Live and Let Die (27 page)

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Authors: Bianca Sloane

BOOK: Live and Let Die
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She finally opened the car door and got out. She went through the alley and was about to unlock the front door when she remembered she was in such a hurry to come in from the cold last night, she hadn’t checked the mail. She flipped the top of the box open and grabbed the envelopes shoved inside. There was a thick manila envelope wedged in such a way that a corner of it had caught on a groove at the bottom of the box, ripping the paper.

She looked at the envelope she’d just torn. The whole front with the address on it had been pulled away so she had to reach in and bring the contents out so she could read them.

At first, she frowned.

Then she was confused.

And then she was pissed.

“That fucker,” she said as she shook her head, still not believing what she was seeing. She thumbed through the thick report, reading in disbelief. It was a detailed dossier on her comings and goings for the past two months. From what she wore each day, to every time she’d gone out for lunch or dinner or a work event. The summary had concluded that the subject was not having an affair.

“He hired a detective to follow me,” she said, stunned. “Motherfucker,” she said as she slammed the report down on the hall table. The silver bowl jumped down and clattered against the hardwood floors. She started to pace the hallway, wondering yet again how she’d gotten into this mess.

“That’s what you get for not going to the dentist for fifty years,” she said with a bitter laugh. She looked down at the report for a moment before she snatched it back up. She’d take it to Kinko’s tomorrow and make a copy to take with her to Damon Randall’s office on Monday.

“Well, Phillip,” she said as she tucked the report under her arm and went into her office. “You’ve just made my case for me. Thank you very much.”

She opened a desk drawer and tossed it inside. She’d go to Kinko’s tomorrow, call the locksmith and pack up his shit. All of her relaxation from earlier in the day had vanished. Seeing Jack, the discovery that her husband had her followed… It was almost too much to handle. Tracy pulled the half-full bottle of Riesling from the fridge and plopped down on the couch, exhausted.

EIGHTY-FOUR

F
irst, she heard the doorknob being jiggled. She jumped up from her nap on the couch and grabbed the empty wine bottle, ready to smash it over who ever was about to appear. She remembered her phone was in her purse, which was still sitting next to the hallway table. Phillip’s face emerged, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Hi,” he said as he dropped his keys into his coat pocket.

Tracy lowered the wine bottle. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be back until Wednesday.”

He held his hands out in front of him in a pleading motion. “I know, I know, it’s just that I kept calling you last night and you didn’t answer and I just needed to talk to you.”

“So you drove all the way from Milwaukee.”

“It’s only an hour and a half away. I told you last night, I hated how we left things. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I hopped in the car to come home so we could work things out.”

Tracy heaved a huge, tired sigh, realizing she was pretty buzzed. “Didn’t you tell me you were sitting on a panel tomorrow?”

“I’m skipping it.”

“You know Phillip… there really isn’t anything else to say. I think we both know where this is headed.”

“No… no… ” Fat tears rimmed Phillip’s eyes. “Don’t say that. Anything but that.”

“Phillip, I’ve tried everything and you just keep on with this… crazy behavior… and I’m done. We’re done.”

“I’ll change, I’ll get help, I’ll get the therapy. Whatever you want, I’ll do it, but please, please don’t walk out on me.”

“There’s something else.”

Phillip started to tremble. “Oh… God. There’s someone else, isn’t there? You’re leaving me for another man.”

Tracy leaned back against the couch cushions. “Not according to your detective.”

Phillip gasped and put his hands over his mouth. “How did you find out?” he whispered through his fingers.

“Your little report came here today. The corner of the envelope got caught in the mailbox, ripped the whole front of it off. Front page, plain as day, ‘Surveillance on Tracy Ellis’.” Tracy shook her head. “So stupid to have it sent here, Phillip. So stupid. But I have to thank you. It’s finally in black and white that you need some help.”

Phillip let out a howl and beat his hands against his temples. “They won’t let me get personal mail at work,” he said, that all-too-familiar whimper creeping into his voice. “I told him to wait, wait until I got back into town and I would pick it up.” He banged his palm against the wall. “Damn it,” he whispered.

Tracy shook her head, in shock over Phillip’s delusions. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m filing for divorce.”

