Further pressure on the knife sped up the process significantly.

“Ashley doesn’t love him. One of the things that remained the same throughout it all was the fact that she was trying to get away from him.”

“He picked them up at the park.”

“So? That doesn’t mean she loves the guy. It doesn’t even mean she’s with him now.”

“You said she wasn’t.”

“I thought you were about to kill me. I don’t even remember a lot of what I said.”

The effort being extended not to kill her was growing by the second. Luckily, my psychosis was reserved for a lying duo. Not their fumbling accomplices.

“So she was using him too?”

“To a certain extent. They used each other. He got something out of it. She got something out of it. Madison and I both got something out of it. The whole idea was to make it work for everybody…well, except for you.”

“I noticed.”

“And yeah, there might have been someone else that benefited as well…someone close to Ashley.”

The thought of there being key players I wasn’t aware of had never crossed my mind. I was prepared to handle four. How many were there instead? How many people lined the road to Ashley Davies?

“Do I know him?”

Kyla actually smiled, and unbeknownst to her, its strangeness scared me. Never before had I been a witness to the visual image next to me. A woman bound in rope—helpless and vulnerable, knife at throat—smiling like a pleased child.

I repeated my question, careful not to betray my power with a tone of fear, “Do I know him or what?”

She continued that unnerving smile as she answered, “No, no. I don’t think you do,” she said casually, stilling her feet, “unless you know Rebecca.”

I sent it through the database, but the name didn’t bear any familiarity.

“No, I don’t know her. Who is she?”

She wrung as much pleasure possible out of answering, “Rebecca…Aiden’s wife.”