Cheater (Complete)

Chapter Thirty-Eight: I Ran Out Of Ideas

There was a rift growing between me and the rest of the world.

I became absolutely obsessed with Ricky's case. There wasn't a minute that I wasn't thinking about how to put him away.

And that caused some pretty big problems.

For one, Dean had stopped coming to sleep in my room. He went somewhere else in the massive house to find his rest. It bothered me, hurt me, but not enough for me to seek him out when precious time could be used to find cracks in Ricky's armor.

Sam stopped calling me about a week or so after I stopped coming. I couldn't keep seeing him, not when I was neglecting Dean.

Yes, I know that he's a man capable of taking care of himself. He had been able to live without me for quite some time. But I felt horrible that I was so reluctant, so incapable of just fixing things between us. Oh sure, I'd still see him. We lived in the same house after all. We still talked. But it just didn't hold that same intimacy, that same caring as before.

Dean was mad that I was doing this. He didn't think I was doing the right thing. I knew that he cared about me, that he only wanted the best for me.

But I couldn't see past my need for revenge. He was hurting but so was I.

I didn't understand why he couldn't understand why I was doing this. Why I saw that sick bastard, playing nice, to find some way to screw him over.

He just couldn't see it.

He didn't know how disgusted I was at myself, laughing and flirting with Ricky to feed into his deranged fantasy. I needed to. That was the only way he was going to trust me enough to tell me anything of importance.

I knew it would pay off. I knew it.

I was driving toward the prison. It was time to butter up Ricky and I felt sick inside. No matter. It needed to be done.

The guards gave me looks of utter disgust as I passed them. They didn't approve of what I was doing but they didn't know the whole story. I wasn't trying to get Ricky out of jail. I was trying to get him killed or worse. And I was pretty angry that they didn't know better.

How could they possibly think that I was actually willing to be here every week, playing, flirting with such a despicable man?

I gritted my teeth.

They thought I was just another heartless lawyer who didn't care about the crime, only the money. I wanted to shake them.

But what was the point?

They didn't bother coming inside with me. They thought I was scum, not worthy any protection from Ricky if he decided to be violent.

That actually stung a bit.

I pasted a smile on my face as I sat down, choosing a seat close to Ricky. His answering smile rose up like the sun on the horizon.

I felt sick again. How could such a cute, smart guy turn out so horrible? He had been so sweet. Once. Now he was just a madman who deserved nothing better than hell.

An old thought rose up.

If I had never rebuffed his advances, would he have gone crazy? Was I responsible for this?

If I had never met Dean, if I had only known kindness through this man, what would my future have looked like?

Had I been his first victim? How many others were there?

Questions I didn't really want to know the answer to. Only one of those mattered.

I wanted to know how many others there were. I wanted to know if there was any concrete way to prove that he killed Mary.