Chapter 32

It wasn‘t over. After Agent Walker and his horde of FBI and local law enforcement showed up at the studio, they’d taken Kyle and Levi into custody. Despite the fact that Levi had been stabbed and lost plenty of blood, the blade had managed to miss every major organ. Paramedics insisted he would be fine once they stitched him up. I got the feeling that Kyle had never actually intended to kill his partner. It had just been the fastest way to keep Levi from doing the job he’d wanted to finish himself. And in a messed up way, I think Levi had even respected Kyle for it. He’d taken a stand and tried to fix the problem on his own.

Their relationship was all kinds of weird.

Zhara had to get a few stitches above his eye from where Levi had knocked him out, but other than that, he was okay, too. Of course, he’d complained about scarring his beautiful face and had insisted on seeing a plastic surgeon. However, when he found out his insurance wouldn’t cover it, he decided the war wound would give him “street cred.”

He’d walked around flaunting the injury for days after that, retelling his acts of bravery, including how he’d tackled and taken down one of the most notorious serial killers of all time. Zhara kept saying that when they eventually filmed the true story behind the Ice-Pick Murders, that we’d be seen as the stars. I didn’t exactly want that to be the legacy I left behind, but Zhara was fully ready for his close-up.

Unfortunately, not everyone was as lucky as Zhara and I had been. Scarlett’s death hit everyone at RBC especially hard. Not only because she’d been so young and had been killed in such a horrible way, but because she was one of our own. The other dancers hadn’t taken the news well. Most of them had been like me; we had tunnel vision when it came to dance, and the idea that something like this could actually happen to us or someone we knew, was outside our range of thinking. Suddenly I realized I wasn’t the only one who’d led a sheltered life. It seemed to be a part of the world we lived in.

Only, for me, things had changed. I had changed.

Scarlett’s parents chose to have her buried at a cemetery in town, because they insisted she would’ve wanted her soul to remain near the studio that had brought her so much joy and purpose. Given what Preston had told me though, I wondered if it was just one more way for her parents to keep their daughter at an arm’s length. It made me sad to think that even in death, she hadn’t been able to make them proud.

On the day of the service, everyone at RBC showed up to say goodbye. The church was bright and airy, and sun rays shot down from the windows near the roof. Everything was decorated in light pink at the request of Scarlett’s parents, as it had been their daughter’s favorite color. Since I’d had a chance to see the inside of her apartment, I knew this to be true. It was also the color that was most often associated with dance, so it seemed appropriate enough. Pictures of Scarlett had been blown up to poster-size and were displayed near the casket at the front of the room. They showed a smiling and stunning Scarlett at various ages, dancing, twirling, leaping. Doing the thing she’d loved most in this world.

At one point it dawned on me that this might be what my own funeral looked like one day. And from the faces of the other dancers, I wondered if they weren’t thinking the same thing.

The service was as beautiful as a funeral could possibly be. Dancers lined up to say nice things about Scarlett, recalling stories that were either funny or endearing or showcased who she’d been. Preston was the last to speak and what he’d said was perfect. It was the only time I felt like I might not be able to make it through without crying. I saw how much he was hurting and I so badly wanted to go to him. Hold his hand. Let him know how sorry I was…for everything.

But I couldn’t.

I sat in the back of the church next to Zhara, trying my best to keep a low-profile, but completely aware of the fact that everyone knew I’d had a part in Scarlett’s death. It hadn’t taken long for the rumors to spread around the company. Too many people had witnessed me going into her apartment that day, and what I’d said to Preston afterward. They’d heard me describe everything in gory detail.

Now everyone seemed to know that Kyle had stalked me, too. They didn’t have to say it for me to know they blamed me for her death. Or that they were mildly scared to be associated with me despite the fact that Kyle and Levi had been caught.

Again.

After the service was over, we headed over to the cemetery where Scarlett’s body would finally be laid to rest. I didn’t want to go. The idea of being in a place where there were hundreds of dead bodies just lying around didn’t exactly appeal to me. But I felt like I owed it to Scarlett—and to myself—to see this through to the end.

So I went.

This time though, I stood far away from the rest of the mourners, choosing to experience the moment alone in order to give the others a chance to say goodbye without my presence as a distraction. Today wasn’t about me, after all. It was about the life that had been lost.

It was about Scarlett.

I watched as people approached her casket and said goodbye. Some stood there longer than others, whispering softly while touching the blonde wood or closing their eyes sadly as they lamented silently. A few cried uncontrollably as friends held onto them, lending them the strength they needed to remain standing. I, however, leaned against a tree in the back, my body half-hidden by its trunk, tears running steadily down my face but refusing to make a sound.

As the service finally wound up, I wiped at my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Why are you back here alone?” a guy’s voice asked from behind me.

I was startled by the noise, but relaxed as I recognized whom it belonged to.

