Author: Dale Wiley
Category: Thriller
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/dale-wiley/page,13,457982-southern_gothic.html
He sensed Michael was involved in a much deeper way; he had shared her bed the way he had Quinn’s. He noticed a scar on her right arm, right above the wrist, and wondered if Michael had put it there. As he got closer to her, he felt his throat go dry. He wanted to go to her. At times like this, Broderick realized he played a game that could never have a winner, never satisfy what had been burned out of him. He wanted to pull this woman aside and interrogate her. But it would serve no purpose, so he would simply buy a book. He couldn’t stomach the thought of having her sign it. He didn’t want to like her. She belonged to Michael. He paid for his book, and before he got his change, he hit the door and disappeared into the winter sunlight.
Chapter 37
Michael woke up some time after one. He looked around and noticed the boxes strewn around; he realized Meredith had found him out. It disappointed him he hadn’t been coherent for the confrontation. That would have been half the fun. He noticed a note resting on top of one of the boxes, scrawled in Meredith’s loopy handwriting.
Be gone when I get home.
He had hoped for more vitriol, something mean and nasty he could think about late at night, but this woman was a jewel, and no matter what else transpired, she would never be able to stop loving him—or at least his writing. He counted on it—and the fact he could now prove she had duped the entire American public.
Early on, Michael had seen the relationship as a panacea, something that could do away with all of his flaws as if Meredith’s magic would make him normal again. When it didn’t happen, he blamed her.
She lived a happy, naïve existence. She had so many questions about the corners of his universe—the characters he created, the stories he forgot, the minutiae of a well-chronicled life of writing. She wanted to know him and be with him. She didn’t believe the other Michael existed, or she chose to look the other way when confronted with any evidence. Problem was this was the real Michael—the one Meredith had no chance of changing.
He knew this day would come. He hadn’t specifically intended it to be today, but he loved that she would hate him all the more for it. His plan had been to hide out until 5 or 6 p.m. and then pretend like he had just come back into town, take her out for a celebratory dinner, and end the night in her bed. He had been away from her for two weeks, spending the last six nights in his lair. He needed a nice long bath and some time between her legs. But last night, he wound up at a bar downtown, drinking absinthe and thinking despicable thoughts—thoughts of putting nails through her hands, branding her ... He didn’t like when those thoughts came, so he kept drinking. When he fell into his space around 4 a.m., he slept in a different corner of the universe, one without any communication with the surface world.
Early on, Michael made keys to everything. Of course, Meredith had no idea. He thought she would likely change the locks now. Most people would under similar circumstances. He didn’t want to make it look as if he had free access to her house, so he shoved his simple note in the frame of the back door.
email: [email protected]
password: southernbelle72
He put the rest of his impromptu home on his back and headed out.
Michael turned and tried to memorize the house. He would be back, but he had no idea how long it would be. He blew a kiss at Meredith’s bedroom window. Goodbye, he mouthed. I’ll see you again. Then he walked west and didn’t look back.
Chapter 38
Broderick left the book signing and had plans of heading home to Atlanta. It would take a little over three hours, and he could make it back in time to watch the Sunday night NFL game. But first he had a stop to make.
He made the short drive to her house and parked half a block away.
Broderick rang the front bell and, after a few seconds, tried the handle. As he expected, no one was home. He walked around the back door and peered through the window.
Broderick scolded himself. What was he doing snooping in her backyard? He wasn’t a detective. As he turned to leave, a folded paper, stuck in the frame of the backdoor, caught his attention. It was probably nothing, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick look.
When he saw the password, his heart caught in his throat. He had been through his daughter’s papers enough to recognize the handwriting anywhere. He took a picture of the note with his phone and did his best to replace it exactly as it was left. He had to stop himself from dancing all the way back to the car. He had the first actual lead on Michael Black in years.
Chapter 39
At the store, the line to sign books never ended, and Meredith’s hand began to cramp. People milled about, drinking and talking. But she couldn’t take her mind off Michael.
She noticed Jennifer motioning to her. Meredith apologized to a store regular and finally broke away to speak to one of her best and oldest friends.
Jennifer grabbed her by the hand and took her just outside the store and into the late-afternoon sunlight.
Meredith wondered if something was wrong. Had she found out? All of a sudden, the afternoon’s glimmer faded away.
“I read my copy last night.” Jennifer had a mix of buoyance and excitement in her voice. “I just love it. It reminds me of all the books we used to read together.” There were tears welling in her eyes. “I’m just so happy you stayed with it. I didn’t know if you would after the bookstore and all. You’ve added your name to that list we all would like to join, and I’m so proud of you.”
Meredith hugged her friend. Jennifer was right—Meredith was finally doing what she always wanted to do. She had turned her dreams into reality. She did her best to push down the nagging feeling of guilt.
As the afternoon wound down, her thoughts shifted back to Michael—the mildewed smell of his nest, the dirt and dust he chose to sleep in, the stink of alcohol on his breath. It was not an impromptu landing spot, but somewhere he spent time. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She felt equal parts of revulsion and fear.
