“Because…” I rub at my knees. There’s a stain on the knee on the right. Probably some food. Possibly blood. “Because like I said, their hands were cut off. The same thing the Handyman did to his victims.”
Brady cocks his head to the side. “I don’t understand.”
I could just leave it. I’ve kept this secret for twenty-six years. For twenty-six years, I’ve been Nora Davis, whose parents were killed tragically in a car accident. Mygrandmother wanted me to never tell a soul—she even moved with me to get away from the people who used to know who I was. But it’s like I’ve been living a lie. Like I’ve been an actress playing the lead role in my own life.
I look up at Brady. If anyone would be kind to me, it would be him. I’ve got to tellsomebody.
“Because,” I finally say. “Aaron Nierling is my father.”
I don’t know how I expected Brady to react, but I didn’t expect him to start laughing. He laughs for several seconds before he sees the look on my face and realizes that I am absolutely, one-hundred percent serious. I can actually see the laughter drain out of his body.
“You’re Aaron Nierling’s daughter,” he states.
“Yes.”
“And…” It’s almost adorable how confused he looks, if it wasn’t so awful. “So you changed your name after…?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“I guess…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “So those two girls with their hands cut off… They were both your patients. And the Handyman was... your dad?”
“Yes.”
“How come you never told me?”
I cough. “Are you serious? Do you think I wanted everyone to know about that?”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t just anyone. I was your boyfriend.”
“We were dating for three months, Brady. It’s not like we were married.”
He’s quiet for at least a minute, looking down at his hands. The only sound in the room is my heart thudding.
“Jesus,” he finally says.
“Yeah.”
“So…” He raises his eyes to look into mine. “Did you…?”
I inhale sharply. “Did I what?”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “Did you kill them? Those girls?”
And that is the moment when I realize that whatever I had with Brady Mitchell is over forever. I had hoped telling him would be the right thing to do, that it would be cathartic in some way. He liked me so much, I thought maybe he would be on my side. But I was wrong. I should never have said a word. Of course, it doesn’t matter if the story hits the news tomorrow, because he would’ve found out then. But at least I wouldn’t have had to experience him looking at me likethis.
I can’t even be angry about it. It’s no less than what I would have expected. But I had hoped…
“I didn’t kill anyone,” I say quietly. “I’m not like him.”
“But you’re asurgeon—you cut people up for a living.” God, it’s like he’s coming up with all the things that people are going to be saying about me tomorrow. All the reasons why I must be a psychotic killer, like my father. At least he has the good grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry.”
A muscle twitches in my jaw. “I think you should go.”
For once, I want him to argue with me and beg me to let him stay like he usually does. But instead, he nods. “I think so too.”
And that’s that. Brady gets up and he leaves my house—he’s barely able to look at me on the way out. And when he gets out the front door, he makes a beeline for his car. He doesn’t look back before he gets in and drives off.
Chapter 27
