“The bastard even took an early retirement from his job. He said he was going to move to France and ‘enjoy the fruits of his labor’ even though Otis never took time off for us, but I guess the slut somehow deserved his attentions.”
There were some seriously twisted family dynamics at play, but she had another outstanding issue.
“Oscar, what happened to your family? When I took your case, I tried to get in touch with them, but none of them responded.” Jane had an awful feeling something horrible had happened to them.
“Not long after an incident in high school, which I’m sure you discovered by now since you’ve been digging up the past, my mother and brother moved to my family’s flat in London.”
Jane remembered the passport information. Valentine’s hadn’t been used to travel to either France or the United Kingdom. However, it didn’t mean he hadn’t gone there under an alias. With Valentine’s access to resources, it would’ve been easy for him to obtain a fake passport.
“Did you murder your own family?”
A long, cold silence followed.
Jane waited it out, wondering if he’d hang up on her or answer the question.
“No, Otis and his whore had an accident.”
“What kind of accident?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t there, but from what I gather, they went yachting on the Mediterranean and were never heard from again.” He cackled, and the sound was maniacal, unhinged. “I’m not surprised—the water can be so dangerous.”
Once again, she saw the pictures—no, the trophies—he’d taken of all those young women. Their lifeless bodies blurred beneath the bloody water.
“And what about your brother and mother?”
“When they found out what happened to Otis…well, it couldn’t be helped. Collateral damage and all that. So you see, my father’s whore destroyed my entire family. Not me.”
Valentine didn’t take the blame for any of his actions. In his view, people “made” him kill them. His moral compass was so skewed, concepts like right and wrong were foreign to him.
Byron knew right from wrong, though he chose to break the law. He had his own moral code, of sorts, although at one time, she’d accused him of being just as immoral as Valentine. The comparison was ludicrous—these men were nothing alike.
“I would’ve grown up different if it weren’t for her and my father. Otis betrayed all of us, like you deceived me.”
The hair stood on the back of her neck and along her arms.
“I never realized what a deceitful woman you are, Jane. I’m the man who loves you, who’d do anything for you. Yet you ran off with another—a mobster, no less. You betrayed me.”
Valentine made it sound like she was in a committed relationship with him and she’d been unfaithful. Maybe, in his own mind, he was reliving his father’s infidelity, and he’d cast her in the role of “sinful” woman.
Or maybe he was just nuts.
“Have you slept with him?”
She sat up straighter in the chair. “It’s none of your business.”
“Like I said earlier, you’re mine, even though you’re acting like a disloyal bitch.”
Jane gritted her teeth. “Don’t talk to me like that.” The words were brave, but it was easier to take a stand when he wasn’t in the room with her.
“I’ll speak to you any way I please. Are you in love with him?”
Jane didn’t know what to do. Antagonizing him further seemed like a bad idea. Yet, she couldn’t put up with his verbal abuse either. Placating him was out of the question. She refused to feed into his delusion of being a deceived lover.
“I don’t know.” But that, in itself, told her something. A few days ago, she would’ve said no without any hesitation.
“Hmm, I think it’s the first truthful thing you’ve said all night.”
Strange how Byron praised her honesty and Valentine thought she was lying. Maybe it was because she never said the things he wanted to hear.
“Since I’ve answered your questions, you can answer a few for me. Why Beauregard? I’m handsome, wealthy, and I’ve killed fewer people.”
There was no way to wriggle out of this conversation, and no answer she’d give would possibly suit him.
“Tell me!”
“There’s more to him than I would’ve guessed. He has layers, a depth I hadn’t expected.”
Valentine slammed the phone against something, taking out his rage on an inanimate object. Jane shuddered to think what he would do with her, once he got his hands on her.
“You were supposed to fall in love with me, save me. You were my angel. Mine. I thought you were different, Jane, but no, you’re like the rest of them. All women are pathetic whores, and none of you are worth my time.”