Later that night Isabeth stood in her stable dragging a brush along Kerma's onyx brawny back. Her mind was a million miles away after leaving Aunt Jade's house. Her Aunt's question stuck in her head, would you still love Alex if the world thought he was a psychopath? It was a hard question. There's no way Alex could be a killer.
Yes, at times he was moody, withdrawn, and sarcastic but then there were other times when he was warm, strong, and protective. Those were the times she loved him the most. It was the side he refused to show the world. So, yes maybe she would love Alex if he were a psychopath because she herself was a murderer.
"If you keep brushing that spot he's going to be the first horse with a bald spot," James said as he guided Persia, Faith's rarely visited thoroughbred, back into her stall.
James Fonseca was the twenty-something dark haired, caramel toned stable hand Isabeth hired the day she moved the horses back to Evening.
Isabeth rubbed Kerma's smooth back, "My mind's just elsewhere tonight."
"I know." James grabbed a brush off the bench. "I watched the news. I'm sorry."
"Thanks." Isabeth crushed the stray pieces of hay underneath her chocolate riding boots. "Or no thanks." She exhaled heavily. "I don't know what to say... although I should be used to this."
"Use to what?" James dropped the brush and rubbed his hands around Kerma's thick neck closing the space between him and Isabeth. "Death?"
Isabeth pushed a clump of hair behind her ear revealing the pearls her parents gave her for her sixteenth birthday, "Yes."
"No one can be used to the loss of life." James leaned against Kerma as the horse shifted its weight. "I mean if you have a conscious, which you do." James placed a comforting hand on Isabeth's shoulder. "You are a beautiful person—in and out." His hand slid towards the nape of her neck.
"Am I interrupting?" Alex asked entering the stable cradling a paper bag.
James dropped his hand swallowing hard.
"What are you doing here?" Isabeth turned away from Kerma. James ducked his head massaging Kerma's worked muscles from the ride the animal had earlier.
"Just wanted to check on you," Alex answered. "Bring you some food." He patted the bag. "Make sure you eat something."
"I'm just grooming the horses." Isabeth looked back at Kerma. "I still have to do Speed."
Alex contorted his face looking at James.
"I'll take care of it." James offered. "It is my job." He gently smiled taking the brush and reins from Isabeth.
Alex and Isabeth strolled down the little road encompassed by Quaking Aspens. Alex's black and red Vans kicked up the dirt along the trodden path. He hugged the paper bag with one hand; with the other hand he tried to take Isabeth's hand but she moved it away. There was silence between them, only the rustling of tree branches and neighs from the stable sounded in the still night. Isabeth picked at the collar of her dingy yellow Ralph Lauren Polo shirt in desperate need of a hot bath. Her gait picked up as her gray brick house came into eyesight. She scampered up the porch stairs and reached for the doorknob.
Alex stopped on the stair, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Isabeth released the crystal doorknob.
"Do I have to go over the I know you speech again or will you stop lying?"
Isabeth's hand fell from the doorknob, "You know Faith broke up with Paolo."
"She broke up with Paolo, really! " The words left a sour taste in Alex mouth as they crossed his tongue. "I thought she found her match." Alex sat the bag on the porch floor.
"She didn't tell you?" Isabeth leaned against the porch railing.
Alex shook his head.
"She's looking for a summer fling." Isabeth disclosed. "I hope she doesn't find another Orion."
"We don't speak of the Jamaican, remember." Alex stood next to her looking past his burgundy Bentley Continental GT into the vast Poe Woods remembering what he watched Faith bury yesterday.
The placidity of the vast night quieted them.
"My Aunt thinks you're a psychopath," Isabeth said.
Alex scowled then quickly erased it off his face. "I've been called worse."
"It's not funny." Isabeth bit out, narrowing her eyes at him. "It's not a joke."
"I wasn't joking." His voice turned deeper. "Just stating a fact."
Isabeth chewed on her lip before uttering, "The Psychopath Maker is back."
He whipped his head toward her. "But why kill Fiona? We did what it asked."
"I don't know why?" She tightened her grip on the porch railing. "I don't have all the answers." She breathed in a heavy sorrowful breath. "I just know my friend came back out of the blue then died in the morning...strangled and floating in a pool...while we slept."
"No one in that house killed her," Alex confessed. "I didn't. You didn't. Not even Faith. None of us..."
"Who's going to believe us?" Isabeth huffed taking a step back. "This is not the first time we've been in a crime scene...and Lucas insists it wasn't him that killed Brittany and Kevin so....people are going to assume we're killers."
"I don't know what to say, Isa." He shrugged weakly. "People can say what they want...but no one has spoken to Fiona in what....a year. We don't know where she'd been. Where she was or who she pissed off."
"Then maybe we should find out." Isabeth's gaze softened, the moonlight shining on her face. "Before we all go to jail."
What do you think? Did The Psychopath Maker kill Fiona or was it someone in the house?