The Psychopath Maker

Chapter Twenty-One

"I bet Gidget gave you that stomach virus." Faith started back swinging her legs. "That bitch."

"Bitch, indeed." Isabeth toyed with a lock of hair, watching the moon's glow reflect off Garmeaux Lake, yet another name linked to Faith's family. "There's a murderer on campus."

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" Faith asked turning around pulling her legs up on the bench.

Isabeth was used to Faith using French terms. The creole girl couldn't help it. "A sheriff stopped by earlier." Isabeth faced Faith, letting the tree bark rest against her skin. "He said Kevin was stabbed and pushed down the stairs."

A shiny haze formed on Faith's eyes and she dropped her head. Faith wiped her eyes and looked back Isabeth. "You know who did this?"

"Who?" Isabeth inquired.

"Psycho Benny."

"Wrong." Isabeth frantically shook her head as she sat up. "Benny did not do this."

"Oh, come on!" Faith slapped her thighs. "Just because you have some sick, psychopath fetish doesn't make him innocent."

"He's innocent 'cause he didn't kill Kevin."

"Kevin dragged his little ass in the gym." Faith quipped. "Some people...call that motive."

"Well." Isabeth stood up. "I don't." She picked up her shoes and left Faith on the bench by the tree and lake named after the girl's ancestors.

*****

Isabeth didn't go back to the dorm. Her feet led her to the parking lot. She got in her Land Rover, cranked up the engine and went for a ride. The last place she'd thought she'd be was Kyren Memorial but that's where she was. She stood outside the oak door pondering if she should knock or walk right in. She didn't want to catch him in a compromising situation but she didn't want to be told not to come in either. She went against her better judgment. She wrapped her hand around her eyes and pushed the door open.

"Hello," Isabeth said walking in the room. "I would've called first but...I don't have your number." The cheers of a crowd erupted in the room. Isabeth turned her face in the direction of the shouting.

Fingertips wrapped around Isabeth's wrist and her lungs refused to take in air.

"What are you doing here?" Benny pulled Isabeth's hand off her face.

Isabeth blinked, adjusting her eyes to the white light raining over them. Her lungs began functioning normally. 

She bit the inside of her lip wondering if his lips were that smooth or did he apply ChapStick every morning and after every sip of water. He smelled of nutmeg on a winter day, making her hunger for a pumpkin pie. The TV roared again and she flicked her eyes in its direction, Malachi's father, the one that didn't give him twenty-three chromosomes, was dribbling a basketball down the court. Then Isabeth remembered why she rode the elevator up to Benny's room.

"Ben—" Isabeth rolled her eyes over his face, seeing gold in his copper eyes. "I kind of need my arm...back."

Benny slowly loosened his grasp around her wrist. He stepped back, running his eyes over her and Isabeth wished her t-shirt was a little longer so that it would cover her hips. This was why she didn't wear yoga pants. It revealed too much of her voluptuous frame. She was modest in a look-at-me world.

Benny's eyes scanned back up to Isabeth's face, eyes that scowled at him. "You didn't answer my question." He backed up, lowering himself on his bed. "Why are you here?"

"A sheriff..." She combed her hands through her hair, pulling her tresses to one side of her shoulder. "Washington, come by the stable today." She tucked the smoothed out lump of hair behind her ear. "He says Fulton is missing." She whispered leaning over so he could hear her.

"No one comes down here." Benny gestured to the cracked door. He sat his hands behind him and propped his body up. "It's protocol. Confused wife files a missing person's report. The sheriff looks for said missing person." He looked over at the TV. "Chill."

"Chill." Isabeth croaked. She slapped the door closed and walked to the end of his bed. "This Washington dude is looking for the man I killed. There's nothing to chill about." She fanned her arms erratically around obstructing Benny's view.

"He's pig food. They probably shitted him out already." Benny nonchalantly said. Isabeth gagged at the visualization. Benny pulled his legs on the bed and propped his back against his pillows. "No body. No crime." He trained his eyes on the TV.

Isabeth moved over, blocking the TV entirely. "What? Now!" Benny threw up his arms; "I don't ask for much...just a little me time while I'm watching the game."

Isabeth rolled her eyes while leaning against the brass tailboard, "Where's the car?"

"What car?"

"Fulton's car?"

"At Reggie's Junkyard being stripped for spare parts." Benny gestured for her to move out the way. She moved to the side and collapsed on the couch by the window. He dug under the disheveled mass of blankets and sheets at the end of his bed for the TV remote. He stopped, keeping his eyes on his blankets. "The more you think about, the more you want to talk about. The more you talk about, the higher the chances of getting caught." He sat up with the remote in his hand. "I took care of it and no matter how bad things look..." He looked over at Isabeth with a twisted smile. Her doe eyes were filled with anxiety and fear. "Remember, I took care of it and I'm a Lemen." He nodded. "Burying secrets and making mistakes disappear is what we do." He winked.

Isabeth slowly nodded at his calm demeanor. "Do you mind?" She pointed at one of his blankets as a slight shiver took hold of her body.

Benny unraveled one of the blankets, balled it up and tossed it to Isabeth. She kicked off her shoes, laid her back against the couch's arm and wrapped herself in the blanket. "Tyrell Johnson." She said with a sigh. "Don't tell Malachi..." She glanced over at Benny and her attention prompted him to look at her. "But his fake dad is fine." Benny grimaced. "It's true." She yawned out.     

Is Benny right, "No body, No crime'?