“Well, why are you here, then?” I braced myself for what was to come, no idea what she might say.
“Because we have to figure out where we go from here. We need to call a truce.”
“And I’m ready for that. I’ve told you… I want you to come home. Bring the kids. Let’s fix this.” I stepped toward her and she backed away again, but this time, she backed away with a look in her eyes that scared me. She wasn’t retreating, she was restraining herself. A twinge of pain ran through my stomach, reminding me of the consequences of getting too close to her.
“I have no interest in fixing us, Peter. What was left of our marriage turned to ash in that house. I want nothing to do with you. Don’t you get that?”
I tilted my head to the side slightly. “At the risk of getting tased again, I don’t think that’s true.”
Her grimace faltered. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think you want to hurt me, Ainsley. I don’t. I don’t think you ever meant to.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I tried to k—” She stopped, looking around. “Are you recording me? Is this some sort of setup?”
“Of course it isn’t a setup.” I scoffed, waving a hand around the garage.
She raised the stun gun to the space just in front of my neck. “Prove it.”
I swallowed. “How would you like me to prove it?”
“Say you’re a murderer.”
“I’m a murderer,” I repeated, keeping my eyes trained on the metal prongs in front of me.
“Say your name and what you’ve done.”
“I’m Peter Greenburg. I’ve…I’ve killed loads of people. Women, mostly. Men too, lately.” My eyes flicked up from the weapon to meet hers. “I’m a bad, bad man. Happy?”
She hesitated, but eventually lowered the pink weapon. Was its color meant to be so misleading? If you just saw it out of the corner of your eye, it could’ve been a makeup box or a bottle of perfume from her dresser.
With the weapon tucked safely back in her arms, she narrowed her gaze at me. “Make no mistake about it, Peter, I wanted to do much more than hurt you. If it wasn’t for your little escape hatch, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.”
I clicked my tongue, my cheek drawing inward with smug disbelief. I couldn’t help myself. I was beginning to feel sure I’d been right. “See, I don’t think that’s the case.”
“What are you talking about?” she sneered.
“Ainsley, you’re the most competent woman I know. You’re always, always one step ahead of me. You fix things. You don’t make mistakes. I’ve tried to think, but…I can’t think of a single time where I recall you making a mistake. Not ever. You’re…calculating. Meticulous. You think everything through ten ways to Sunday—”
“Six ways.”
“What?”
“It’s six ways to Sun…” she said halfheartedly. “Doesn’t matter. What’s your point?”
“My point is… Why would you mess up this one thing?” I held up a finger. “Probably the most important thing you’ve ever had to do? Why would you let even a tiny little possibility of me escaping slip under your radar?”
“I couldn’t have known about the other door.”
“But you still knew there might be a way. Why would you leave it to chance?” I studied her, watching for a confirmation in her eyes. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. “You wouldn’t,” I filled in. “You wouldn’t. Not if you actually wanted it done. If you wanted me to be dead, I’d be dead, Ainsley. There’s no doubt in my mind. You killed Joanna. You killed Jim.”
“It was different—”
“Because they meant nothing to you, and…because you love me.”
Her eyes widened as if I’d slapped her. The tension in the room was thick, my words hanging in the air between us.
“You’re delusional…” She stroked her arm as a means of self-comfort.
“If you wanted me dead, you wouldn’t have knocked me out and set the house on fire and hoped for the best. You’re too thorough for that. You’d have sliced my throat and watched me bleed out. You’d have checked for a pulse. You’d have buried me in the backyard and washed the blood off of every surface.” I shook my head. “See, I’ve gone over it every way there is, and it just doesn’t make sense. Unless—”