Chapter 30: Femme Fatale

'Awkward'. 'Shy'. 'Socially inept'.

Those were the words I'd have used to describe my neighbor. It was becoming abundantly clear that it had all been a mask. Whatever sat in the chair opposite of me was the real Drew.

He slowly traced abstract designs on the surface of the table while I remained seated back in my chair, my arms folded over my chest while I crossed my ankles on the floor, trying to appear calm even though he seriously had started to creep me out. Little did I know that it was only going to get worse.

"So…" Drew grinned again.

"So…"

"How've you been doing, Alexis, huh?"

"I've been alright. You?"

"I've been doing great."

"You mean 'up until now'?" I indicated the room. "Seems like you've got yourself in a bit of a pickle, if you ask me."

"Well, it seems like you care about my little pickle seeing as you're sitting across from me now."

"You've got something against me being here? You seemed insistent in getting me all to yourself."

"I guess I'm just curious how you knew I was here. Don't tell me I got your spidey-senses tingling. Although, if I did, I'd really like to know."

"You're being interrogated by cops for murdering three women, Drew." I said flatly. "Aren't you even a little worried about what they have on you, if anything?"

"No, I'm not. Frankly, I was going to wait until they ran out of time and just released me back into the wild…so I can go back home. Back to our sweet little cul-de-sac…back to pretending that I don't matter to anyone. Not to that little frail lady that likes to drink tea on her porch, or that snot-nosed fucking little girl and her yuppie father—nice neighbors we have, right?"

"Have you even talked to Mrs. Dole before? She's not frail at all."

"I don't care to get to know anybody on our block, particularly a fucking athletic has-been."

"Because the only person you wanted to get to know was me."

Drew smiled again but this time, it didn't reach his eyes. "Maybe."

"Maybe you want to do that now." I offered gently.

"I don't need to get to know you to know what kind of person you are."

"Is that right?"

"Because I already know everything there is to know about you."

"I find that hard to believe. We've been neighbors for three years and never so much as had a conversation that wasn't about the weather or you offering to bring in my groceries."

"And whose fault is that?" A dark glint in his eye sent a cold, unsettling chill right down my spine. "You barely spared a second to talk to someone like me. All I did was be nice to you."

"Being 'nice' to someone isn't a prerequisite to establishing a relationship. That's just part of not behaving like an asshole."

"Leave it to Alexis Mayville to make a friendship with her sound like a luxury."

"You didn't want to be friends if I remembered our last conversation correctly."

"No, you're right. I wanted you." Drew leaned forward, so I sat back in my chair. "You're the first woman I'd ever felt close to in so long. I bared my soul to you…"

"You made a pass at me. That's not baring your soul."

"I spent months trying to figure out how to do it." He continued as if I hadn't said anything. "Months…a couple of years, actually, if I'm being honest. You know why? Because a guy like me doesn't just walk up to a pretty girl, ask them out, and expect a flustered 'yes'. It takes practice. It takes patience. It takes time to understand who that woman really is, what she's about, what she knows…" He added quietly, "How she likes to be courted…where she likes to be touched."

I stared at him. "It took you three years to ask me for my number. Aside from that, you didn't get to 'know' me, Drew. And if we're being honest, I wasn't interested in getting to know you because you weren't my type."

"What is your type?"

"I—"

"That wasn't a question. I was just being rhetorical." Drew leaned back in his chair, running his fingers over the edge of the table. "You think I don't know your type? You think I don't know anything about you, but I know you. Yeah…I know you better than you know yourself."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Only because you don't know how long I spent getting to know you. The effort, the time, the patience." He licked his lips as he purred, "I got to know you in a way no man ever has. I knew if I said anything like that, it wasn't going to sweep you off your feet…or lift those pretty little skirts you always wear to work."

"So, here's your chance."

"To do what."

"Sweep me off my feet." I stood and sat on the edge of the table, close to him. "Tell me something about myself that I don't already know. You said you 'got to know me' like no one ever has; I wanna know what that's like for myself."

Drew leaned forward. "Oh, I don't think you deserve that."

"Why not?"

"You weren't interested before."

"Maybe I am now."

He snickered, "It's the situation, isn't it?"

"The situation?"

"You were a murder suspect before. You know what it feels like to be on my end." He recounted. "You know what it feels like, sitting in this chair, getting interrogated over and over, knowing they think you're guilty before the conversation has even started."

"Are you guilty?" I asked.

"Maybe. Maybe not. What does it matter to you, anyway?"

"Because I want to know the truth."

"The truth is that I'm not someone you'd look twice at."

"That's most men your age, to be fair." I admitted calmly.

"What do you mean?"

"Why don't you tell me? You said you know my 'type'. Maybe you can figure it out for yourself why I wasn't attracted to you before. Or shall I tell you?" I slid off the table when he didn't opt to say anything at that moment. "You're twice my age, Drew. You're old enough to be my father."

"Some women like that."

"I don't." I said bluntly.

"Every girl is looking for a 'Daddy'."

"I'm not. My father's deeply involved in my life." I crossed my arms, leaning my back against the mirror.

