“Right. I’m sure you were.”
“Look, it doesn’tchangeanything, does it?”
I yank my arm through my coat sleeve. “It doesn’t change anything. It just tells me what you think of me. So much for me being ‘the girl who got away,’ huh? Nice line, by the way. Very effective.”
His shoulders sag. “It wasn’t a line. I meant it.”
I turn to face Brady. He looks miserable. I’m sure he’s sorry he didn’t tell me about his daughter in the first place, but ultimately, it doesn’t matter. He was right not to tell me. If I knew it before the first time we were together, I never would have slept with him in the first place. I don’t need that kind of complication.
“Goodbye, Brady,” I say.
“Let me walk you to your car.”
“No.”
For a moment, the sadness on his face is replaced by a flash of anger. “Look, I was planning to tell you about Ruby—this isn’tthatbig a deal. I feel like you’re just using this as an excuse to leave. Again.”
“That’s not true.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”
I shake my head. He doesn’t get it. There’s a reason he never told me about his daughter. It’s the same reason he liked dating me so much. It’s because I scare him. I gave him the same thrill he got from watching the slasher films back in college. He doesn’t even know about my father, but he knows there’s something about me. He senses it.
He’s afraid of me. Just a little bit. And that’s why he didn’t want me to know he had a child.
“Goodbye, Brady,” I say.
And when I walk out, he doesn’t follow me.
When I get outside, the cool night air clears my head. I didn’t realize how stifled I felt in that tiny apartment until I left. I look back at the house, and Brady’s landlady is out on the porch. Rocking back-and-forth slowly. Watching me.
I hug my arms to my chest. I’m glad I’m never coming back here.
Chapter 23
By the next morning, the story of the two murders is all over the news.
Everybody is talking about the fact that there’s a new serial killer in the Bay Area. And of course, people are reminiscing about the Handyman because of the obvious similarities. The news notes that the Handyman has been in prison for twenty-six years, and will continue to be imprisoned until the day he dies. Whoever killed these women is a copycat.
Thank God, I have surgery to keep me busy all morning. I lose myself in operating, and for about five hours, I don’t think about Amber Swanson, Shelby Gillis, and especially Brady Mitchell.
But then on the drive to the office for my afternoon patients, the murder is on every radio station. Everybody is fascinated by it, the same way they were fascinated by the Handyman. I finally have to turn off the radio and drive in silence.
When I get to the office, I’ve miraculously made it withten minutes to spare until the afternoon clinic begins. Harper and Philip are sitting together at her desk, their heads close together as they both munch on sub sandwiches. I don’t even have the energy to fret over Philip hitting on Harper anymore, but I do clear my throat very loudly.
“Hey, Nora,” Philip says, as if he’s done absolutely nothing wrong. “We got an extra sandwich for you if you want it. Italian sub.”
“No, thanks,” I mutter. I scarfed down a cheeseburger from the food cart, and it feels like a ton of rocks in my stomach.
Harper lifts her blue eyes. “Dr. Davis, your two patients are all over the news! Did you know that?”
“And they didn’t even mention our practice,” Philip grumbles. “That would’ve beengreatadvertising.”
Harper rolls her eyes at him, but it’s in an affectionate way. I can’t deal with this right now.
“You know Harper never even heard of the Handyman,” Philip says.
She laughs. “I wasn’t born yet!”
