The Simp Next Door

IV Distrust and Desire

Daniel watched the door swing shut behind Claire feeling a heavy, uncomfortable ache deep inside his chest.

"You look so serious today Daniel." She said.

Her small hand glided up his arm, her soft fingers curling around his forearm through his canvas jacket.

She is so small and fragile, yet every time Claire looks at her he feels like he is missing a vital piece of a much larger puzzle.

"I am just thinking about work down at the shop." He said.

His hand gently reached down to cover her fingers, squeezing them lightly.

He wants to believe every word that comes out of her mouth, but why does his heart race with fear every time she smiles like that?

"Let me buy you lunch at the Bistro on Main." She said.

Her lips curved into a sweet and breathtaking smile as she brushed a stray strand of dark hair behind her delicate ear.

She looks at him as if he is her entire world, and he hates himself for ever entertaining a single dark thought about her.

The noon sun spilled through to the floor through the windows of a Bistro on Main. It casted a warm amber glow across the white tablecloths. Vanessa sat across from Daniel delicately slicing into a pear and spinach salad.

"I am so glad you pulled me away from the gallery for lunch Daniel." She said.

Her fingers reached across the white linen, her warm skin lightly resting over his knuckles.

Look at her sitting here in the sunlight, completely defenceless, while he lets sterile court documents turn him into a paranoid fool.

"I am just really glad I am sitting here with you Vanessa." He said.

His thumb caressed the soft back of her hand, his eyes locking onto hers with unwavering intensity.

She was forced into that settlement in Ridgefield, she had to be, and he is going to protect her no matter what dark secrets are chasing her.

"You are so good to me Daniel." She said.

Her head tilted slightly to the side as her soft blue eyes sparkled under the warm restaurant lights.

He would tear this entire town apart just to keep that look on her face.

She leaned back to take a sip of her iced tea. Her gaze drifting past his left shoulder toward the bustling street outside. For a fraction of a second her smooth forehead creased and her soft expression flattening into something icy and calculating. It was sharp before instantly melting back into warm affection the moment her eyes met his again.

An hour later, Daniel walked out of the restaurant and made a brief detour toward the town square while Vanessa headed back to Vance and Sterling. He needed fresh air to clear his head, but as he crossed the corner of Fourth Street, he noticed Detective Miller standing outside the local diner, talking intently to an elderly man in a heavy flannel coat.

Daniel stayed back behind the fabric awning of the hardware store, keeping his eyes fixed on them in the shadows. Detective Miller held up a clear photograph of a dark canvas work jacket. It was the exact jacket Daniel wore to the auto repair shop every single day. Mr. Henderson, the neighbor from across the street, nodded his head vigorously, pointing toward the tree line near Vanessa's property and making sweeping hand gestures.

Miller took quick notes on his digital pad, shook the old man's hand, and walked briskly back toward his dark patrol car.

Daniel stood frozen in the cool shade. The detectives were no longer just asking general routine questions about Marcus Vance's missing truck. They were building a solid, airtight circumstantial timeline around him. They believed he had walked out of Vanessa's house in his work jacket at three thirty in the morning and took Marcus's truck down to the creek. They believe he disposed of the man who had been harassing the woman he loved.

By eight o’clock that evening the sky had turned a deep bruised purple. Daniel stood in Vanessa’s living room, the quiet space smelling faintly of dried lavender and sweet vanilla.

Vanessa stood by her kitchen island slowly pouring two glasses of white wine.

"You look so tense tonight Daniel." She said.

Her small hand offered him a crystal glass while her dark eyelashes casted long delicate shadows across her pale cheeks.

He is standing right on the edge of a cliff, and he needs to hear her tell him that none of it is true.

Daniel set the glass down on the cold granite counter with a soft click.

"Why did you not tell me you were a certified master gemologist Vanessa?" He said.

His hand reached out to grasp her upper arms gently, his eyes searching every inch of her quiet face.

Please give him a reason to believe you, please tell him there is a logical explanation for all of it.

Vanessa froze completely in place.

The delicate and timid mask she had worn so effortlessly for three months did not shatter immediately; instead, it peeled away like layers of cracking ice. The soft warmth in her eyes vanished and was replaced by a cold penetrating stillness that made every tiny hair on Daniel's arms stand up.

"Where did you read about Ridgefield Daniel?" She said.

Her head tilted back slowly, her voice completely devoid of the gentle raspy tremor she always used when speaking to him.

That is not the voice of the woman who cried on his shoulder last night.

"It does not matter where I read about it." He said.

His fingers tightened slightly against the soft fabric of her sweater, his chest heaving as his heart battered against his ribs.

He is looking right at a stranger, but he still cannot stop himself from loving her.

"You really wanted to be my hero did you not Daniel?" She said.

Her slender fingers reached up and softly patted his cheek with a faint and pitying smile curving her lips.

She looks at him like a predator looks at something trapped in a net.

"Did you send those wire transfers from my bank account last night Vanessa?" He said.

His gaze never left her unblinking eyes, his voice trembling under the crushing weight of his realization.

Tell him he is wrong, tell him he is losing his mind.

"You drank all of the chamomile tea I brewed for you last night Daniel." She said.

Her pale face stepped closer to his chest, her soft breath brushing against his chin in the dim light.

She poisoned him, she put something in his drink while he was sitting right on her couch.

"You were so tired and so foggy after two in the morning." She said.

Her hand slid down to rest flat over his hammering heart, her voice dripping with artificial empathy.

She did not just use him to feel safe. She had picked him out long before she ever moved next door.

"You do not really remember what you did between two in the morning and five in the morning do you Daniel?" She said.

Her thumb rubbed a small circle against his chest, her eyes wide, dark, and utterly merciless.

She has Marcus's truck keys, she has his phone messages, and she is going to put him in prison for a murder she committed.