Read Online Justice by Faye Kellerman - Free Book Online Page A

breathe slowly. When his bow made contact with the strings, I closed my eyes.
    The room filled with a sound so pure and sacred, it brought an ache to my heart, chills. Because he wasn’t playing music. He was praying. Soft, plaintive pleas of repentance answered by the all-encompassing embraceof God’s mercy. When he had finished, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t move. Emotion had paralyzed me.
    “Do you like it?” he asked me.
    I opened my eyes and swallowed dryly. “It’s…” Tears had been running down my cheeks. “It’s positively…sublime.”
    “Like you.”
    “Hardly.”
    “Look at me, Terry.”
    I did.
    He said, “What Beethoven did for Elise, that’s what I want to do for you. I want to immortalize you.”
    My heart stood still. I couldn’t answer him.
    “That’s why I wrote this for you; that’s why I draw you.” He placed his cello on its side rib and came over to me. His lips brushed my forehead, his touch as gentle and spiritual as baptismal waters. “You are holy to me. Our relationship is holy to me. Do you understand?”
    I nodded.
    He handed me the title page. “Keep it. And whenever you doubt me, look at this. Because it’s the way I really feel. I love you, Teresa. More than you ever could know.” He paused. “Will you let me draw you tonight? Completely?”
    I dried my eyes and nodded yes.
    He whispered, “Go into my bedroom, take off your clothes, and put on one of my robes. I’ll be there in a minute, all right?”
    I got up and did what he asked of me. He came back in, set up for around five minutes, then turned to look at me. I regarded his eyes. I was looking for a window to his soul. All I got was leaded glass. I cleared my throat. “You want me to take the robe off now?”
    He nodded yes.
    Slowly I untied the belt and let the garment fall from my shoulders. “Should I sit the same as last time?”
    He shook his head no. “I want something different tonight.”
    “Different?”
    “I want to tie you up.”
    Involuntarily, my fingers wrapped around my throat. “ What ?”
    “I want to tie you up.”
    The room went silent. I started shivering. “ Why ?”
    He extended his arms out from his shoulders and slumped his head to the side. “You are my artistic vision of Our Lord Jesus on the cross. I can’t crucify you. So this is the next best thing.”
    I was too stunned to talk.
    “Say no if you’re squeamish.”
    “Chris, I’m not squeamish—”
    “So do it.” He came over to the bed and draped his robe around my shoulders. “Please, please, Terry. It’s very important to me.”
    I looked at the ceiling. “You are absolutely the most wonderful, but weirdest boy I have ever met in my entire life.”
    He smiled sheepishly. “Call it artistic temperament.” His eyes met mine. He lowered his head and kissed my feet. “I’m begging you. Please ?”
    I fell backward onto his mattress. “I must be crazy—”
    “You’ll do it?”
    “Yes, I’ll do it.”
    Without ceremony, Chris got up from the bed, went to his closet, and pulled out a dozen neckties. I felt my heart beating wildly. I stuttered out, “You’ve done this before?”
    He didn’t answer.
    “Just swear to me that you’re not a serial killer.”
    “I’m not a serial killer. Lie down.” He waited, I waited. Gently, he pushed down on my shoulders. “Please.”
    As I lay on his bed, he pulled off the robe, took myright arm, and secured it to his headboard with one of his ties. Then he did the left. I felt as powerless as a deboned chicken. I wiggled my fingers.
    “Too tight?” he asked.
    “No…I have circulation…barely.”
    “Your limbs start to tingle, let me know. I don’t want to hurt you.”
    “Well, that’s comforting.”
    His face became flat. “Terry, I could snap your neck as easily as taking a breath. I don’t want to do nasty things to you. I draw you as an expression of my love for you. Do you believe me?”
    “Of course, but—”
    “Good. Then cross