The Bad Guy

“But this is wrong. What you’ve done won’t work.” He shook his head. “I want all those things. You two together. Grandchildren. Happiness. I want all of it for you. But this is not the way to get it. You can trap her and hold her all you want, but you’ll never have her until you set her free.”

“That’s not true.” I had everything under control. Timothy circled her, and she stopped. Before long, she’d climbed on the ATV with him, and they were both headed back to the house. I set the phone down, but kept peeking at the screen. “You’re wrong.”

“No.” He labored to get to his feet, and shuffled to the door. “I’m not. And that’s the saddest part of it all.” He didn’t look back as the door clicked closed behind him.

29

Camille

Dark veins flowed from the tip of my color pencil, the hue giving the appearance of black blood streaking through the leaf. I’d never gotten my hands on a sample of Tacca chantrieri, so I was thrilled to find it in the acquisitions Gerry had brought by earlier, once I’d returned from my last failed escape attempt. My subject sat in the middle of the wide wood table near the library windows, and I drew it as accurately as I could. The plant, often called the black bat flower, had a particular beauty that spoke to me. Inky leaves with ever darker veins were accompanied by a light green display of tendrils that appeared like whiskers on an old cat. I only hoped I could translate it onto paper.

A knock at the door drew my eye, and Timothy strode in with a box in his arms.

“What’s that?”

“A microscope, slides, mortar and pestle, tools, and a few other items to get you started. I’ve ordered the rest and will set up a small science area right inside the music room, unless you’d prefer it in the greenhouse or here.”

I stopped drawing. “If I said I wanted the moon, do you think he’d get it for me?”

“I daresay he’d try.”

I lifted my gaze to the chandelier. “Sebastian, hey.”

Silence.

“Hey, I’m about to take my top off. You have any thoughts on that?”

“Camille, please.” Timothy closed his eyes. “I don’t know if I can handle any more today.”

I rose and walked to him so I could help with the box. “I just wanted to see if he was listening.”

He didn’t give me the box, but carried it to the table where I was working.

“Can I ask you something?” I peered into his light blue eyes.

“If it’s about you leaving, I’d rather you didn’t.” He grimaced and took a step back.

“No.” I gestured toward the leather sofa and the comfortable chair I liked. “This isn’t about me escaping. I promise. Can we sit for a minute?”

“I probably shouldn’t.”

“Please?” I perched on the edge of the chair and hoped he’d follow my lead.

He gave a long look at the door.

“Just for a minute, I promise.” I clasped my hands together.

He sighed and moved to the couch where he sat gingerly and threw frequent glances to the chandelier. “What can I do for you?”

“When we spoke last, you said that Sebastian saved you. Could you tell me what you meant by that?” I was looking for any insight into my captor I could find, and Timothy seemed like a direct inroad.

“That’s not something I like to talk about.” He tangled his fingers together and avoided my gaze.

I rose and sat next to him. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I’m just trying to understand him.” I kicked my leg up, the golden anklet barely visible at the hem of my jeans. “I don’t want to be a prisoner forever. If there was some way I could…I don’t know, trust him, then maybe I could find some better ways to deal with him. Does that make sense?”

“It does.” He sighed and unbuttoned his fitted black jacket before leaning back against the cushion. “He’s not a good man. He’s not a bad man. There’s no direct way to explain a man like him. So much of what you see is the real him, undiluted, but then there are parts he hides away. I didn’t even realize he had that extra depth until you showed up. It was the first time since I met him that I actually saw him change.”

He’d left an opening, and I took it. “How did the two of you meet?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, as if uttering the answer aloud would hurt him.

“Will you tell me?”

He grew more tense by the second. “I don’t know if I can.”

I took his hand and squeezed it in mine. “Help me understand him, please. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to survive here. Besides, I think you owe it to me, Dr. Williams.”