His entire body wracked with violent belief of his admission. “But do you know what I hate the most? I hate that others are paying for my mistakes. She is paying for my mistakes. And I can’t stop it. I can’t fucking do a goddamn thing about it, and it’s killing me knowing I’ve let her down, let so many people down. Fuck!”
I didn’t speak, waiting for Gil to continue purging, willing him to speak and hopefully remove the festering guilt inside him.
But he didn’t continue.
He didn’t breathe or twitch or gather me closer.
It was as if he’d been possessed by honesty, granted a small window in which to talk, before the alcohol ripped away his coherency and shoved him face first into unconsciousness.
“Gil...” I rubbed his arm around my stomach. “Gil, talk to me.”
He couldn’t go to sleep. Not now. Not after so many confusing, terrible confessions.
Confessions that made no sense and only layered me with a deep-seated terror.
Who was ‘she’? Was he in love with someone else? Was that why he felt guilty with me in his bed when all along he loved another? Who were paying for his mistakes? What mistakes?
“Gil.” I pinched him.
But it was no use.
He was awake but no longer willing to narrate his secrets.
His arms banded tight and possessive. His legs hooked through mine. Our bodies plastered together, head to toe. “Go to sleep, Olin Moss. Go to sleep and forget everything I said. Forget about me. Forget you ever knew a man who would willingly put you in the face of danger all because he was too weak to say no.”
“What danger have you put me in?”
He sighed. And in that sigh, too many things existed.
Too much pain.
Too much history.
Too much unknown.
“I can’t answer that.”
“Is it about the murdered girls? Are you involved...after all?”
He flinched behind me. “Shush. Go to sleep.”
“Gil...”
“Hush.” He clung to me and allowed alcohol to dull his senses.
He might have the cushion of liquor to aid his tattered heartbeats, but I didn’t.
And instead of sleep, we stayed bound and entwined just as dawn arrived.
Both very aware something had happened in the dark.
That we’d broken any hope of a future.
That everything had happened too late.
Chapter Thirty-Four
______________________________
Olin
-The Present-
DEATH.
Another murder.
Another girl’s body painted and left in broad daylight, her camouflaged skin turning her invisible to those who sought to save her.
I stood in Gil’s living room, dressed in a fresh skirt and copper blouse, ready to go to work so I didn’t lose my job.
Gil had fallen asleep an hour or so ago.
I hadn’t.
My thoughts had kept me far too busy—the exact opposite of counting sheep. I’d been running in my mind, and utter exhaustion made my limbs heavy as I struggled out of Gil’s entrapment and slipped from his bed.
He’d stayed unconscious and in the enviable slumber of vodka while I’d flittered around dressing and making myself presentable.
I hadn’t consciously decided what tomorrow would bring. I’d allowed the sunshine to warm his warehouse, content to stay in Gil’s cage until he could shed light on the shadows he’d brought into my world.
But the longer he’d slept behind me, the more my fear couldn’t be ignored. He’d tried to tell me something last night. He’d tried to be honest yet couldn’t reveal the full story.
Was it because he himself didn’t know? Or because he had a bigger role to play than I’d imagined?
Moving to his kitchen, I stole a cup of coffee, doing my best to chase away the dregs of fatigue. While sipping on bitter caffeine, I tried to unravel the knots Gil had given me, but the coffee wasn’t strong enough and I didn’t have enough of the pieces.
Whatever he’d told me last night was worthless unless he painted a bigger picture.
And that was why I’d decided to go to work.
I knew he wouldn’t want me to. To be honest, I didn’t want to go either. Being chased yesterday and having someone in my apartment had made me listen to Gil’s warnings.
But I also couldn’t afford to lose my job.
I had my own life to tend to, even if he was intent on destroying his.
Heading into the bathroom with my toothbrush from my overnight bag, I layered it with minty paste and began brushing. While doing the routine task, I swiped on my phone, ready to summon an Uber.
My toothbrush promptly landed in the sink in a splash of green paste.
I clutched my phone, shaking my head as I skimmed the news app that I’d downloaded a few days ago.
I’d wanted to keep track of the murdered girls. Now, I wished I’d kept my head in the sand. Articles and ‘breaking news’ bulletins littered my screen with alerts.
Another girl had been taken.
Another life stolen.
She’d been found in the undergrowth at Moseley Bog Nature Reserve. A small wilderness where families and walkers could explore wooden pathways and soak up the serenity of trees.
I’d walked there myself. I’d found it tranquil and picturesque.
Now, it was a cemetery where an innocent woman had died.
Nausea swiftly gathered. My heart relocated into my mouth as I read:
Another victim was found this morning thanks to a mother and son taking a stroll like they do every morning in their local park. Unlike the recent painted murders, where cleverly camouflaged girls were gagged and bound, rendered silent and trapped while they died of exposure and dehydration, this new victim was bled out at a different location while her painted corpse was hidden next to the bog with rushes and bluebells.
I swayed.
Gil had been out till late.
He’d been afraid of what tomorrow would bring.
He’d been muddy and tormented and turned to a bottle for salvation.
Salvation from what?
From murder?
From painting a cadaver?
From being a part of something I’d hoped and prayed he could never do?
My legs gave out, slamming me against the sink as my skin grew clammy with terror.
It couldn’t be.
Gil had been with the police for most of the day.
He wouldn’t have had the time to capture, paint, and kill.
And yet...
He didn’t come home for hours.
He acted as if his life was almost over.
He behaved like someone who’d given in to the worst kind of master.
My sickness swelled and crested, demanding fresh air and answers.
I opened another article, desperate for some hint that no matter the evidence, it couldn’t have been Gil. I wanted the killer to have been apprehended and in custody.
I want all of this to be over.
With icy sweat running down my spine, I found further condemnation.
The police are still calling for help from anyone who might’ve seen someone suspicious last night between the hours of ten p.m. and six a.m. They are following enquires but so far have no leads. However, at least this time, a clue has been left behind. A boot print was found by the body. Size eleven Timberland with all-terrain tread. Please call your local law enforcement if you find footwear relating to this crime.