Phillip stopped his tirade and looked up at Tracy, his face swabbed in fear. “What?”

Tracy stood up and started to pace. “I was going to wait to tell you this, but I’ve made an appointment with a lawyer first thing Monday.”

“No. I won’t accept that.”

“We both know it’s for the best.”

“Just give me another chance. I’m begging you,” he pled, dissolving into shuddering sobs.

“You can’t stay here tonight. There’s a Best Western on Diversey. I’m sure they have some vacancies. Or better yet, go back to Milwaukee, finish your conference.”

“Tracy, please, I love you. You are my life, my… my reason for living. If you leave me, I won’t have anything, no reason to go on.”

Tracy looked down at the rug, trying to fight back her tears of pity and guilt. “I’m sorry, Phillip. I’m sorry. If you had just… trusted me, trusted in what we had, things could have been so different.”

“They can. We can, I mean, I can. Let’s just take some time and regroup and I’ll work on things, I’ll trust you, I’ll be the man you fell in love with. I swear. I swear.”

Tracy held out her hand. “Please give me all the keys.”

“Tracy, no—”

“Phillip, don’t start this bullshit with me. Text me and tell me where you’re staying, I’ll have a messenger deliver your things.”

Phillip lunged for Tracy in an attempt to take her in his arms. Frightened, Tracy ducked away from his grasp. She lost her footing and with a soft “oh,” tripped back against the hallway table, hitting the back of her head.

And then there was darkness.

EIGHTY-FIVE

T
racy Ellis stood now in that tiny bathroom in a motel somewhere in the United States. She looked over to her right, turned the bathroom light on again, and looked at herself in the mirror.

“Tracy,” she whispered at the woman staring back at her. Numb, she turned and walked into the bedroom and lowered herself onto the lumpy edge of the bed.

She replayed the last three years in her mind. The subtle yet effective brainwashing that Phillip had pulled on her. Dr. Keegan. The hospital. Convincing her she’d committed murder for him. Telling her how much she loved housework, programming her to serve him and locking her in closets if she took a single misstep. Slapping belts across her bottom. Making himself her entire world, shutting her off from everything. Not letting her drive, or pick out her own clothes, making her… oh God. Tracy ran a hand over her hair. Dyeing her brown hair black. She dropped her face into her hands. It was like he had a remote control and was using it to dictate her every move, every thought. Every aspect of her life. He had to have everything just so and she wasn’t allowed to have an opinion at all. Wasn’t allowed to think for herself, do anything at all but clean, clean, clean and be his twenty-four hour a day slave.

No friends.

No family.

No nothing.

Just him.

Only him.

Which was the way he always wanted it.

She thought about the house where she lived: the bleak white walls, the immaculate white carpet, everything so dull.

Just like Phillip.

He’d been so threatened by her energy, her love of life. It both attracted him and repelled him. He had fallen in love with it, but was dismayed when he realized he couldn’t control it.

And so he stole her, made her believe she was dead and remade her into the perfect little woman he’d always wanted.

Feeding her birth control pills to ensure a baby wouldn’t take any of her attention away from him.

What else had he been slipping her?

Tracy didn’t know whether to cry or to scream or to laugh.

The motel room door flew open and Phillip came in holding two greasy brown bags and a holder of soft drinks.

Tracy looked up at him for a moment before she gave him a sweet smile. “Hello dear. What took you so long?”

Phillip’s eyes narrowed. “There was a long line. Took me longer than I had anticipated.” He motioned to the table across the room. “Come now. Let’s eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Phillip stood rooted where he was. “I went out of my way to get you food. Now eat.”

Tracy placed her hands behind her on the bed and leaned back. “Oh, you’re always going out of your way for me, aren’t you, dear?”

Phillip licked his lips. “Yes. I’ve always done a lot for you. You know that.”

Tracy seemed to contemplate this. “Like what?” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Like what?”

“Paula, I really don’t appreciate this tone you’re taking with me. I suppose you are tired and need the rest. Perhaps you should sleep now.” He carried the bags of food in the direction of the table.

“Don’t you mean Tracy?”

Phillip stopped. “What?” he asked without turning around.