The terror of the phone calls, the harsh words he sometimes left at her feet, the moments when all the praise in the world couldn’t distract him from a dark mood—she couldn’t ignore the other side of him anymore. She shuddered as she thought of the nights they had spent together and the way she had felt safe in his arms. Which man was he? She wanted to wretch. She turned around and scanned the room for Nate.
Luckily, she caught sight of him speaking with the mayor of Savannah, a regular customer at the store, and Scott Pettit, one of the Savannah’s finest criminal lawyers and Meredith’s longtime friend.
Meredith tugged at Nate’s elbow. “Can you follow me home?” she asked, hoping she came across sober enough so it wouldn’t sound like a come-on.
If Nate thought that, it didn’t show. “What’s wrong?” Concern filled his eyes. Too much concern.
She briefly regretted asking him. “I’m sure it’s fine, but I heard some things last night, and I just wouldn’t mind if you would help me get in okay.” She wasn’t scared, but the whole thing made her want to burst into tears.
“No problem,” he said.
Since her impromptu courting lesson, Nate had seemed to move on from his crush and had been out with a few women. She hadn’t met them yet, but sometimes he would ask advice, and Meredith happily dished it. She hoped she was not putting him back on her trail.
Meredith pulled around to the carriage house and got out of the car gingerly. She could see Michael hadn’t cleaned up the mess, so she made sure to direct Nate away from it. She looked carefully around the boxes to make sure he wasn’t hiding.
“What did you hear? Something like the last time?” Nate asked.
She shook her head. “It was probably nothing. If you’ll just get me inside, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Nate took the lead around the back and noticed the paper before she did. He grabbed it and started to open it when Meredith realized what it likely was.
She pushed up next to Nate, her breasts brushing against him. “I’ll take that. Thanks, Nate.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I asked my neighbor to check too, so I think it’s just his report.” She quickly slipped it into her pocket. “Do you hear anything?” she asked.
Neither of them said anything. A big gust of sea air made the branches creak and sway overhead.
Nate shook his head. “I don’t.”
She knew he spooked easily and wanted to get out of there. Frankly, she did too. “Thanks, Nate.” She kissed him on the cheek. She hoped it would keep him off-guard all the way home.
She smiled as she saw from his look, it had done just that.
Chapter 40
The brilliance and happiness of the afternoon starkly contrasted with the evening’s darkness. She checked to see if anything looked out of place and then went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of her favorite, La Crema Pinot. The burn in the back of her throat calmed her and gave her the courage she needed. She pulled the note back out of her pocket. The password he gave her, southernbelle72, was a combination of his pet name for her and the year of her birth. He continued his toying with her, even now.
Meredith was not only suffering from the shock of finding Michael in an unconscious mess on her garage floor, but from a broken heart as well. She had spent the last year convinced Michael would come out of the shadows, restore his name, and be her husband. How stupid could she be? He was comfortable where he was—in those shadows, in those hiding places. He liked that life. What did it say about her that she couldn’t see him for what he was?
Meredith moved around the house carefully, expecting him to walk in and pretend like today never happened. She could feel him there. She felt disgusted and used. Yet she still wanted to see him.
Her phone lit up with several emails from Allen, who had solidified what looked to be a marvelous week ahead. She would be doing a cooking show with Bobby Flay and a sit-down interview with Bob Edwards. Now that she was experienced in thinking of herself in the role of author, the job got easier and easier. They were putting her up at The Plaza—another bucket list item checked off.
For the most part, the trappings of her newfound fame were marvelous. But she still had moments, usually late at night, when a sinking feeling consumed her. She had taken credit for a book she didn’t write.
An hour later, finally convinced he had left, she sat in her bathtub and cried.
Chapter 41
The email came four days later. Meredith stared at it for a full minute before finally opening.
Hi.
That was all [email protected] had sent.
Meredith sat in her hotel room at The Plaza in New York. It was unreal. She had almost managed to push the events of the past week to the side and just enjoy this energy high doing signings at bookstores and talking to news shows. Between the day’s two events, she climbed into a limo and decided she needed to respond. She shook so badly she could barely compose anything.
“You okay, ma’am?” The driver furrowed his brow in concern.
“Too much coffee. I’ll be fine.”
She pulled herself together and typed out her response.
Dear “Master,”
I was surprised to find your unusual sleeping arrangement. It stings a little to know sleeping in a cardboard box is preferable to sharing my bed.
I think you need to find another pupil. Let’s both keep our secrets and leave it at that. There are things both of us need concealed.
Pupil
It surprised her how much it bothered her to send the email, how much it hurt to cut the cord, to say goodbye to the warmth of his body and the heights of their passion. She couldn’t tell anyone how it tore at a part of her to let him go. A part of her loved the drama and the roller coaster ride. But she couldn’t sacrifice anything else. She was sure of it.
