Chapter 115

Deidre

“I swear that I did not kill her husband,” he says carefully.

The threat of the unspoken hangs between us, like a cord that tethers us in place. The chess game lays untouched and forgotten. I refuse to blink; to break his stare. But I can’t control my breathing. The harshness of each pounding realization as I take in what he isn’t saying.

And just when I feel the tension is too great, he speaks with a feral clarity that raises the hair on my arms. Each word is carefully enunciated, packing a distinct punch as he speaks through clenched teeth. He grips the sides of his chair, as if he’s trying to control himself from leaving it. “You come into my home, dear step-mother, accusing me of killing a man who helped raise me? Who helped keep this hell-hole of a house from being the prison that it is? No, dear step-mother. I never did that. Would have given three lifetimes of this hell to figure out who did. That’s what I told your husband, too.”

I note the repeated use of the word ‘hus