Creep - Jennifer Hillier [113]
He stopped pacing. Sheila had no idea if he’d heard her.
His jaw worked. “When I graduated, I thought . . . I thought we could have made something of it.”
“We still can. It’s not too late.”
He started pacing again. “No, you picked Morris. Morris with the big-ass Cadillac and big-ass house and big-ass bank job and big-ass bank account.”
How did he know all that? It certainly hadn’t come from her. Ethan’s obsession with Morris was scaring the shit out of her. Every conversation seemed to lead right back to him.
“Do you still love him?” Ethan asked.
Sheila couldn’t think of an answer fast enough and his face transformed into something ugly.
“You do. Your hesitation says it all.”
“God, Ethan, I’m not a robot!” She got up off the bed and approached him. “I don’t have switches I can turn on and off. Ending it with you was agonizing. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. But I thought Morris was the sensible choice. Think about it logically, from my perspective. I’m telling you the truth.” She reached her hand out.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t have your old life back,” Ethan said, ignoring her hand and taking a small step back. “Nobody misses you. Nobody gives a fuck that you’re gone. They already replaced you at the university. Got some hotshot professor they snagged from the University of Washington to fill your big shoes. Oh, what was her name again . . . ?” He snapped his fingers several times in succession, like a jazz musician feeling the beat. “Linda something or other. Brennan. Brandon.”
“Branson,” Sheila said, deflated. “Linda Branson.” She had no idea if what Ethan was saying was true, but it was definitely plausible. Dr. Linda Branson was indeed a hotshot professor who’d left the University of Washington to write a bestselling book on childhood phobias. Of course PSSU would have snapped her up, especially now that Sheila was out of the picture. What timing.
“And Morris.” A small smile was on Ethan’s lips. “I can guarantee Morris the fat fuck isn’t looking for you, either. He’s so over you. You never should have told him about your sex addiction. I’ll bet he was glad as hell when you canceled the wedding, so he didn’t have to do it. He probably thinks he dodged a bullet.”
“Well, that’s where I’ll have to disagree,” Sheila said, despite her fear. “You don’t know Morris. He’s very loyal. Maybe he hasn’t yet, but he will start looking for me. He’ll want answers, and when he starts digging, he’ll figure out that something bad happened. He won’t let it go until he finds me. And he’s a juggernaut when he gets going.” She felt her chin jut out defiantly. “You won’t be able to stop him.”
Another nerve hit. Ethan stopped pacing and turned to her, his gray eyes completely devoid of the flecks of light that made people look human. The hairs on Sheila’s neck stood up and she cursed herself for opening her big mouth. Oh, God. What was he going to do now? Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“Morris is dead,” Ethan said calmly. “I already killed him.”
“No.” Her heart started hammering so hard she couldn’t breathe. “You’re lying.”
“Why do you think I’m so sure he’s not looking for you?” Ethan’s lips curled up in a sneer. “I made it look like an accident. He started drinking again when you left him, no surprise there. So I fucked a little with the brake pads on his big, shiny Cadillac. Five nights ago when it was raining really hard, he veered off the freeway and wrapped himself around a utility pole. Died instantly. When they pulled him out, they could smell the whiskey on him. There was an open bottle of Johnnie Walker on the passenger seat floor.” Ethan smiled, pleased with himself. “The good stuff—Red label, I think. Or was it Black? I can’t remember.”
“You’re lying,” Sheila said again, feeling dizzy.