“Just doesn’t feel right being over there with the others,” I said, turning to face Agent Walker. “I figure I’ve done enough.”

“Emmy, this wasn’t your fault,” he said easily. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his black suit, the flaps of his jacket pushed behind him. This was the first time I’d seen him in anything dressier than jeans and a button-down. It made him look older.

“How’s the case going?” I asked, changing the subject. It would be a long time before I’d be able to let go of the guilt over what had happened to Scarlett, and I was too drained to start dealing with it today.

“Good,” he said nodding. “We may need you to fill in a few more blanks for us, but everything’s starting to come together. Now that we know that Grafton had an accomplice, it all makes a lot more sense.”

“I know,” I said, understanding what he meant. “Once Levi confessed, I started to see all the ways it connected. The multiple voices, the different kill tactics…now it seems obvious that it was too much for one person to handle. Had you guys ever considered there were two of them?”

Julian shook his head. “It’s really rare for serial killers to team up. I mean, it’s definitely happened in the past, but most of the time it’s a male/female team and the woman is sort of just…along for the ride. And besides that, Grafton’s diary never mentioned another man. It’s like he completely omitted that part of his life.”

“I’ve actually been thinking about that and have a theory,” I said, then added, “if you want to hear it.”

Agent Walker smiled at me. “Of course.”

“Well, I was thinking, most of his entries involving me were fake. Almost like they were fantasies of what he wished had happened. So, maybe his diary was the only place he felt he had control over the world he lived in. Like it was his ultimate reality. And in it, he didn’t need an accomplice to do the things he wanted to. It was just him and the girls.”

He looked over at me impressed. “Looks like I’ve been rubbing off on you,” he said, jokingly.

“Don’t get too excited,” I said. “I’m not hanging up my toe shoes yet.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” he said, looking over my shoulder. “I have a feeling you’d miss it too much. And I think someone would be disappointed to see you go.”

I smiled. “Actually, after what happened with Kyle and Levi, Zhara could probably use a break from me,” I said.

“I wasn’t talking about Zhara,” Agent Walker said, motioning behind me.

Confused, I turned to see Zhara and Preston walking our way. I hadn’t even realized that the service had ended and that people were beginning to leave. When Preston’s eyes met mine, my heart began to race. I hadn’t talked to him since the night we’d…

And now he was coming over. Here. To me.

He slowed as they got nearer to us, allowing for Zhara to pull ahead of him.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?” Zhara said flirtily to Agent Walker.

I started to apologize for my friend’s brazenness, but the agent beat me to it.

“Can you blame me?” Agent Walker responded, jokingly. Then more seriously, he added, “Figured you could use the company today.”

My mouth dropped open, but the two guys were too engrossed in each other to notice. When the heck had that happened?

“I can always use the company, honey,” Zhara said. Then he turned to me and gave me a hug. “You gonna be okay?”

Preston was still standing nearby, like he was waiting. I hoped he was waiting for me.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “But we will talk about this later.”

“Prepare yourself, child,” Zhara said. “Because I can guarantee the details won’t be suitable for children.”

I stared after them as they left, my head spinning from this new development.

“Hey,” Preston said eventually, breaking through my thoughts. “Wanna take a walk?”

I nodded and we began to move in the opposite direction, careful not to step on any plots as we went. It was a typically sunny California day, the exact opposite of what you’d expect to accompany a funeral. But I was grateful for the warmth of the sun shining down on us anyway. It was hard to stay gloomy for too long when the weather was so nice.

“So…you clean up well,” I said finally, noting that he was wearing a clean black suit despite the heat. When some people dressed up, it made them look like waiters. Preston looked like James Bond.

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself,” he answered. “A nice change from a leotard and tights.”

He gave me that sideways smirk of his, reminding me of that day in my apartment. My stomach twinged as I relived it, giving me that nervous feeling I’d started to associate with him.

“Speaking of, I’ve been meaning to tell you congratulations,” he said. “For Giselle.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said, finding it hard to talk about the subject.

The teachers at RBC had decided to cancel auditions for Giselle in light of what had happened. Instead, they’d assigned the parts based off of what they’d seen during the past few months. I’d ended up getting what I’d wanted all along—the starring role of Giselle—but it hadn’t made me feel happy like I thought it would.

“I feel kind of guilty over how it all happened,” I confessed. “Like I didn’t earn it? Scarlett should’ve been around to audition.”

Preston was quiet for a moment. “You’re right. She should’ve been here to audition,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you deserved the part. In the end, you know it would’ve been yours, whether she was here or not.”

I’d needed someone to tell me that and now that he had, I felt like I could finally be happy for myself. I was still sad about Scarlett, but he was right. I’d earned that role.

“Thanks, Preston,” I said, softly. “That means a lot.”

