The Memory Therapist - ONC 2020

Chapter Twenty

Engaged. Even after a couple of weeks, it doesn't feel real. Not in a dream-like way, more like a nightmare. I never wanted to settle down. A husband and kids were never in my plan - there was no white picket fence nonsense in my future. Years ago I may have humoured the idea as a way to help me blend into society because who would assume a soccer mom was capable of being a serial killer? But it was never more than a brief thought. 

And yet, here I am today: engaged and pregnant. 

I never actually thought that it would become reality though. I don't get emotionally attached. If anything, a husband and kids would just slow me down and distract me from what is really important. An inevitable downfall. 

Now I have no choice. I am engaged to the detective who is determined to catch me, even if he doesn't know it is me he is looking for. I could have said no, but I know that this opportunity was too good to pass up. 

Of course I am trapped now - there's no way that I can call off the engagement and still have control over Charles.

As for kids... a means to an end now. 

I haven't told Phil about the pregnancy or the engagement. I'm too close to being done with this investigation for his obsession to ruin it all. Emotions make you do stupid things and I have no doubt that Phil will lose his shit over this. 

All that needs to happen now is for the DNA results to return from the hairs collected at the crime scene. How has it been a couple of weeks and no update? Don't they rush these kinds of cases? 

Until this investigation is closed, I can't do what I actually want to be doing: killing. My self-control is next to none. I refuse to screw myself over for one night of pleasure, especially because if this works, and I know it already has, I can have the rest of my life to enjoy myself. 

My cell phone begins to ring, pulling me out of my thoughts. When I see that it's Charles, my pulse quickens. Is this finally the call? 

"Detective Maison," I greet with fake formality. 

"Ray..." I hear the hesitation in his voice. Bingo.  

"What's wrong? Another murder?" 

"Can you come down to the station, please?" he deflects. 

"I'll leave right now." I hang up the phone, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants. This is it. If I play this wrong, I'm done for. 

No pressure. 

*** 

I enter the police station, forcing myself to appear calm when in reality I am actually nervous. Perhaps it's really excitement. This is when I see if I am really smarter than Charles. If I win our game. 

Before I can even ask an officer where Charles' desk is, he calls my name from the other side of the room to get my attention, beckoning me over to the interview rooms. Clearly, the information he has he doesn't want to be public knowledge. 

"Charles," I peck him on the cheek before walking past him into the interrogation room. I wonder if there is anyone else on the other side of the two way mirror who will be evaluating my performance. 

"Rayne, we got the DNA results back from the crime scene." He's nervous, not wanting to believe what the results have told him. That's good for me - it means he will readily accept my alternative story. 

"That's good, right?" I ask, eyeing him suspiciously as if I don't know why I had to be summoned here to receive this update. I place my hand on my stomach despite there barely being any growth. A small reminder to him how vulnerable I am.