Page 48 of Psycho
Lucas smiled. August had a way of using people’s names like a warning. He’d done the same thing last night when Lucas had him tied to the bed. His whole body flushed at the thought. He’d had August Mulvaney tied to his bed, had experienced what was probably the single most erotic and intimate moment of his life to date…and there was literally nobody to tell.
“Ugh, fine. Do you want me to let your father know you’re coming?” Calliope asked, defeated.
“No. It’s fine. I imagine, if he’s home, he’ll find his way to us eventually. He has a sixth sense about these things. And, whatever you do, do not tell the others. Lucas doesn’t need to be overwhelmed by the rest of the family.”
“Aww,” Calliope simpered.
August disconnected with an eye roll, then looked at Lucas. “Are you sure you’re up for this? My father hazed the shit out of Noah when Adam brought him home the first time.”
Lucas’s chest squeezed. “He can’t be worse than the people I thought were my friends. I need to see this through. I’ve wasted too much time running scared since I got out. Who knows what Kohn’s been doing or how much blood I have on my hands because of it.”
August frowned. “You didn’t do any of this. You tried to warn others. You tried to do the right thing and they punished you for it. This is on them.”
When August stood, Cricket called out, “Um, Lucas?”
Something in the way her voice wavered made his original uneasiness ramp up a notch. “Yeah?”
She hesitated, then reached under the counter and retrieved a box. “I know you said to call you if I saw that man again, but…” She trailed off, her face pale.
There was nothing ominous about the box, but she held it gingerly like it was a bomb. It was just a black shoebox with an elaborate red ribbon around it and a small white tag.
She came around the counter, chewing on her bottom lip. “Um, this was outside our door this morning. It had your name on it. It wasn’t August’s writing. Something about it gave me the creeps, but I wasn’t sure if it was from that guy or not. I was going to show you when you came in but you just looked so happy. But now that you’re leaving…what should I do with it?”
Lucas’s stomach dropped, but August took it from her calmly and gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll take it from here. If you get any more packages like this, give us a call. Don’t touch them, just call me.” He fished a business card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Lucas is going to be staying with me from now on.”
“What?” Lucas asked, head snapping up.
August set his jaw like he was ready to fight if necessary. “You heard me. He’s toying with you. You’re not going to play some cat and mouse game with a serial killer.”
Cricket gasped. “Serial killer? He said he was an FBI agent.” She frowned, muttering to herself, “That badge looked so legit.”
“He is a serial killer and itisa real badge,” August said with a matter-of-fact tone that floored Lucas. “So, you can imagine how dangerous he is. If you see him, call me. No matter what time of day or night. Understand? Don’t call the cops. Call me.”
Cricket’s eyes went wide, and she nodded, clearly spooked.
Lucas probably shouldn’t find this bossy and authoritative August as attractive as awkward and stilted August, but he did. The man was a dozen different people all rolled into one sexy, brainy package and Lucas’s psychotherapist heart was there for it. He would never be bored with August.
Cricket swallowed audibly, her hand crumpling August’s card in a death grip. “Am I going to die or something?”
August gave her a surprisingly gentle smile. “You’re not his type. People will care if you go missing.”
A myriad of expressions played across Cricket’s face as she was at once relieved but also horrified at the implications of his statement. Nobody wanted to think their safety came at the expense of somebody less fortunate.
Lucas raised his hand to touch her arm but then thought better of it. He didn’t need any accidental transference. He was anxious enough as is. “It’s going to be okay.”
Cricket gave him an incredulous look. He got it. He wasn’t sure he actually believed his words any more than she did. But he had to keep telling himself it would be okay.
Until it wasn’t.
* * *
Thomas Mulvaney’s home looked like something out of a movie. Sprawling grounds with lush landscaping. A garage big enough to fit Lucas’s apartment five times over. A giant house that looked like it could easily hold the college’s entire social sciences department with no trouble.
August didn’t knock, just pushed open the door, nodding at a young woman in a polo shirt and khakis pushing a vacuum cleaner across a Persian rug, her ponytail swinging as she moved. All throughout the house were other cleaners, dozens of them. How many people did it take to upkeep a house of this size?
August paid little attention to any of them, giving a head nod to anybody who frowned in their direction, but otherwise dragging Lucas through the house without justifying his presence. Lucas supposed just understanding the complicated layout of the place had to give some indication he belonged there. Lucas hadn’t been in a house this big since he worked a case where a corporate mogul had fallen victim to a serial arsonist, and that house had been missing most of its walls by the time they’d arrived on the scene.
August led him down a narrow corridor to a solid door with a keypad. He dialed the code without worrying about Lucas watching over his shoulder. Maybe the code changed daily or something.