Tracy smiled to herself as she picked up on the tremor of terror in his voice. “Don’t you mean… ‘
Tracy,
I don’t appreciate this tone you’re taking with me’?”

Phillip dropped the fast food bags on the table and turned to face her. “You can’t believe the garbage that woman was saying. I told you, she was just trying to confuse you.”

“Oh, you mean Sondra?”

“Yes, Sondra is Tracy’s sister.”

“No. She’s my sister.”

“Paula, I am losing my patience with you.”

Tracy ran her tongue along her teeth and crossed her legs, cupping her hands over one knee. “I wish you would call me by the name my parents gave me… not the one you did.”

“What?”

“Tracy.”

Phillip swallowed. “No.”

“Say it.”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

“Tracy.”

He shook his head, and Tracy could see the tears pooling along the edges of his eyes. “Please.”

“Tracy.”

The tears fell out and splashed against his cheek. “Just let me explain,” he sobbed.

Tracy stood up and walked over to Phillip. “Explain what? That you, you brainwashed me into believing I was someone else? That I had killed someone?”

“You don’t understand—”

“Oh, I understand. You lied to me and kept me good and tight under your thumb.” She was circling him now, like a panther stalking its prey. “Just like you always wanted. Me just so… devoted to you, only thinking about you. No friends, no family, nothing, nothing but you, you, you.”

“I had to.”

“And the clothes, no mirrors, dyeing my hair, all so I would never know what I really looked like, in case I remembered.”

“Tracy—”

Tracy stopped and folded her arms across her chest. “Tracy. How many times did you almost slip and call me by my real name?”

“I didn’t, I—”

“I mean after all, Tracy was dead, because I killed her.” Tracy shook her head in disgust. “You fucking bastard. Because I was so in love with you and had to have you at any and all costs. What was it again? Split her face open with a rock?”

Phillip smashed his hands over his ears. “Stop it.”

Tracy pulled at his arms. “And in order to keep me out of jail, you dumped the body and helped me escape. To keep me safe. And just now, telling me that the FBI was coming to get me? The CIA?” She stopped and laughed. “God, you’re so much better than I ever gave you credit for.”

“You don’t understand—”

“What were you giving me? What were you pumping me full of everyday to make me forget who I was?”

“All I ever gave you were vitamins, I swear.”

Tracy slapped him and he recoiled. She shook her finger in his face. “Don’t you lie to me anymore. I know about the birth control pills and I want to know what else you were giving me.”

Phillip looked at Tracy, his eyes wide. “Tracy, please. Please, don’t do this.”

“What else Phillip?”

He crumbled. “It’s a drug called Propoanol. It causes memory loss.”

Tracy narrowed her eyes at Phillip, struggling to comprehend what he was telling her. “What else have you done to me?” she whispered.

“I loved you. I loved you more than any man could ever love you.”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Lying to me, controlling me—”

“It was better that way. That’s how it should have been all along.”

Tracy clicked her tongue and rubbed her eyes. “Oh, God.”

Phillip dropped his face in his hands, wild sobs shaking his body. “I just wanted you to love me again.” He wiped a hand across his runny nose. “And you did. You… you worshiped me,” he said, his voice tinged with hysteria.

“Paula Pierce—” Tracy stopped and shook her head wryly. “Even changed your last name,” she shook her head. “Paula Pierce worshipped you. Tracy Ellis is disgusted by you and is leaving.”

Tracy turned to walk out the door when Phillip lunged for her, locking himself around her waist. “Please, please don’t leave me. I can’t live without you. I need you.”

Tracy gave him a bitter laugh. “There’s the Phillip I know and remember.”

“I won’t let you go Tracy. I can’t.”

Tracy wrenched around, trying to unscrew his hands from her body. “Let go. I’m leaving and you can’t stop me this time.”

“No,” he said as he grabbed her arm.

“Dammit Phillip, let me go, stop it,” Tracy panted as she fought to get away from him. She was surprised at how strong he was.

Phillip reached around behind him and pulled out the gun.

Tracy stopped struggling as she came face to face with the gaping hole of the pistol.

“I meant what I said. I’ll kill you before I let you walk away from me.”

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