Page 183 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

“But I can show you where I dropped him off at his request. If you want me to, anyway.” I say it as if it’s just a boring fact. Like there’s nothing to really worry about, and like he won’t find anything there.

Which, honestly, he won’t.

“I’m not sure you could GPS it.” I need a reason for him to go, so I add that part before he can suggest otherwise. I don’t want to seem excited, or nervous. My veins hum with excitement and trepidation, and my heart beats with intent in my chest to make itself known.

Don’t go down that well, Tova.

Cass’s words ring in my head, and I send him a silent apology for what I’m planning to do. He wouldn’t approve, and he’d absolutely try to stop me.

“All right.” Flanagan’s response makes my blood surge, though I don’t let it show on my face. It’s so hard not to smile at how easy this is, and I just watch him with that same, impassive look on my face. “Is it far? I’m not riding with you, but I’ll follow, if you’re offering.”

“I’m offering,” I agree flatly. “And it’s about thirty minutes or so, depending on traffic.” Probably closer to forty-five.

“Tova…” Esme’s voice is a soft hiss from the kitchen, and I glance her way with a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay,” I assure her, meeting her gaze and keeping my words slow so she doesn’t mistake them for anything else. “It’s all good, Es. I don’t mind taking him. If it helps him find Alan⁠—”

Flanagan snorts. “I think the cops have already found Alan,” he admits in an unfriendly voice. “But until one of you is ready to admit what really happened that night, I’ll go along with this little game. I’ll even give you the benefit of the doubt and say I might believe you. His mother said he liked to take himself out of situations to walk off his emotions.”

That’s an interesting way oforher to say that he had an anger problem. But I shrug and head for my room to grab my shoes and a hoodie, though I make a stop at my dresser for the box cutter inside that Larkin had so meticulously cleaned before giving back to me at dinner a few nights ago.

It’s heavy in my hands, prompting me to stand still in the middle of my room for a moment with Yoichi twining around my shoulders like a devilish familiar. My thumb tests the edge of the blade, and the sharpness sends a shiver up my spine.

Last time, Flanagan got away from me without knowing it. Though it was probably for the best, since killing him in a parking garage would’ve been both messy and public. But this time, with excitement rather than anger fueling me and a plan coming together in my head, things will be different.

This time, Flanagan will serve more than one purpose for me, though he doesn’t know it yet. I’ll happily admit to him what I did, once we’re at the place I threw Alan’s body over the cliff to be gnawed on by the animals living in the water below.

I’ll give him an ending to his investigation.

And then I’ll give myself the closure I crave, and finally decide if I’m everything Larkin wants me to be. More importantly, if I’m everything my mother feared, and the thing I’ve been hiding from for all these years.

21

The entire ride to the bay is silent. Before I left, I could see Esme fighting herself, feeling like she should offer to go with me out of a misplaced sense of duty, but I never gave her the chance.

This isn’t for her, after all.

This is for me.

This is what I want to do.

My hands don’t shake on the steering wheel, but the trip blurs by as possibilities roll through my head like a speeding train; one after another after another.

I don’t have to do this, some small part of me whispers. I can back out now, lie, and make up something about how he walked off down the trail to do whatever the hell it is Alan did when he was pissed.

But that thought shrinks as soon as it flits through my head, becoming completely undesirable even before it’s fully formed. That isn’t what I want.

My breath catches after I park, and for a few tense seconds, I worry Flanagan hadn’t actually followed me like I thought he did. The last leg of the trip was mostly back roads, with only a few cars on the path, but there was definitely someone following me at a distance.

I think.

I can hear the tires crunch over the rocks, and a car pulls up beside me in the otherwise empty, semi-gravel area. Before he’s even turned off the engine, I’m out of my car to lean against the door, with the cool night air brisk and refreshing on my cheeks as I tilt my head back to stare up at the full moon. In my head, I swear I can hear the crash of waves, though we aren’t close enough to the water for that to be real.

I haven’t felt this clear in weeks. Months.

Years, if I’m being honest with myself. Excitement hums through my veins, and I’m acutely aware of the box cutter in my pocket.

His car door closes and footsteps sound on the gravel, before becoming light rustles in the grass that’s overtaken most of the parking lot after years of failed upkeep. I glance to the side to see Flanagan glancing around, derision on his face. “This is where you dropped him off?” he asks in a tone of disbelief. “Seriously?”