Page 87 of He Hate Me

“No one’s coming, Devin,” I tell him. “Your wife is meeting with a lawyer so she can stay out of prison. Deja is never setting foot in this house again. And you, are never walking out.”

“Brandon,” he says, amused, “is that thing even loaded? Do you actually think you can shoot me.”

“The man who gave my mother a drug overdose and then fired her? No, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble shooting you.”

There’s a flicker of surprise in his expression, but nothing more.

“I don’t know what you think⁠—“

“I watched the disks. I almost vomited a dozen times, but I watched what you did to them. An eight-year-old, Devin?”

He throws up his hands as if I just accused him of drinking milk directly from the carton.

“So you know.” He shrugs.

“Why?” My heart races and I try to slow my breathing down. I need to stay in control. Based on his past actions Devin might not hesitate to use the gun against me if he gets his hands on it. I should just finish him now, but I need to understand.

“Why not?” he said. “Lindsey was so weak and easy to manipulate. It was pathetic. The more we saw her weakness, the more contempt we had for her. It was fun as hell to make her do every humiliating thing we could think of. Sex was just…we’re men. Any man with control of a helpless woman is going to take the opportunity to stick his dick in her. The stupid bitch would wake up with her holes sore and never figure out that we’d fucked her.”

Bile rises in my throat, and behind it a wave of anger like I’ve never experienced.

“Sweet little Deja just wandered in one night by pure chance,” he went on. “I’d always been in love with Nisha, but she was Jules’s girl. Deja was like having a little miniature version of her to play with. Until Jules found out.”

“How’d he find out?”

“She had a tummy ache and he examined her. I was the first person he called; it never occurred to him that I was the one who did it. Tanisha was out of town. I told him to wait till she got back before telling her or going to the cops. That gave me about twenty-four hours to set everything up. It didn’t even cost that much money.

“Why are you dragging this out anyway? Aren’t you man enough to pull the trigger? Need me to work you up so you have the balls to do it. You know why your dad left you? I told him Lindsey and I were fucking, and the idiot believed me. Are you as much of a pussy as your sperm donor or did I rub off on you at all.”

“I don’t know how you fooled everyone into thinking you’re a nice guy.”

“Cause I don’t give a fuck, Brandon. I’ll say anything, because I don’t give a shit about any of it or any of you. The only person who matters to me knows exactly what a piece of shit I am and loves me anyway.”

“You think so? Is that why she retrieved the bloody clothes for us? Anton’s already had them destroyed. There is nothing holding him back from crushing you like an insect.”

He watches me, his eyes narrowed. I can see the wheels turning in his mind. His hand tightens into a fist, though he doesn’t seem to be aware of it.

“So you took Tanisha to Anton. How long have you been working for him?”

“How’d you figure that?”

“My wife and I share our locations.”

It’s my turn to fill in the gaps. Devin was able to see where Tanisha was by looking at his phone. He must have been looking for her and seen that she was at Anton’s home. He probably saw her go to the bank as well. That would explain why he’s packing up to leave.

“I don’t know how you forced her to help you,” he says, “but you can tell your boss to watch his back. I’m not going to let some lowlife get away with threatening my wife.”

“No one threatened her, Devin. All Anton had to do was show her the video of you with her daughter.”

For the first time since I came into the room he looks truly upset. Is it possible that he really loves Deja’s mom? It doesn’t seem as if someone like him could love anyone.

“I just need to talk to her,” he says, almost as if trying to convince himself. “Nisha will be able to see that Deja wasn’t harmed. She’s perfectly fine—an overachiever, even. If she doesn’t remember anything then it’s like it never happened.”

“You think the fact that your victims don’t remember means what you did was, okay? What you did to my mother⁠—“

“Was an accident. You’re acting like I did it on purpose.”

He laughs, as if the whole situation is no big deal. An almost serene feeling settles over me. I’ve heard enough. I’m not going to get satisfying answers from him because he’s no more complex than an animal. A simple predator, he preys on others because he can, because unlike a normal person he has no empathy and no conscience.