Dear Tressi [✓]

42

Tressi stared blankly at him. "What do you mean Edda didn't know that you hadn't lied? Lied about what?"

She could see excitement cross her husband's features. But it wasn't like his usual smile, that made him irresistibly handsome—this maniac excitement scared her. It chilled her.

And at that moment, she knew.

She knew he was going to kill her too.

"Lied about what?" he repeated, throwing his head back and laughing. "My name, of course! I never lied to Edda about my name. But she thought I had. That's why she didn't write my name. That's why she tried writing 'Letter' because it had other information about me. But she was wrong. She knew my name all along. Imagine if she'd written it, Tress. It would've all been over." He laughed once again—harder this time—holding his stomach.

He wasn't in his senses. He was utterly mad. Tressi sat frozen on the wooden steps, looking at the man she'd married. Who was going to save her now? She didn't see how she was going to get out of this. For some unfathomable reason, he was willing to talk. She needed time to think of an escape. She needed to keep him talking.

"Why did she think you'd lied about your name?" she asked, hoping he'd take the bait.

He did. "Because during the fight, she heard Lila call me Ricky." He smiled widely as if he was a toddler proudly presenting his first art.

"You're Ricky? But how? Dax knew Ricky, he would have recognised you." Her hand skimmed along the edges of her T-shirt. If only she could lift it up without him noticing...

"Well, of course I wasn't the real Ricky. I just told Lila that was my name."

They had already talked about everything of importance. Only minor details remained. But she would keep him talking until she figured out a way out of this.

"Why did you lie to Lila about your name?" Tressi asked. Her hand now had a proper grasp on the edge of the T-shirt with her fingers resting naturally.

"I wasn't gonna give her my real name, of course! What if Edda found out?" Des asked incredulously.

"But why call yourself Ricky?"

Des's face now had a nasty smile on it. Tressi had never seen anything like that before on his features. "That was payback."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm Ricky's cousin. I helped him with setting up the shop and negotiating the deal with Vil, but he screwed me over. I lost a lot of money. So for anything remotely shady that I did, I started using his name. Even when working with the fences, that smuggled stolen jewellery."

"You framed him," Tressi said in a horrified whisper.

Des grinned. It could have been a trick of the light but the dull, twilight sun that peeked through the mist, glinted oddly off his teeth, making him appear almost wolfish. "That's why I got so pissed when I found out that Daxton Lepoci had been telling you about Ricky, and more importantly, about 'Ricky's cousin.' I couldn't go around killing everybody who gave you information now, could I?" he asked reasonably.

"You were never jealous," Tressi muttered.

"Oh, I knew you'd never cheat on me, Tress. I just wanted you to stop talking to him," he said, very matter-of-fact.

Tressi could feel a cold, trickling sensation down her spine as his words sunk in—I couldn't go around killing everybody who gave you information.

"You killed Patty." Iron cords wound themselves around her lungs, constricting them. "How?" she choked out.

"Tress, you don't look so good. Are you sure you're up for this?" Des asked, concern seeping into his voice. He reached out once more to touch her, but she shrank back again, cowering against the wooden railing.