Sunken Graves by Alan Lee (life books to read txt) 📗

destroy them?”

“You heard a rumor about that.”

“I…”

“Be honest with me. I’m an attorney with a built-in bullshit detector.”

“Okay, Peter.”

“You heard a rumor about me, didn’t you.”

“Yes.”

“About my destructive side.”

“Yes.”

“Which rumor?”

“About California.”

“Ah.” He leaned back and finally tried his own wine. The glass clinked when he returned it.

“Are they true?” she said.

“Depends on what you heard.” A pause and then, in a fit of madness, “Actually, no, it doesn’t depend. The rumors are true. All of them.”

He watched his own reflection grow in her eyes as the waiter brought their first course. Bread, cheese, salami, and olives.

He pushed the olives her way.

“These are for you. A natural aphrodisiac.”

At her reaction, he laughed. Loudly and he couldn’t stop.

He felt so good.

Jennings, in his truck, the motor running. Eyes glued to the map on his phone screen, to Hathaway’s dot at Bloom.

“Update me, Craig.”

“I’m freezing.”

“At least you get to watch. I’m dying.”

Lewis’ reply came scratchy through the speakerphone. “They’re on soup now. Our girl’s doing great. Lynch looks like a man in love.”

Jennings didn’t realize he’d stomped the gas pedal until his RPMs reached 4,000.

This was torture.

“You cheered in high school, I bet.” Lynch already knew she had. He’d gone through her social media and her yearbooks.

“I did.”

“And college. At Belmont?”

“You remember,” she said.

“That’s where your calf muscles are from, the years of work. Did the college squad have male cheerleaders?”

“Yes.”

“Where they gay?” said Lynch.

“Two of them. In the closet.”

“Did you date the straight ones?”

“No. Not my type.”

“It’s the same with a male nurse, I assume. A male nurse wouldn’t be your type either.”

She finished her soup and set the spoon down. Wiped her mouth and laid the napkin on the table. It irked him. The napkin should go in the lap.

“Why do you keep saying Daniel should be a nurse?”

Lynch shrugged. “He was a medic in the Army. It’s quite a similar situation to the male cheerleader, when you think about it. I’d be doing him a favor, firing him.”

“Can you do that?”

“I’m on the board.”

She said, “But the other trustees? The head of school?”

“Rich fools in need of a good lawyer. I own over half the board. Own them, Daisy. They come to me with their dirty secrets. They’re being sued by their au pair or their wife was arrested for cocaine or their son diddled an underage girl, and I make the secrets vanish within the halls of injustice. They know not to cross me. I alone sway the board vote.”

Hathaway felt a flutter of heightened panic.

“You asked about pain. Tell me this, Daisy. Think back to cheerleading in high school and college. You were in peak physical condition. Your body so tight and perfect that it squeaked. Surrounded by boys mad for you. They’re in heat, would kill to be with you for a night. And you’re wearing a tiny skirt and tight shirt and jumping around. You know the boys are watching. Salivating. You’re pretending you don’t notice. That it’s all innocent. You remember.”

“I…”

“You denied them and you caused them pain.”

“Perhaps.”

“You know you did, Daisy. You knew it at the time, you know it now. That makes it even sweeter. Admit it. Part of the joy of looking good is withholding it.”

“Everyone wants to be admired, Peter.”

“You hurt them. On purpose. You were a blessing and a curse. You knew the porn running through their heads.”

The same thoughts running through Lynch’s.

They stared at each other and shared the knowledge. He didn’t hide it. He reeked of lust.

“Hm,” she said.

“So you understand, Daisy, the joy of pain.”

“On a different scale.”

“Imagine it heightened. The excruciating passion. I don’t process emotions like most people. But pain is something I can feel. Burning to death would be a tremendous high, don’t you think?”

The waitress removed their soup bowls and laid out dishes of fish and butternut squash purée and soft potatoes.

“Try it,” he said.

Daisy complied. Of course she did. She ate a bite of bass. Closed her eyes and slowly withdrew the spoon.

“Delicious.”

“I know. Do as you’re told and it’ll always be delicious.”

“Do you hurt the girls that please you, Peter?”

“It’s a good hurt. Sounds strange, but trust me.”

“It’s sexual.”

“Of course pain is sexual.”

“Do you hurt the girls that don’t please you?”

“Yes.” Lynch was on his second glass of chardonnay. Not enough to be drunk. But he felt giddy. Her rapt attention filled him with raw power. With invincibility. She felt like the first snort of cocaine, a high chased by coke heads, a high they’d give anything for.

Her toe still fiddled with his pants. She whispered now. “Do you do worse than hurt them?”

“Anything I do to girls, they deserve. And they enjoy it.”

“Such as?” she said.

“Let’s not rush things, Daisy.”

She paused. Set her fork down and leaned back. Cast her eyes across the restaurant, as though she’d lost interest. Disappointed.

She didn’t believe him, he realized. She thought he was just bragging with empty words. The loss of her gaze felt like the loss of the sun. His skin felt cold. Her toe was gone.

He’d been humming and laughing to himself but it stopped. Anger and grief intermingled in his mouth.

“Yes, Daisy, I…I do worse than hurt the girls.”

Her eyes swiveled back. “You do.”

“Oh yes. Look at me, Daisy. Do you not see a man of strength?”

“You look like a man who can do anything he wants.”

“I am.”

“What do you do, Peter? With your girls. The ones who anger you.”

“I already told you.”

She inclined her body toward him again. The closer she got, the more energized he became, like solar power.

“I didn’t catch it. Tell me again.”

“No. But I’ll tell you something else. I have a field.”

“You have a field?” she said.

“Yes.”

“At your house?”

“Beyond the stable.” Humming and giggling again.

“And?”

“You’re asking second date questions, Daisy.”

“What about the field?”

“Nope. That’s all you get. Use your imagination about the field.” He speared a flake of fish and dipped it into the squash purée. Held it out for her. “Now. Open up.”

Lewis said, “Ms. Hathaway’s…she’s eating food off