He paused, knowing what I was thinking. He set his glass on the hearth and took my hand.
‘I’ve been hoping you would,’ he said. ‘No matter how hard it is, you really should. So you can have closure, peace of mind.’
‘I’m not sure it’s possible for me to have peace of mind.’ I pulled my hand away and pushed back my hair. This was hard for him, too. It had to be.
‘You must miss him,’ I said. ‘You never talk about it, but he was like a brother. I remember all the times we did things together, the three of us. Cooking, watching movies, sitting around talking about cases and the latest lousy thing government had done to us. Like furloughs, taxes, budget cuts.’
He smiled a little, staring into flames. ‘And I would think about what a lucky bastard he was to have you. Wonder what it was like. Well, now I know, and I was right. He was lucky as hell. He’s probably the only person I’ve ever really talked to, besides you. Kind of strange, in a way. Mark was one of the most self-centered people I’ve ever met, one of these beautiful creatures, narcissistic as hell. But he was good. He was smart. I don’t think you ever stop missing someone like him.’
Wesley was wearing a white wool sweater and cream-colored khakis, and in firelight he was almost radiant.
‘You go out tonight and you’ll disappear,’ I said.
He gave me a puzzled frown.
‘Dressed like that in the snow. You fall in a ditch, no one will see you until spring. You should wear something dark on a night like this. You know, contrast.’
‘Kay. How about I put on some coffee.’
‘It’s like people who want a four-wheel-drive vehicle for winter. So they buy something white. Tell me how that makes sense when you’re sliding on a white road beneath a white sky with white stuff swirling everywhere.’
‘What are you talking about?’ His eyes were on me.
‘I don’t know.’
I lifted the bottle of champagne out of its bucket. Water dripped as I refilled our glasses, and I was ahead of him, about two to one. The CD player was stacked with hits from the seventies, and Three Dog Night was vibrating speakers in the walls. It was one of those rare times I might get drunk. I could not stop thinking about it and seeing it in my mind. I did not know until I was in that room with the wires hanging out of the ceiling and saw where gory severed hands and feet had been lined in a row. It was not until then that the truth seared my mind. I could not forgive myself.
‘Benton,’ I quietly said, ‘I should have known it was her. I should have known before I got to her house and walked in there and saw the photographs and that room. I mean, a part of me must have known, and I didn’t listen.’
He did not answer, and I took this as a further indictment.
‘I should have known it was her,’ I muttered again. ‘People might not have died.’
‘Should is always easy to say after the fact.’ His tone was gentle but unwavering. ‘People who live next door to the Gacys, the Bundys, the Dahmers of the world are always the last to figure it out, Kay.’
‘And they don’t know what I do, Benton.’ I sipped champagne. ‘She killed Wingo.’
‘You did the best you could,’ he reminded me.
‘I miss him,’ I said with a sad sigh. ‘I haven’t been to Wingo’s grave.’
‘Why don’t we switch to coffee?’ Wesley said again.
‘Can’t I just drift now and then?’ I didn’t want to be present.
He started rubbing the back of my neck, and I shut my eyes.
‘Why do I always have to make sense?’ I muttered. ‘Precise about this, exact about that. Consistent with, and characteristic of. Words cold and sharp like the steel blades I use. And what good will they do me in court? When it’s Lucy in the balance? Her career, her life? All because of that bastard, Ring. Me, the expert witness. The loving aunt.’ A tear slid down my cheek. ‘Oh God, Benton. I’m so tired.’