Before She Knew Him(70)

“I know everything. I know what you’ve told my wife, and she’s going to tell the police everything. You’re fucked. I’m just here now to tell you to stay away from Hen, or you’re in even bigger trouble than you already are.”

Matthew felt a familiar sense of calm and elation come over him. He walked steadily toward Lloyd with purpose, watching Lloyd’s eyes shift back and forth, panicking, trying to decide what to do. When he was a step away Lloyd swung at him, a slow haymaker, hitting him inexpertly on the upper third of his left ear. Matthew grabbed Lloyd by his T-shirt—for some band called Scruffy the Cat—then put his right foot behind Lloyd’s legs and pushed him backward, holding on to the T-shirt so that he wouldn’t go down too hard on the pavement. Once he was on the ground, Matthew kneeled on his chest, pushing Lloyd’s right arm down and using his other hand to press against the side of Lloyd’s face. This left Lloyd’s left arm free, and he grabbed hold of Matthew’s neck, scratching at the skin just beneath his hair. It didn’t hurt that much, and Matthew thought that Lloyd had probably clipped his nails recently and how that was a good thing. He leaned harder on Lloyd’s chest, being careful to not break anything, until Lloyd passed out from lack of air.

Matthew stood, breathing heavily, pressing his hand against his neck where Lloyd had scratched him. It felt like a minor scratch, slightly sticky where the skin might have broke, but it wasn’t too bad. He took two big gulps of air, then bent and pulled a hair from Lloyd’s head. Lloyd’s eyelids fluttered, and he began to cough. All Matthew would have to do was lean again on his chest, stay there this time, until Lloyd passed from this world to the next. It would be so simple and so satisfying. But instead, Matthew pocketed the hair, got back into his Fiat, and drove it around to the front of the school, parking in his usual spot. It was twenty minutes until his first class began.





Chapter 33




Hen had nearly called 911 about five times in the hour since she’d discovered Lloyd was missing, but each time she stopped herself, imagining the conversation.

Ma’am, how long has he been missing?

Just a few hours.

Is there any reason you can think of that he might have left? Had you two had a fight?

Yes. I found out he’s been having an affair for the past year.

Don’t you think, ma’am, that that might have something to do with the fact that he’s missing?

Well, let me tell you about the serial killer who lives next door . . .

Instead, she forced herself to make coffee and to eat a piece of toast, then went to the porch with her mug and her phone, telling herself she’d wait. He’d show up soon, even though part of her believed something really terrible had happened.

She was on the cusp of calling 911 again when she decided to call Detective Martinez in Cambridge instead. She’d mentioned his name to the local detectives investigating Scott Doyle’s death and figured that maybe he’d been updated. If he hadn’t, then she could tell him what was going on. His phone rang about six times, and just as Hen had decided he wasn’t going to pick up, there was a click and then his voice saying, “Hi, Hen,” almost as though they were old friends.

“Oh, hi, Detective,” Hen said. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

“I do. What’s up?”

“Did you hear about Scott Doyle, the man who got killed at the Rusty Scupper in New Essex?”

“Yeah, I definitely did. Couple of detectives each called me about it from there. Said you were an eyewitness and that you’d mentioned my name.”

“I saw the whole thing.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“It was Matthew Dolamore. I saw him as clearly as I’ve seen anyone, but that’s not exactly why I’m calling you.”

“Okay,” the detective said.

“Did you hear the rest? How I have a previous arrest for stalking a fellow student in college and claiming she’d attempted murder?”

“I did hear about that.”

“And that Matthew Dolamore and his wife now have a protective order out against me?”

“I’d heard they were going to apply for one.”

“Well, it got approved. Not that it’s stopped Matthew from coming to me. We’ve been talking, the two us. And he’s told me everything. He told me how he killed Dustin Miller, and he told me how he killed Scott Doyle. He’s telling me because he thinks it’s safe, he thinks no one will believe me.”

“When did he tell you all this?”

Hen told him about their three meetings and everything that Matthew said, including the strange way in which he’d mentioned his brother the night before. She knew, as she was saying it, how crazy she must sound, but she kept going, telling it exactly as it had happened.

“I don’t suppose you taped any of these conversations?” the detective asked.

“He patted me down the first time we met. He’d thought of that as well. No, I didn’t. Look, thing is, what I’m worried about now is that my husband’s missing.”

“Your husband’s missing?”

“Since this morning. I told him everything I just told you last night, and I got up this morning and he’s gone, and the car’s gone, and his cell phone is here. I’m worried he went after Matthew himself. I’m kind of freaking out, if you want to know the truth.”