Meredith needed Michael as much as Michael needed her. But she also couldn’t spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder and worrying about where he slept at night. He needed to stay hidden to keep his freedom and to ensure the success of her career.
As soon as the whoosh of the sent email hit her ears, she regretted it. If he took it the wrong way, she could be closer to, not further from, mutually assured destruction. She didn’t know this man, or maybe she hoped she didn’t. Maybe this was all passing madness. She longed for that. She hoped she hadn’t just made things much worse.
Now she would simply have to wait.
Chapter 42
She spent her last day in New York worrying. Was he going to respond red-hot with anger or have an icy calm? But it was worse—she heard nothing at all. She had an important meeting with The New Yorker about a piece they were going to do, and she saw the frown on the writer’s face when she anxiously checked her phone every few minutes.
She took the train to Boston the next morning and went into the same routine. At one point, a good-looking man bumped against her, and she nearly screamed. She needed to see a doctor, but she knew she wouldn’t—or couldn’t.
The publisher put Meredith up in a suite befitting royalty at the Mandarin Oriental in Boston. The gray street view turned into magic when she entered the vast lobby. She tried to soak in every second of her momentary royal status, appreciating the sculptures and modern lines of the hotel. The last book signing had been packed, and several people said nice things about what she had written online about Michael. She welcomed hearing nice things for a change. She had worried about everything that had been said and wondered if rumors held some truth. Oddly, having someone else stick up for him felt like a huge burden had been lifted.
Red Ribbon debuted at number three on the New York Times bestseller list. Number three. She couldn’t believe it. She stared at the listing, just below John Grisham. She thought about calling Terrie or Jennifer to ooh and ah, but she had been too consumed with worry over the unanswered email and feared they would pick up the edge in her voice.
She went to a nice dinner with her Boston press contact and devoured the oysters and crab legs. The woman loved the book and predicted great things. Meredith wished she could focus on the praise, but her mind had left the conversation. They walked back by Faneuil Hall, and in the noisy darkness of the city, she said her goodbyes and found herself alone with her thoughts. She lingered in the lobby for a moment, postponing the dread of looking at her email yet again, but finally decided to head to her room. She climbed under the covers and stared at the glittering skyline outside her window.
Then, just hours after the greatest news of her life, he emailed her.
She held her breath as she read.
Dear Pupil:
Should I even call you that? You read my books all those years and never learned to write. Maybe I should have chosen “Straw Man” as an email address instead. Seems more appropriate. Lucky Straw Man.
We need to get a couple things straight in this relationship—WHO GIVES THE THREATS and WHO SITS AROUND COWERING IN FUCKING TERROR WHEN THEY GET THEM. I am Rumpelstiltskin, and you are the pretty princess who hopes I spin gold for her at night. You better remember because there is plenty of peasant work in the kingdom. You like the Mandarin, eh? I have friends every single place you go. They don’t give a shit about my past, and they WILL give me your itinerary and room number (1425) when I ask them to. Since I pay them more than their annual salary, they’re happy to oblige.
I can write anything here because YOU won’t do anything about it. You can’t go to the police and tell them your blood stalker told you he knows about the black vibrator you keep in the Steve Madden box third from the left in your closet. Or that he smiled and licked it when he found it. Or how he found his way into your duct work and looked down over you while you were sleeping.
Your blood stalker is trying to cool his anger and not punish you for the way you are behaving. Your blood stalker will sleep in your garage if he chooses.
All those things are now on the table. You have a beautiful life. I won’t even object if you take a lover. It might turn me on. But you WILL know I am in char
ge, and you are very lucky to be where you are.
Your devoted friend,
Master
Chapter 43
The email knocked the wind out of her.
She read and re-read it. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t stop. She felt like she had read one book only to find at the end it had transformed into something entirely different. He could be making up the stuff about the air ducts—she remembered that from one of Patterson’s early books—but he got her vibrator’s hiding place right. She couldn’t imagine the shame of turning back at this point. The sullen stares of the customers, the unmet eyes of her friends. No, she had made her Kafka nightmare. Now she had to watch herself become the roach.
Meredith hoped his desire to stay hidden—and keep the truth that way too—was as strong in him as it was in her. Maybe mutually assured destruction could work here as well. If he did her in, she would sure as hell take him down too.
Sleep crept in, with strange, oppressive dreams. Michael at the foot of her bed. Michael walking with her down a long hall. Michael’s face hovering over hers as she slept, his breath rancid on her cheeks. When she woke, she saw a stream of light from the window and felt more tired than ever.
She dragged herself into the bathroom to turn on the shower. On the mirror, someone had written a message in a woman’s flowery handwriting using her own lipstick, a blood red shade.
I didn’t write Red Ribbon. - M.H.
Chapter 44
Meredith grabbed a towel and tried to wipe away the message. Instead, she just smeared the lipstick across the surface. She stopped to look at herself through the mirror’s red haze.