Chapter 47th
"I lied!" My voice shook, nearly failing at the nerve-wracking task of purposefully diverting Chris's attention – bringing it to myself.
"About my friend – Danilo. I know why you wanted his fingerprints…"
"A little too late for that, don't you think, darling?" he placed his hand over my shoulder, as if ready to bring me with him. I yanked myself free with despair, and spoke faster, as if it meant salvation… or just a little more time:
"NO! I mean… I knew it… so I didn't collect them." and here came the revelation. Chris paused once more, a short truce in the game we played where he reached for me and I dodged him desperately.
Cowardly, I feared what he'd do to me once he knew, but I had to say it: if only to buy my early death:
"I didn't get his fingerprints, I…" the fear of saying it to his face devolved, until I could fear it no more: only rage moved me. I lifted my chin and spoke proudly, challenging him: "I tricked you! No one has touched that ice pick but me!"
Chris walked closer to me, but it was easy to stand my ground – easy not to flinch under his cornering approach, but mostly because… he didn't seem angry. In fact, a soft, carefree smile pulled the corners of his lip again as he stood so close to my face, breathing the very same air I breathed… subjugating my eyes into responding to his. One long minute of that, and I had started sweating.
"I forgive you…" he spoke at last in a low, playful tone… then chuckled, perfectly untroubled. My heart skipped a beat again, and I felt the plunge into that deep pit of despair: it felt like drowning.
"..what…"
"I don't need it. It's not in my best interest to offer you respite from your mental demons, but since you've brought it up, I'll give you as much: I don't need to frame your little boyfriend. Not anymore. You can rest your mind easy that no one will ever think he's done anything to you."
"What?!" I panted.
"You see, I took your cop friend's car for a spin… because you did have a good point then: I wouldn't want it sitting nearby! And it's such a lovely, quiet night, I rather enjoyed myself… It eased my nerves, even: the same nerves you picked on relentlessly since the day I've met you! Anyway… that chill night air, the dark sky… they inspired an idea into my brain! A good one!"
I watched him suspensefully, uncomfortably…
"I have found a way of incorporating this unexpected turn of events into our little time together. And I'll tell you… it fits like a glove!" and he turned, facing the cop. His eyes shot up, preoccupied – mine found them immediately, half-guessing where Chris was taking this.
…And how it hurt me to be right! As soon as the words escaped his mouth, I felt an icy swirl in my chest:
"I've been to his house." He smiled… chuckled even "And man, does he need a hobby!"
What a desperate glare I exchanged with the cop then, what a toxic, coward stare of almost anger that he had somehow offered Chris an easy way out!
"You wouldn't believe the kind of literature he has lying around. And to think you're only a street cop!" Chris mock-frowned "One would wonder where you got so many homicide files… and why. Specially why you'd hang them on the wall near your bed, next to a box of tissues – the hanging was my courtesy, of course…" and he turned to me to smile, as I was his audience. "I like hanging things…" he winked, turned back around "But anyway, it's going to look terribly suspicious for you when you get involved in the awful killing of this cute young thing…" he waved his hand at my general direction. The cop gasped, growing agitated. "…you won't be alive to defend yourself, of course: She's small but fierce… I've had a taste of that, first-hand. Somehow, she managed to… where is that?" he fidgeted into the pocket of his jacket and retrieved the icepick inside the plastic bag "Here it is! In her final struggle for her life, she managed to shove this icepick from the kitchen inside your soft throat… Sadly, she didn't make it either: you'd already stabbed her." And he turned to face me, his eyes hard and impassive before that unveiled threat.
"I won't spoil where the knife goes: I haven't decided yet."
I winced, my head dropped, my eyes fixed on the ground, bulging, hurting…
"I do like that profile you jotted of me, though. Somewhat flattering: 'Self-confident, successful, highly intelligent'? Why, thank you! Sadistic? Yeah, well… we can't really choose what rocks our boat, can we? But the icing on the cake was that far-fetched conclusion scribbled at the end, the ironic twist to this charade: you said I just might be a cop."
He paused and pointed the icepick towards Joe, accusingly. I watched Joe sweat.
"A self-portrait if ever there was one, my friend: You've nailed your own coffin with your 'profiling', and that didn't bring you a single step closer to me."
The walls were extra dark, extra oppressive now that Chris paced around the basement, spilling that awful tale of horror that predicted the future. All we could do was watch him nervously, two very immersed members of the audience, and characters in his tale.
"That being said… I did enjoy that trip down memory lane: all those crime scene photos, the investigation reports… but I'm not stupid. I'm not here claiming trophies, nor am I penning letters to the police and looking for a spot in the media. I don't care for the attention, I just want to have my fill and enjoy it… to savor it for as long as I can, as long as it lasts… then take only memories with me. It does leave a man longing for more, admittedly… but that's why I want to enjoy them to their fullest." He turned to address me "Having that freedom threatened really put me off my game, but I'm glad I went out there and fixed the mess you two have made. Now, there's no reason to rush things, is there?" he turned to face me, his nose inching closer to my face, his eyes surveying me with an air of superiority "There never was before…" his mouth flickered a meaner smile "And I've made sure it will be no different with you, my unripe little friend!"