[ Highest Rank #101 in Mystery/Thriller ]
Time has passed. Things have changed. Isabeth, Benny, and Faith aren't quite the same. They have blood on their hands, a code they honor, and secrets they keep locked away. The Psychopath Maker knows this an...
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Isabeth saw what attracted Faith to him; his strong broad shoulders, the peach fuzz of stubble growing along his chin, and the power he enthused as he instructed the interior designer on what he did and didn't like. Egan dismissed everyone to the back when he caught sight of her standing sternly by the half-setup display case.
Egan dropped the clipboard onto the counter emitting a cloud of wood dust. "This is where the chocolates will be, set out like doughnuts ready to be devoured." He uttered with the word devoured still hanging on his lips. Isabeth frowned. It reminded her of the Big Bad Wolf.
"Why did you dismiss your staff?" Isabeth observed the paint swatches on the walls, the sawdust that scratched under her heels, the tarps covering the chairs and tables scattered disorderly about. "They have a lot of work to do." She played with Teddy's feet as he was strapped into the Baby Bjorn.
Egan ripped the swatches off the back wall, "You have a handsome son."
Isabeth scratched her temple, "Oh, he's not my son." She rubbed Teddy's soft head ignoring the dull ache in her heart and queasy twist that took hold of her stomach.
"He has your nose." Egan picked an old sheet splattered with a rainbow of paint droplets off the floor. He shook the sheet fanning out the toxic, pungent aroma of paint.
Isabeth covered Teddy's face. "I didn't come here to talk about babies." She twisted her tongue in her mouth. She hoped that didn't come across as rude. She didn't mean for it too. Really, she didn't. It was just she didn't talk about Teddy to anyone but Alex, Faith, and her family.
She spent five months at her grandparents' Vermont maple farm taking courses at Harvard via the web thanks to her grandfather's bargaining with the Dean. He bestowed upon the university an endowment of six million and another four bought the silence of the doctor who stayed with Isabeth the last month of her pregnancy ushering Teddy into the world safe and sound.
"Then why did you come here?" He tossed the sheet onto the side table scattered with fabrics and paper samples.
"I wanted to apologize for how I treated you before and express my gratitude to you for being with Faith in her time of need when I couldn't." She held her hand out as if she was giving him a gift.
He walked from behind the counter. "I'm a good judge of character and right now I sense that you're lying."
"I'm a good judge of character too and I'm sensing that you don't know a thing about chocolate other than it coming from cocoa." She smirked.
He grinned devilishly. "I knew you were going to be the hardest one to fool." He scratched his tousled umber mane. "I studied this whole group and you were the only one that possessed the gift of perception." He walked around her like a panther in a cage. "You knew that Alex wasn't a killer. So, what do you think about me?" He folded his arms, squaring his shoulders.
"I think you're The Artist." She covered Teddy's ears regardless of the fact that he was still made cooing sound shy of his one-year birthday. "I think you killed Fiona and framed Alex"
"You think I work for The Psychopath Maker." He threw his head back laughing. "I don't."
"You're not Egan Siegmeister because Egan Siegmeister doesn't exist."
"Yes." He walked over to the tinted windows looking out at the busy street; cars zoomed by and huddles of people bustled down the sidewalk. "He does because I created him."
"You created him." She rocked Teddy, who was becoming fussy growing tired of waiting for his bottle.
Egan kept staring out the window at the little girl failing at yo-yoing. "Yes."
"Then who were you before you created him." She inched closer to him as a delivery truck parked in front of the building casting a shadow over them.
He tapped the window taking in quick, heavy breathes. Then he turned to her, "Luca Wickland." A strong German accent hummed from his lips.
"And who is that?"
"He's a scared little boy." He looked back out the window. "A little boy that ran into the woods after his entire family was burned alive in their ancestral home."
Isabeth walked up to the window, standing across from him. "Why are you here?"
"I'm doing my job." He rubbed his hand along Teddy's soft, honeysuckled scented hair.
"Selling chocolate to the citizens of Evening." She glanced over at the makeshift display case.
"No, keeping someone safe." He read his watch. "And it's time for me to go check-up."
Isabeth grabbed his arm, "Who is The Psychopath Maker?"
He looked down at his hand, the tight grip she held him with. "There once was a woman that destroyed everything to find her daughter."
"You said she was a woman." She gripped his arm a little tighter.
"Yes, she was—until I dug a hole, threw her in it, and set her on fire."
She released his arm. "Does that mean her daughter is The Psychopath Maker?"
He stepped back grabbing the door handle. "There's a family so powerful, they can cover up crimes and make children disappear." He opened the door letting in a breeze that traveled all the in from the coast. "Solve the riddle and you'll have your answer."
