the artwork."

She gestured flightily with her hand as she took a sip of her water, her eyes on me as she drank. Then she said, "Ah, yes. My daughter, Analise … she paints all of these. She's an extremely talented artist."

Startled by this tidbit of information, I cast my gaze around the room to scan the rest of the paintings adorning the walls. The night of the party, I had noticed them briefly but assumed they were expensive works of art, purchased from galleries around the world. I hadn't expected that the woman who'd captured my attention could also be the one to put paint to the canvas.

You are full of surprises, Analise.

"I guess that's a little silly," Virginia added, her lips quirking momentarily into a smile of adoration. "You know, to keep your child's artwork hanging all over the walls …"

She uttered a light, contemplative sound as she turned her head, casting her eyes this way and that, addressing the artwork in question, as if they were nothing but crayon-drawn stick figures on sheets of construction paper.

"But …" A forlorn sigh was released from her lips as she looked at me again. "Do you have children?"

I shook my head. "I do not."

She allowed her gaze to linger on me then, and in that moment, I remembered the way she had looked at me at dinner the night of Gerald's birthday party, the interest I saw in her eyes then. It was still there, as alive as it'd been that night. It had irked me then, left me judging. But the darkness I saw tonight, mingling there with that hunger, rendered my soul unsettled.

"I've seen you here before," she said, indicating that she recalled that night too.

Hell, who could forget?

"You were here for Gerry's birthday."

I nodded once. "I was."

"That was a costume party," she went on, her eyes raking over my frame, like she was trying to undress me with her mind alone. "But you're still dressed up like it’s Halloween."

She took a step closer and lifted the glass again to her lips. Her eyes flitted toward my masked face as her unused hand touched the low neckline of her nightgown, her fingertips dancing over her deep, surgery-enhanced cleavage.

"Gerry isn't the only one who gets what he wants," she whispered in a way meant for seduction, taking that hand and laying it against my chest.

I narrowed my eyes from beneath the mask as I wrapped my hand around hers and forcefully pulled it away, letting it drop to her side.

"I'm not interested," I replied in a lower, quieter, more menacing voice.