There was so much I wanted to say to him, so much I felt I needed to explain. I’d thought about talking to him so many times since Kyle and Levi had been caught, but then I’d wondered if it was better to just leave it alone. Leave him alone. I’d already hurt him by forcing him away. Even if I still agreed with my actions, I wasn’t sure he’d forgive me.

But what if he did? What if we could try this again? Would it all be worth it in the end?

“Zhara told me what happened,” he said suddenly, his eyes fixed on the ground. “That you caught the guy who killed Scarlett. And the one who was after you, too?”

I nodded.

“You really have a knack for making guys fall for you, huh?” he said jokingly.

He laughed, so I did too. Our conversation was starting to feel comfortable again and I hoped this meant that he didn’t hate me for what I’d done.

“Trust me, it’s not by choice,” I answered. We were passing a mausoleum and I slowed down to run my fingers against the stone surface. It was perfectly smooth, the way marble was, but had a different texture to it. I took my time admiring it, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to say what I wanted to if I was looking directly at him. “Besides, there’s only one person I wanted to fall for me.”

“Oh yeah?” Preston asked, curiously.

“Yeah,” I said, forcing myself to say it. “But I pushed him away. I mean, I had a good reason for it—but I regret having to do it.”

“Zhara also told me the guy—Scarlett’s murderer—threatened to go after the people you cared about,” Preston said softly. “I just wasn’t sure that included me.”

A flicker of hope ignited in my chest and at first I was afraid to respond. I liked this place where possibility was alive and I could still hang on to the idea that things could work out for the best. But just like with Kyle’s fantasies, I knew that’s what they were. Fantasies. Eventually reality kicked in, and the truth was brought to light. Better to lay it all out on the table now, than have my world implode later.

“Of course that included you,” I said, looking at him now. “Preston, I don’t usually let people…get close to me the way you did. It’s just not something I let happen. There’s too much to lose when you start caring about someone.”

And I don’t know how to be someone’s girlfriend. Or how to date without getting swept away and losing everything else, I thought.

“So you go through life alone? Not letting anyone in?” Preston asked me. “Emmy, that’s no way to live life.”

“I think I’m starting to see that,” I said quietly. “But I need to do things my way.”

“I understand,” Preston said, nodding.

“I’m not sure you do. Before I met you, I was on my way to achieving my dreams and a relationship was the furthest thing from my mind. Not only was it something I hadn’t pursued, but it wasn’t something I’d wanted,” I explained, sneaking a glance over at him. He began kicking at some rocks on the ground, like he didn’t want to hear what I was going to say next.

“And then you showed up and my whole world was turned upside down. You made me wonder if I wanted that. If it was worth losing what I’d always dreamed of to have a relationship. Love…” I said carefully. Preston tried to cut in, but I wouldn’t let him. “See, my number one love is ballet. It might always be. And I’m not going to apologize for that. I don’t think I should have to.”

I paused.

“But I’m willing to see if I can have both,” I finished quietly and turned my focus back to the wall. “Keep my focus on ballet, and be with you.”

I didn’t dare breathe as I waited for Preston to respond. This was the moment of truth, the act that scared me more than anything else in the world: making myself vulnerable and giving up control. But being vulnerable didn’t have to mean being weak; it could just mean allowing someone else to lighten the load.

When I felt Preston’s hand finally touch my arm, I got the nerve to look at him and saw something I hadn’t expected.

Joy.

Not cockiness over a girl confessing her feelings for him or smug satisfaction. Just genuine happiness.

He leaned me gently against the wall and ran his hand over the length of my arm until our fingers were entwined. And without saying anything else, he kissed me. Just as passionately as our first time, but now with more tenderness.

When we finally pulled away, Preston kept his face close to mine and stared into my eyes.

“I know we can have both,” he said, his voice low and sexy. “You, Emmy, are worth trying for.”

—–

Diary Entry: Now

I had to wait over a week until I could buy a notebook and a pen from the commissary. Took that long to gain access to my funds and then I‘d had to really think about what I wanted to spend my money on. There are certain necessities that one needs in here to survive and although keeping an account of my time is important, so is shampoo and soap and food…

Luckily, I started getting letters last week. Mostly from women around the U.S., all insisting that they believe in my innocence, and promising to send me checks so that I can buy the necessary supplies to write them back.

It‘s nice to know I haven‘t lost my touch with the ladies even though I‘m stuck here behind bars.

Again.

This time they say it‘s for good. The guards and cops and justice seekers have all made it clear I‘m gonna fry for this. That if I‘d been smart, I would‘ve run far away while I had the chance. They taunt me about being foolish enough to give up my freedom for a girl. One, they remind me, I didn‘t even get in the end.

But they‘re wrong. They think I didn‘t succeed, that my opportunity to kill Emmy is gone forever.

Well, guess what. Opportunities are like victims…

There‘ll always be another one.

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