Page 73 of He Sees You
Protected.
Loved in a way that transcends normal definition.
"What do we do with him?" I ask.
"I have ideas. But first, we need to stage this properly." Cain surveys the room with professional eyes. "He broke in. Attacked you. You defended yourself."
"With what? My bare hands?"
"With the knife he brought." Cain pulls out a second knife, a cheap one, the kind Jake would own. He presses it into Jake's dead hand, getting prints on it. "You struggled. He cut you."
Before I can protest, he makes a shallow cut on my arm.
It stings but not badly.
Then another on my shoulder, and one across my ribs—all defensive wounds, the kind you'd get fighting off an attacker.
"Then your boyfriend arrived. Found him assaulting you. Did what any man would do to protect the woman he loves." He looks at me. "Can you sell that story?"
"My father will know you did this. The violence, the mutilation?—"
"Your father will see what he needs to see. His deputy was the killer all along. Jake had access to everything, knew the victims, had the training. And now, trying to hurt you, he revealed himself."
"But the others—Roy, the women?—"
"Were all Jake's victims. He was smart, careful, until his obsession with you made him sloppy."
Cain starts arranging evidence, pulling items from his pockets that I don't even want to know where he got them.
A woman's earring.
A driver's license.
Trophies a killer would keep. "Your father will want to believe it. The town will want to believe it. Case closed, monster caught, everyone safe."
He's right.
It's a narrative that makes sense, ties everything up neatly.
Dad can be the hero who solved the case, even if his deputy was the killer.
The town can sleep peacefully.
And Cain and I...
"What about us?" I ask.
"We'll be the survivors. The couple who stopped a killer. Heroes, in our own way." He smiles, dark and beautiful. "And then, when enough time has passed, we'll disappear. Find somewhere new. Start fresh."
"And keep killing."
"Only those who deserve it." He cups my face in his blood-stained hands. "Only those who threaten what's ours."
Ours. Not mine, not his. Ours.
"I need to call my father," I say.
"In a moment. First, we need to make sure you look the part."
