He Will be My Ruin

Finally, they’re at the front door again.

“It was nice meeting you,” Jemma offers, eying me cautiously. She doesn’t know what to think of me, I’m sure.

“Thanks for letting us in, Maggie.” Grady ducks out behind her without giving me another glance, shutting the door behind him.

“And I thought senior citizens were the dangerous ones,” Ruby murmurs with a wry smile, taking a seat with her cup. “I’d say that between the expressions on the two of you, Grady knows all he needs to know now.”

“Did you know he was coming?” Doug barks.

“I forgot!” I snap back, but then lower my voice, warning him, “These walls are thin.”

Doug’s narrow gaze darts from the door to the evidence kit to the tin. “He looked worried. He knows that we’re investigating him now, and he’s worried about what we might find.”

“And did you see that girl? Did you see how he was acting around her? All smiley and touchy-feely.” I begin pacing circles around Ruby now. “He’s going to crawl through that window for her, the same way he did with Celine. And then God knows what’s going to happen. I had to warn her.”

“Warn her?”

“Yeah. I told her that the previous tenant killed herself.”

Doug heaves a sigh. “Okay. That’s fine.”

“It was quite uncomfortable, actually,” Ruby surmises. “I’ve never seen Maggie so emotional before.”

“Emotional.” I watch Doug’s analyzing gaze study the window for a long moment, and then my unmade bed, the sheets rumpled in a heap. “So when exactly did you and Grady start . . .” His brows jump. “You know.”

My cheeks burn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t forget that I have a forensics kit over there that will tell me anything I need to know,” he warns.

Dammit. Knowing him, he’ll make me stand here and watch him run that UV light over sheets I haven’t washed since Grady was over. How mortifying would that be?

From the corner of my eye, I catch the grin that stretches Ruby’s many wrinkles. It’s like she’s forgotten why we’re investigating Grady in the first place. That, or maybe it’s just a thickening plot that excites her.

Still, I’m not paying Doug to investigate me. “Can we please just focus on the important stuff here?” Sadness and anger and disappointment erupt inside me. “Like, who the hell is Grady, what exactly happened between him and Celine, and is he the one who stole that vase?”

And could he have killed her?

————

A soft knock against my window sounds, echoing through the almost empty apartment. It doesn’t wake me. I haven’t been able to fall asleep, instead staring at the cracks in the plaster ceiling above me.

He came to my door an hour ago and knocked, but I didn’t answer then, either.

Though I know I could just confront Grady again, that’s probably not the smartest thing to do. The fact that he’s already lied to my face once makes possibly antagonizing him now a supremely stupid thing to do.

It could be nothing.

It could be everything.

I hope it’s nothing.

I need to know more about James Grady and I need to know right away.

A second soft knock sounds, followed by a “Maggie? I need to talk to you.”

I lie still, staring at the thirteen oversized garbage bags that consume every square inch of bedroom floor space, like giant black marshmallows. More fill the living room. Five bags’ worth went straight to the Dumpster—all the things I can’t donate. Others, I need to store and save for any possible future investigation.

I could let him in, let him tell me what he wants to tell me. But I know myself. I won’t believe him. And what if it’s not simply a conversation he has in mind?

What if he wants to hurt me?

Maybe like he hurt Celine?

Would he be stupid enough to do that, with Doug on my payroll?

Doug’s warning stays my voice and my body. Never underestimate anyone.

“Whatever you think I did . . . you’re wrong,” he says.

I’ve never really been good at listening to myself.

Scrambling out of bed, I pull the curtain open. He’s standing on the landing again, in a T-shirt and jeans, shivering. Just as he was before.

Only this time I have no urge to slide open the window.

This time, I have no reason to invite him in.

My chest aches. Whatever we had vanished so quickly.

“And what exactly is it I think you did that I’m so wrong about?” I snap, folding my arms over my chest, both to ward off the draft and his gaze.

His jaw tenses. “Can you just let me in so we can talk about this?”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “So you can hurt me, too? Maybe make it look like an accident this time, instead of suicide? Not a chance in hell.”

He frowns. “Maggie, I would never—”

“I’m not going to believe anything you have to say. You looked into my eyes and you lied.” I lean in to the glass, to get a close look at his face as I say, “I know you were one of Celine’s clients. I know you were paying her for sex, and you were coming in through this window, just like you did with me the other night.”

His Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow.

But he doesn’t deny it.

My eyes begin to burn. I can’t believe I’m about to cry in front of this asshole. I’m not going to cry in front of this asshole. “I’m sure that’s not the end of it, either. I’m sure I’m going to discover all kinds of other disgusting things about you. Stay the hell away from me.” I pull the curtain closed before the first tear slips, burning hot against my cool skin.

I hear the subtle creaks of the fire escape as James Grady climbs back up without another word.

CHAPTER 37

Maggie

December 15, 2015

“More my style,” Zac notes, eying the track pants and sweatshirt I threw on this morning before the donation truck came to collect Celine’s things. Aside from the antiques, the couch, and potential evidence going into storage, and a box of Celine’s personal items—her old diaries, the lockbox, pictures that I want to keep—the apartment is ready to be rented.

“Did you find anything good on Grady?” I was in a cab and on my way to Zac’s within two minutes of getting a call from Doug.