"You mean, 'for now'."

A stone dropped from my chest to the pit of my stomach when Drew uttered those words in such a smug tone.

"Excuse me?"

He looked at me with a readied sneer. "Your father's going to die. Soon. Not by my hand, or yours, or—really—anyone else's. It's just the sorry hand that he's been dealt. But you already know that." He pointed to the mirror. "They've got me in handcuffs, but I'm sure if anyone needs to be in here as a murder suspect, it's cancer. That thing is an asshole."

"How do you know my father…?"

"—Has cancer?" Drew smiled again. "What have we just been talking about, huh? I said I know you. I know stuff about you that your father doesn't know. I know stuff about you that your past boyfriends—and girlfriends—only dreamt of knowing. Like…how you prefer the smell of gasoline and cigarette smoke to lavender or vanilla. Or even…" His breath hitched. "How when you're sitting in your office at the restaurant, taking the edge off with a little whiskey and listening to your earphones, you like getting off to erotica with the office door closed, not realizing that the one to your closet is still unlocked…with yours truly loving every moment."

"You've been stalking me?" I questioned.

"You sound so offended, but you shouldn't be."

"'I shouldn't be'?" I repeated incredulously. "How could anyone not be offended by that?"

"You should be flattered. Honored. That someone took that much time and effort to get to know you, simply based on—"

"—an invasion of privacy isn't the way to get to know someone."

"Yeah, well, it was the best I got seeing as you didn't really give me a choice. Frankly, I didn't mind the intimacy. I got to know a lot about you that day: How you like to be touched, how you sound when you're sexually frustrated. Not to mention the beautiful noises you make when you cum—I replayed that ole gem plenty of times in my head."

I wanted to vomit yet somehow I'd kept my composure. He wanted to unnerve me. He wanted to shake me up, and while it was working, I knew I had to get something out of this too. I needed him to talk about the women he'd murdered.

"You spent that much time getting to know me and yet I don't know anything about you," I said remorsefully.

Drew's smile faltered. "It's a real shame, actually. There's plenty to learn about me."

"Like this side of you I've never seen." I sauntered forward, indicating him.

"You wouldn't have been impressed."

"Well, you didn't give me a chance to be." I said silkily. "Which seems like a miscalculation on your part seeing as how you claim to know my type."

Drew slid his tongue across his teeth and said curiously, "Hmm. You make a point there." He slowly stood to his feet, moving towards me. "Maybe, we can start over…?"

"By being completely honest and open with each other," I suggested.

"I can be those things for you."

"How can I trust that you will?" I moved away from the mirror, sidling to the side of the room, all too aware that Mark and Kerry were still observing us from the other side of the mirror.

"I can show you." Drew said encouragingly.

He stood only a few feet away, holding his hands out in front of him as if he were trying to beckon me closer, but I kept my back against the wall, hoping he'd fall into my trap. He needed to feel in control. He needed to be the one who thought he was manipulating me.

"Show me that I can trust you then." I insisted.

"What do you need me to do."

I said decidedly, "Tell me about the girls."

"I can't do that." Drew muttered.

"Why not?"

"Because if I do, they won't let me stay with you."

"If you don't, I won't stay…with you."

Drew stepped close enough that I could smell the mint from his cologne.

"I-I need something from you first." He said urgently. "I need to know you're with me on this. I need some type of reassurance."

I caressed his face, smiling at him. He looked at me as if he might fold. Our lips were close enough that if they were just a centimeter closer, they'd touch. He seemed to melt into my hand, his cuffed wrists lowering to the hem of my shirt, lifting it just enough so he could run his fingers along the waistband of my skirt and touch my bare skin. I intentionally moaned.

"You like that, don't you," He said smugly.

"You know what I like." I lowered my hands to his jeans, tinkering with his belt. "Tell me what you did to those girls. Tell me how special you made them feel…"

"And then what?" Drew questioned, his voice teetering between hopeful and cynicism. "You'd give yourself to me while the cops just sat by and watched?"

"I can convince them to leave." I persuaded.

"And they'd listen to you?"

"They'd listen to anything I say. They trust me."

"Because your father was a cop."

"Exactly. They'll believe anything I tell them." I whispered into his ear, hearing him groan as I pressed him back against the wall. "I can convince them that you're innocent…they'll believe anything I say."

"I bet they like hearing you talk. I know I do."

"I gotta hear it from you first." I said meekly meeting his eyes with what I hoped to be a rueful gaze, stepping away from him.

Drew looked breathlessly at me as if trying to retrieve his wits about himself. It was his turn to step towards me, and I allowed him to back me up against the table, sitting on it so he stood between my legs.

"Those girls…" He uttered with a surprising shyness. "Those girls didn't mean anything to me."

"You wanted them, though?"

"I wanted them because they reminded me of you."

"How so?" I asked gently. "Tell me how they reminded you of me."

"They were beautiful. Little Ariels who pretended they weren't trying to get swept off their feet, but all of them were looking for their Prince Eric." He slid his hands up one thigh. "All of them…They had soft skin like you. They were funny."

"Did they like you?"

