Pretty Little Wife(90)

The tone, so deep and flat. Lila felt her stomach fall. “What?”

“I told Aaron to destroy them. Hell, I told him to stop going after his students and just play with the women I found, but he refused to listen.” He pocketed the bracelet and spun the hammer’s handle around in his hand, looking as if he were born to wield it. “It’s like how he was when he first saw you. He was obsessed, and I told him to back off, but no. Then when he found out about your background, he knew you were perfect for him.”

The perfect cover for the secret life he led.

She tried to think of the right words, to stall until her brain could catch up and she could figure out what to do. “What are you doing here? Why follow me?”

He frowned at her. “We’ve been playing this game. The notes. The fights. Arguing about Aaron.” He scoffed. “Hell, I almost came right out with it a few times. When I found you in my office? I thought you were trying to tell me you’d figured it out, but then I realized you felt guilty for being caught looking around.”

“I thought Aaron might have hid something in your house.”

“He did. I kept copies of the videos with the girls and some of the other evidence he collected to keep them in line. It was in the safe under my desk. Note my use of past tense.” Jared winked at her.

So many questions bounced around in her head. She grabbed on to the one thought she could articulate. “You wrote the notes to me.”

“Of course,” he shot back. “I couldn’t just let you kill Aaron and not pay a price.” He shrugged. “I thought for sure you’d guess. The notes were my way of getting even and letting you know who was in charge.” He tapped the hammer harder against the side of his leg. “Me. I’m in charge.”

He could get close to her house without anyone questioning it. He came in and out of her life, her office, and her home. He was always just . . . there. Dependable and strong. No-nonsense and undemanding.

He’d stalked her. Scared her. The smile on his face said he’d enjoyed all of it.

Her mind fought back, determined not to let reality set in. She shifted, keeping him in front of her as she circled, putting her back to the kitchen area. A sturdy wall and no way to be surprised from behind. “Tell me what’s going on, Jared.”

But she knew. Every word, the feral look on his face. He’d come home to his killing ground.

Only one thing stood in his way—her.

“Aaron arrived at my house that night after your big fight, furious and mumbling. You’d been digging around in his stuff. You’d found him out.” He sat on the arm of the couch, looking relaxed and acting as if they were talking about normal things on any other day. “He was sure you’d talk to the police and he wanted you dead. That night.”

“Sounds like Aaron.”

“I said no, of course. People always blame the husband, and I couldn’t have that kind of spotlight so close to me before I had a chance to prepare.”

“Of course,” she repeated the thrown-away comment as she glanced around the room, looking for something that could fend off that hammer.

“He liked the chase. Always did. Never enjoyed the kill.” Jared laughed. “Which really pissed Dad off. All that training and Aaron was a lost cause. He fucked. I killed.”

She froze. “I don’t understand.”

He sighed like he was disappointed in her. “You do.”

God, she did. A family enterprise. Aaron had been blamed for the killings, but that honor belonged to Jared, and to his dad before him. Aaron’s sin was not forgivable but was also not murder.

“Explain it to me.” Still stalling. Still thinking of a way out.

“I’ll give you a hint.” He put his foot on the rocker part of the rocking chair. “This one is mine. The one in your house belongs to Aaron.”

Identical chairs.

He tapped the rocker and set it in motion. “They were on the porch growing up. He’d sit there and look over his property. Watch the games begin.”

Games?

“When Dad died, we each took one. I brought mine here so I could sit outside and enjoy a nice evening. Get a little air.”

He sounded so logical and calm, just as he always did. She’d expected that someone who lived this secret life would be unspooled, deranged. Talking in undecipherable rants. Nothing prepared her for how normal he looked. She had na?vely believed she’d be able to pick horror out of the crowd and stay away. But the opposite was true. He’d blended in and made her believe.

“See, Dad liked to hunt. Animals were for eating. They served a purpose. The other hunts, the ones with women, those were for fun. He took us along from the time I was eight or so to this farm in Pennsylvania.”

The thought of the boys being dragged along . . . “Eight?”

“I still remember it. Fischer’s Farm. It sat near a lake, and the school sometimes rented it out for events.” He let out a harsh laugh. “At first I didn’t understand what was happening. All these men and this naked woman. Then they would give her a head start and go. They’d sit and wait before scrambling after her. Then the game would begin.”

The dizziness hit her, and she fought through it. She had to stay on her feet and focus. “You can’t be serious.”

“Those guys were really sick. The things they’d do once they caught the women?” He shook his head. “Shit, that was too much for me. I liked the hunt, but at the end of every hunt you do the humane thing.”