Page 31 of The Silent Night Stalker
“Just don’t beat me,” he says again, more firmly this time, as if we’ve come to some sort of agreement.
“I only beat you because you were trying to kill me.”
“Yeah, I know… Will you please touch me again?”
I sigh because I feel like I’m taking advantage of his innocence. “Go home, Little Bird.”
As much as I want to see how far I can push his hot buttons, I’m too tired, so I turn around and walk toward my door, desperately needing to soak in a tub full of steaming water and Epsom salts.
“I have a gift for you,” he blurted.
That stops me, and I turn around to face him. “Oh?”
He rushes toward me and hands me a stack of envelopes and a small black box. “What’s this?”
“They belong to Enrique.”
My aching body tenses, and my face burns with anger. I’m suddenly seething. “What the actual fuck? How did you fucking get these? Where did you get them? Answer me real fast, or I’m taking back the ‘not-hitting’ thing.”
Instead of showing fear, his face holds confidence, and his chin tilts upward defiantly. The only sign that heisafraid is his trembling bottom lip. “They were in his home, hidden.”
I shook my head, my rage growing by the minute. “No way! They thoroughly searched his home. You’re lying. Are these even his? Are you fucking messing with me right now?” I stand close to him, towering over him in intimidation, but he holds out his hands and takes a step back.
“No! Stop! Your people didn’t know what to look for. I do. I wanted to find his killer as my gift to you. But I don’t know enough to figure it out in those letters, but I bet you do. I want you. I know this will help you find his killer, and then you’ll want me back. I just know it.”
“Prove it. Describe Enrique’s house and tell me where you found them.”
Constantine nods quickly, relaxing a bit. “Yes, you can go there and see for yourself. He has this leather sofa in the basement. There’s a loose brick behind it. I found those inside the wall. It’s no trick, and I’m not lying. I help you find his killer, then you’ll like me. We belong together. You’ll soon see that.”
Fuck, he really is unhinged. Obsessed. But if he actually found evidence of Enrique’s death, I may give in to him a little bit. Have some fun. But something serious? Nah.
I head inside with Constantine following close behind. I place the letters and the box on the coffee table and take off my coat. After I tossit onto the armrest of the couch, I sit down and grab the little box. I really need a shower, but it’ll have to wait. This is more important.
I don’t need to open the black velvet box to know what’s inside, but still, when I do, my heart rate kicks up a notch. The diamond ring is beautiful and shimmers in the dim lighting. It’s a woman’s ring.
Enrique had been seeing someone, and someone special enough to marry. And he never fucking told me. I can’t help but feel a little betrayed. It wasn’t like him to keep secrets, especially big ones like this. Did he even plan to tell me?
Constantine puts his jacket on top of mine, sits next to me, silent and still, as I set the box down and lift one of the letters, just staring at it.
“I’ve organized them in order… I think,” he finally says.
Nothing more is said as I read letter after letter. I may appear calm outwardly, but I’m raging inside. Not only did Enrique keep this from me, but it only confirms my suspicions that the Da Costas had him killed. Or they did it themselves. But not for the reason I’d believed. He’d been in love with fucking Carmen Da Costa, the daughter of Diego Da Costa and sister to Antonio Da Costa. Both men are ruthless. Antonio would have had no problem taking out Enrique. He preferred knives, though. He liked it bloody. It’s possible Diego took over that job to ‘protect’ his precious daughter.
This is fucking big. Is that why Enrique is dead? It has to be. I would’ve told him that he and Carmen were impossible. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me. I would’ve talked him out of it.
“Shit…” I whisper. I need to tell Alfonzo, and I need to do it soon.
“Do you know who did this? Was it her father and brother?” he asks.
I nod and glance at him. His face is so earnest and eager for my approval. He wants me to like him back so much. Admittedly, it’s niceto know what happened to Enrique and who did it. Constantine did what Alfonzo and Mario could not. Yeah, I’m fucking grateful that I finally have some answers.
“I know it’s a few days past Christmas, but thisisa great gift,” I tell him.
His face blooms into a blanket of pink, and he smiles shyly. God, whoisthis person? What sort of killer blushes and is shy? And a killer so desperate to be wanted? He’s so deluded that he doesn’t even see what he truly is. It just shows how abuse shapes a person. Who would he be if he hadn’t been so hurt as a child by his stepfather? He seems intelligent. Maybe he would’ve ended up a doctor or a lawyer. Perhaps a scientist who fucking cured something because there’s no denying he’s smart. Damn crazy, but smart.
He’s cute as hell, too. With some confidence in him, he’d be stunning. However, I do like this shy side for some reason. It humanizes him.
He glances away and starts fidgeting with his hands resting on his lap, but he doesn’t stop smiling.
