Before She Knew Him(83)

“Did your dad kill women?” Hen asked.

Matthew appeared to think for a while. “I don’t think I want to talk about my dad anymore,” he said.

“That’s okay,” Hen replied. “I’m curious, that’s all.”

“You just want to keep me talking until you can decide whether you can run faster than me.”

Hen forced herself to smile. “A little bit,” she said. “I mean, more than a little bit. I’m scared of you, Richard. I’m sure you realize that. But I’m also curious. You’re so different from your brother, and I want to know why. You grew up in the same house with the same parents.”

“We’re not that different,” he said. “Matthew pretends to be all noble and good, but down deep he knows he’s just like his dad. He has bad thoughts, too, you know. He probably had bad thoughts about you.”

“But he doesn’t act on them.”

Matthew blinked and pursed his lips. “No, he doesn’t act on them with women. He doesn’t do that. But he still kills people. He gets off on it, too. He’ll tell you he doesn’t. He’ll tell you that he hates blood, and he really just wants certain people to go away, people like Dad, people who hurt other people, but it’s not true. When he killed Dad he got a taste for it, and now he gets to keep doing it.”

“And what about you? You don’t act on it?”

“I didn’t, no. I didn’t for years and years and years. Matthew got to have all the fun, and all I got was an occasional fantasy. He wouldn’t even let me know what I was missing, wouldn’t tell me about it. Pretended he was perfect. But I knew his game. He made a mistake and told me about Michelle, his fellow teacher, and how he gave her advice, and she had this crush on him, and as soon as I found out that Michelle had some creepy boyfriend, I knew. I knew that he was gearing up again. So after he killed Scott Doyle, I went and paid a visit to Michelle. I can’t tell you . . . she was so happy to see me because she thought I was Matthew at first, same way you did. But she didn’t like Richard. She didn’t like me at all.”

“Was that the first time you hurt a woman?” Hen asked.

“Pretty much.” Matthew smiled at her, but Hen thought it was a fake smile, the rest of his face grim and uncertain.

“I don’t think you liked it,” Hen said, bracing herself. She now thought she could make it to the door if she needed to. She just wasn’t sure she could swing it open and get through it before he got hold of her with his big hands.

“I didn’t like it, I loved it.”

“I don’t believe you, Richard. I think a part of you is upset about what you did.”

“Dad loved blood, too,” Matthew said.

“But Matthew hates it,” she said.

“Matthew hates blood because he saw Dad make Mom bleed and he never got it out of his mind. She just sat there with the blood coming out of her nose, and she didn’t do anything to stop it. There was a napkin right on the table, and she never picked it up, just let it sit there. Can you imagine doing that in front of your own kid? Imagine letting him see that.”

“But it was your dad who made her bleed, wasn’t it?”

“She was asking for it.”

“What about Michelle? Was she asking for it as well?”

Matthew ran his fingers through his hair. “She called up a married man and asked him over to her apartment all alone. She did it when she knew his wife was away. What kind of woman does that?”

“Maybe she just wanted someone to talk with.”

“There’s no such thing. She wanted Matthew all to herself so she could suck his cock.”

“I don’t believe you,” Hen said. “I’m friends with Matthew and Matthew is friends with me, and it has nothing to do with sex.”

“That’s bullshit. He’s had dirty thoughts about you, and I bet that you’ve had dirty thoughts about him.”

“I haven’t, Richard. I haven’t had any. I’m not lying to you. I’m telling you the entire truth, I promise. And maybe it was the same way with Michelle, maybe she just wanted a friend.”

Matthew shook his head.

“What did Matthew think?” Hen asked.

“About what?”

“What did Matthew think about Michelle? Did he think she deserved to die as well?” Hen pulled her legs a little farther in toward her so that the balls of her feet were pressed against the ground.

“He knew what she was.”

“But I want to know what he thought. Can you tell me that, Richard? Can I talk to Matthew, just for a little bit?” She pressed her feet harder against the floor.

“No.”

“Why not? I don’t need to talk with him for long, but I want to talk with him. I have something to say to him.”

“What do you have to say to him?” Matthew asked.

“The last time I talked with him, when we were on my front porch, he told me that he wanted to stop all the killing. He told me that he was done, and I want to know if he really meant it. I want to know if he was telling me the truth.”

“He wasn’t.”

“But I want to hear it from him. I don’t want to hear it from you.”

“He’s not here,” Matthew said, and he pushed his chin down against his chest and swallowed heavily, as though he was trying to keep himself from being sick.