It wasn't until right before the guests started showing up that Korbie marched outside to where I was raising the table umbrellas, and waved the note angrily in my face.
"What's this?"
"I-it's just-,” I stammered. "Where did you get that?" "On Calvin's pillow, where do you think?"
"You weren't supposed to see it." I'd been dreading this day for months. I'd had plenty of time to prepare my apology, but at that moment, words failed me.
Korbie burst into tears. She dragged me across the yard, behind the lilac hedge. I'd never seen her so upset. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Korbie, I'm so sorry." I really didn't know what to say. I felt awful.
"How long have you been together?"
"April."
She wiped her tears away. "You should have told me."
"I know. You’re right. What I did was wrong, and I feel terrible." Korbie sniffled.
"Did you keep it a secret because you thought I'd get mad?"
"No,” I said truthfully. "Calvin wasn't ready to tell people.”
”Do you think he's using you?"
I felt my face turn red. Why did she have to ask me that? On a night when I was already feeling insecure about me and Calvin?
”I don't think so. I don't know,” I said miserably.
"If you had to choose between us, you'd choose me, wouldn't you?"
"Of course,” I said quickly. "You're my best friend."
Korbie dropped her eyes and took my hand. "I don't want to share you with him."
Little did Korbie know, she wouldn't have to share me much longer. When Calvin took off to Stanford, it marked the beginning of the end of us.
I closed the memory and returned my mind to the present. I didn't want to leave Korbie's bed, but Calvin would be making his rounds soon, so I pulled her blankets to cover her shoulders, and shut the door behind me on my way out.
I was halfway to my own bed when my brain registered something not quite right in the corner beside the armoire. The large, human form blended like a shadow, hugging the wall, and before I recovered my breath, he sprang at me, wrestling me flat onto the bed and drowning my cry of alarm with his ice-cold hand.
"Don't scream-it's me, Jude,” he said.
I convulsed harder, showing him that his announcement did little to mollify me. Managing to get my knee up, I aimed for his groin, but fell a few inches short, giving him a hard jab to his thigh.
Jude's gaze fell briefly on my intended mark, and he cocked his brows ironically as he returned his attention to me.
"Close call,” he breathed. To prevent any further risks, he swiftly climbed on top of me, flattening me with his large, wet, and very cold body. However he'd gained access to Idlewilde, he hadn't been inside long; snow clung to his coat, and his dark facial stubble glistened with melting ice.
I protested the crushing weight of his body with an angry exclamation, but with his hand sealing my mouth, I doubted Calvin could have heard it even if he were standing in the hall with his ear pressed to the door. A more likely scenario was that he was downstairs pacing between Idlewilde's front and back doors, oblivious that the danger had already made its way inside.
"Surprised to see me?" Jude asked, bending close to keep his voice from carrying. He smelled the same way I remembered, of goose down, pine sap, and campfire. Only, the last time we'd lain this close, I'd been far more ignorant and therefore willing. "But not half as surprised as I was when I came back to camp this morning to find you gone. You should have told me you were leaving, and saved me the trouble of killing a rabbit for you."
There was a controlled anger in his tone that made me squirm inwardly. I didn't want to believe Jude would hurt me. Then again, he'd killed Lauren Huntsman. He was an expert concealing his true character. Most psychopaths were. It reminded me of neighbors of convicted serial killers, who always exclaimed, "But he was such a nice man!"
"You're not going to scream, Britt,” Jude informed me in that same quiet, lethal tone. "You're going to hear me out. And then you're going to tell me where you put the things you stole from me."
For one moment, my anger overrode my fear, and without thinking, I arched my eyebrows defiantly. Is that what you think, you psychopath? I inwardly raged at him. Take your hand off and I'll scream so loud your ears will snap off!
"Have it your way,” Jude replied to my outraged wriggling. "I'll do the talking, and you can listen. And your friend downstairs can continue to stare stupidly out the living room window. Like I'd march up under the spotlights he's got fixed on the grounds and wave hello."
At his insult to Calvin, I bucked wildly with indignation. I prayed Calvin would come check on me and blow a hole directly between Jude's hateful eyes. But maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was good that Jude underestimated Calvin. I couldn't wait to see the shock on his face when he realized he should never have crossed Calvin. If Jude had come here to kill me now that I knew he'd murdered Lauren Huntsman, it would ignite a fire in Calvin. Jude would see.
"You said you trusted me, then went through my personal belongings. You should have asked me to explain myself before jumping to conclusions and running off,” Jude said, his voice cool and pissed. "Then again, I'm not sure you ever cared. I misjudged you, Britt. Excellent marks for getting me to lower my guard not many get to claim that achievement. You played me hard. Did you intend to go through my stuff all along? Or was your seduction act to ensure I'd help you to Idlewilde? Well, you wasted your time,” he said, his tone growing angrier. "And threw away your self-respect. I told you I'd get you here, and I meant it."
I looked directly in his eyes and jerked my chin in a haughty nod. That's right. I was faking. The kissing was an act. It felt good to think the words at him, to not give him the satisfaction of thinking I ever cared, especially if this was it, the end of my life.
Only, my eyes filled with tears, and this ruined the brazenness of my attack. I tried to turn my head away before he saw, hating the idea of displaying weakness now. I couldn't decide if I was crying for fear of my life, or because Jude's words had ripped open a wound. Last night under the tree wasn't an act. I'd made out with him because I'd wanted to. I'd trusted him. And the betrayal, the truth about who he was, hurt like my heart was being wrenched in two.
"Crying now too? You're a better actor than I guessed,” Jude snorted bitterly. "Cry yourself dry-I'm not letting you go, Britt. Not after I went to the trouble of tracking you down. I'm not leaving until you give me back what you stole. Now, where are they?" he demanded, shaking me roughly. "where are the locket and diary?"