Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2)(25)

“I don’t know.”

“You’re an interesting guy, Pete. The same weekend your lady love went missing, you ended up in the hospital with a stroke. The hospital paperwork said you suffered from a sudden loss of blood pressure. Digging a little deeper it said you had also lost a lot of blood.”

Pete looked at the man sharply. “You went to the hospital?”

“Like I said, I did my research. So, Pete, the weekend the love of your life supposedly was murdered and buried out in the forest outside of her college, you end up in the hospital from a severe loss of blood. They cover it by calling it a stroke. Meanwhile, her body goes missing, but her dorm room is filled with signs that she may have crawled out of her grave and went home for a nice shower.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Police reports.”

Pete gulped down the rest of his beer. His hands were shaking. He suddenly felt the need to be shit-faced. As the blackness of the night settled into the trees around the campsite, the fireflies flickered among the branches.

Ethan reached over to snag Pete another beer from the cooler.

“The police said she’s dead, Mr. Logan.”

“The police cover things up that they can’t explain. Especially when higher ups tell them to.” Ethan handed him another cold beer.

“They said that the professor dug her back up for Satanic rituals or something. That he was all obsessed with her and wanted to use her for black magic.”

“Yet, Professor Sumner kills himself outside of Shreveport. Kind of convenient don’t you think?”

“He felt guilty?”

Ethan guffawed. “Sure. Guilt. He kills fourteen people and feels guilt. I seriously doubt a man capable of so much death could feel guilt.”

“You think he didn’t kill them?”

“Nope.” Ethan nodded. “He didn’t.”

“Then who did?”

“Amaliya.”

Pete stood up so fast, his chair skidded back and toppled over. “Bullshit!”

Ethan wasn’t affected by Pete’s explosion and slightly shrugged. “Think about it. She dies. Is buried in the forest. But she climbs out, goes and takes a shower, a room full of college kids ends up dead, she disappears. The truck she was using shows up at her dad’s house, and you end up in the hospital. Mr. Rusk from the Dixie Motel tells me that you arrived at the motel with a dark-haired woman in the car. He never saw her face, but we both know who that was, don’t we?”

“I don’t recall,” Pete mumbled. He finished the beer in three hard swallows. His head began to buzz, but he liked the feeling.

“But you’re starting too, aren’t you? You’re starting to see her face. You’re starting to remember that she was the one in the room with you.”

Pete ran his hand over his numbed features. To his embarrassment, he was getting an erection as random images from his dreams drifted over his mindscape. “Uh. Maybe.”

“In your dreams, maybe?” Ethan stood up to check on his dinner. The taller, bigger man didn’t seem at all fazed by the things he was saying. It made the whole evening feel even more surreal.

“I dream about her,” Pete admitted in a weak voice. The wall that had kept that evening from his waking mind was beginning to crumble. He could clearly see Amaliya’s smiling face as he pulled her close for a kiss.

“In that hotel room with you, right?” Ethan continued to flip the meat and placed the onion slices on top of the burgers.

“What are you saying?” Pete demanded. He felt dizzy, a little sick, and terribly afraid.

Ethan set the tongs he was using on the plate on the folding table, then turned around slowly. “Amaliya did die. But she came back. She came back as something different. Maybe she was afraid, not understanding what she was, and she came home. I’m guessing from my encounter with her father and family today that they drove her off. But you, Pete, you loved her. If you saw her wandering around out here alone, what would you do?”

A strong memory unfurled inside of his mind. He saw Amaliya walking along the roadside in the darkness, her bag over her shoulder. Her beautiful face had been illuminated by the headlights of his Mustang has he stopped his car beside her.

“I picked her up,” he whispered. It was a statement. Not a question.

“And took her to the motel,” Ethan continued for him.

“Yeah.”

Pete staggered backwards. Ethan swiftly moved to shove the still-standing chair under him. Pete fell into it heavily. A cascade of memories overwhelmed him. He remembered confessing his love to Amaliya and his hopes she would one day settle down with him. He recalled sneaking her into the motel room and then what had followed. He had been joyously happy as they had made love for hours and then...

The beer in his hand fell to the concrete, its contents splashing over his boots, but he didn’t even notice. He cradled his face in his hands, overcome.

“What happened, Pete?” Ethan asked in a low voice.

“She had no reflection,” Pete whispered.

As clear as day, he recalled looking into the mirror over the vanity and seeing only himself, yet he had held her in his arms, had still been inside of her after their latest sexual romp across the room. “And I was afraid.”

Ethan righted the other chair and sank into it. The sun was so low the stars were now flooding the East Texas sky. In silence, Ethan handed Pete another beer.