"Not at first." Drew confessed unhappily. "But it's funny how quick those standards lower when they get a little drunk. Yet, yours never do. They really didn't stand a chance, not when they were being compared to someone like you; you set the bar much too high, but it was all I could get so…"

"Did you take them home?" I asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Did you kiss them?"

"Yeah. And they kissed me back." He smiled with the intent of seeming warm, but disgust threatened to make me vomit at any point—I swallowed my inhibitions and hoped I'd maintained my faux infatuation.

"What'd you do when you took them home with you?"

"I made a move."

"Did they like it?"

"Not at first." He said softly, lifting his hands to touch my hair. "It took some persuading, lots of alcohol, but I couldn't…not without imagining them to be you. Even then, I couldn't. They had red hair, but didn't look like you. They were feisty, but they weren't you. I didn't know them…not in the way that I know you."

"They rejected you, didn't they?" I said sympathetically (although I'd never been prouder of my gender).

"Yeah."

"And that made you angry."

He licked his lips as he gritted his teeth: "It was like experiencing that morning all over again. Alexis, I tried."

"You tried what?"

"I tried to be brave. I kept looking. Like you told me to. But in every ginger I found…they just didn't measure up."

He sounded so disappointed, like he'd just been cut from a baseball team after striking out too many times rather than having killed women for the simple fact that they didn't appeal to his fantasy version of me.

"But when they were dead," Drew said as if mystified, "They suddenly became you. And I fucked them in the way I knew you liked being fucked…hard, deep…" His hands lowered back to my thigh, slipping between my legs. "Maybe you want to experience the same thing, huh? Feel what it's like to be understood in every intimate way you could possibly comprehend?"

I took the chain that linked his wrists together and pushed him away, sliding off the table.

"That'd be a great offer, but…" I took the ring out of my blouse pocket and slipped it on my left hand. "But I've already experienced that kind of thing with someone, and I can tell you right now, Drew: You're not him."

Drew frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm engaged." I answered stoically.

"To whom?"

"To a cop."

"I missed my chance?"

"You never had one from the beginning." I said coldly. "You pined after me for three years and when I told you I wasn't interested, you went out and killed three women just so you could re-experience this fucked up fantasy of yours that never had a chance of happening."

Drew grabbed the chair and suddenly shoved it against the door, angling it so the door was irrevocably barricaded. Not a second after, there were fists banging on the door as Mark shouted 'No! Goddamn it!' and Kerry was shouting for help.

"You're the one who told me to keep looking!" Drew said furiously. "I did! And you know what I found—nothing!"

"Because you killed them!" I snapped. "How could you do something like that!"

"They rejected me!"

"They were innocent!"

"This was all a fucking game, wasn't it?" Drew laughed sarcastically. "I must have looked like a goddamn tool, a lovesick puppy who can't—"

"You're not lovesick, Drew." I said callously. "All you are is just sick!"

"You fucking bitch!" Drew shot forward and tackled me to the ground, wrapping his hands around my neck. "I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING! MONTHS! YEARS!"

His thumbs dug into my throat so hard, I started choking, gasping for air as he straddled my stomach and I clawed at his arms and tried gouging out his eyes as I reached for his face.

"Get in there!" Mark shouted from behind the door. "MOVE! NOW!"

"You don't care about anyone…" Drew growled. "You don't care!"

He squeezed tighter.

And tighter.

And—fuck! God, it—I can't breathe!

The door broke open.

"GET OFF HER!"

Gotta catch my breath, oh fuck, gotta catch my breath…

I coughed and sputtered, turning on my stomach as Drew was pulled off. Kerry knelt down beside me, asking me something along the lines if I were okay.

I glanced up in time to see Mark shoving Drew into the wall.

Drew swung at him.

Mark grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face right into the metal table, hard enough that blood had started dripping from his nose.

"If you touch her again," Mark bellowed, undeterred. "If you so much as come near her, I'll fucking kill you—you hear me!"

"Dude, get the fuck off—"

"—Hoffman, stop—"

"—Fuck you, you fucking pigs! I'm glad I killed those fucking women—Glad! Gives me enough practice." Drew wiped his bloody nose with the back of his hand, grinning, pointing at me. "Now I know exactly how I'm going to kill this little cunt when I get the chance."

He sounded so confident, but he flinched when Mark advanced.

Kerry stood between them with an arm stretched out to keep them apart.

"Hoffman, get out. Alexis, you too, get out now. And you!" She glared at Drew. "I'd shut the hell up if I were you, otherwise, I'm going to cut off the camera and the audio, and leave you in this room to sort out your issues."

"I ain't got an issue to sort out, lady—your partner does; he just broke my nose!"

"You just confessed to a triple homicide and multiple counts of stalking, not including the little attempted murder of another cop's fiancée," Kerry said dangerously. "He's not the one you've got to worry about, you little prick. My partner's leaving for the day, but there are at least 10 other cops in this precinct working the graveyard shift who'd love to collect on his behalf, especially once they watch the playback ."

Drew seemed to realize the gravity of the situation.

That possible broken nose was the least of his problems now.