The Mercenary and the Mortician (The Silent Hollow #1)

3. Cal Walker

(Age ten)

“ Y ou’re not going to get in trouble if you tell the truth,” the detective said. “It was clearly self-defense; we just need to make sure we put the right information in the papers.”

I was sitting in a plastic chair in what I heard the police call a ‘soft room.’ My legs dangled in the air, and I kicked them in agitation as the man questioned me.

This room was much quieter than the rest of the station, and I was grateful they hadn’t made me sit outside in one of those other rooms. The police station was bright, busy, and loud. I had never been anywhere like this before or seen so many people in one place.

This detective seemed nice. He had given me a packet that he told me was full of sweets called ‘fuzzy peaches,’ and they were pretty much the most amazing things I had ever tasted. I still didn’t trust him, though. He had separated me from my sisters, and I didn’t like that. Plus, I was frustrated that he didn’t seem to really be listening to me. No matter how many times I answered the same question, he seemed to keep wanting me to repeat my answer.

The detective’s favorite thing to ask me was if I was sure that Cassandra was the one who had killed our mother.

Instead of answering, I just sighed and looked at my feet.

I didn’t have any shoes. We had never left the house, so there really hadn’t been any need for something like shoes.

Everything was too much. I was shaking and overwhelmed. I just wanted to curl up in a ball and hide from the world.

Staring at my socked feet, I sniffed.

I didn’t want to be here… but I also didn’t want to be where I had come from. Was there somewhere in between? Somewhere safe I could go with my sisters where no one would hurt us?

Suddenly, the door opened, and another policeman walked in. A flash of annoyance crossed the detective’s face at the interruption.

“Someone’s here; he wants to see the kid.”

The detective who’d been interviewing me looked even more annoyed.

“I’ll be right back,” the detective said before stepping out of the room with the other cop. They shut the door behind them, but it didn’t close all the way, and I could hear their muffled conversation through the crack.

“What do you mean? Has the captain approved this?” the detective asked in a low voice.

“He’s from the state; the captain has no say. His name is Damian. Damian Ryker.”

The detective got really quiet after that.

“Alright,” the detective finally said before coming back into the room.

“Callum?” he said softly. I glanced up at him, chewing on my chapped bottom lip, wishing I had some fuzzy peaches left to chew on instead.

“Someone else is going to come talk to you for a bit, okay?”

I shrugged. It didn’t matter to me. I just wanted this to be over.

The detective left, and I went back to staring at my shoeless feet, which dangled under the table.

Soon, the door opened again, and another pair of feet appeared on the other side of the table.

These feet had shoes on. They wore polished dress shoes with fancy pants cuffed neatly around the ankles.

I followed the elegantly dressed legs to find they were attached to an elegantly dressed man.

He was lean but muscled, and though I hadn’t met many people in real life, he was nothing like the men my mother used to bring home.

This man looked like he came from a completely different world than my mother. He was in a suit that had clean lines, and a diamond earring glinted in the lobe of his right ear. His thick, healthy, chestnut brown hair was soft and styled perfectly against his head.

Penetrating, whiskey-colored eyes met mine, and a warm smile curled across lips painted on a perfectly symmetrical, chiseled jaw.

“You must be Callum Walker,” the man said, his voice rolling over me like honey and … something thicker.

He reached out a large masculine hand. I stared at it blankly, not knowing what he wanted me to do with it. He cocked his head to the side at my hesitation. I didn’t understand the look on his face, but I wasn’t sure I liked it.

“When a man offers you a hand, you’re meant to shake it. It’s how you show you’re willing to do business,” he explained. I squinted up at him in confusion.

“B… business?” I whispered, my voice still barely a rasp.

He pinched his pants over his thighs and tugged them up as he crouched down in front of me, getting on my level.

“You have a lot to learn, Callum Walker,” he said, that viscous voice of his making my hair stand on end.

Why did he keep saying my full name like that?

I glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Cassandra and Naomi, but the man reached forward and pinched my chin between his fingers. He jerked my head back to face him.

“Pay attention when I’m speaking to you, Mr. Walker,” he ordered, that hypnotizing voice of his hardening from sweet honey to hard amber.

“Now. Word on the street is your sister slit your momma’s throat. Is that true?”

I eyed this domineering man up and down. Something about him told me he was dangerous, and I needed to be careful what I said to him.

The deep-seated part of me that felt fiercely protective of both Cass and Naomi made me want to keep his attention off of them.

He released my jaw, and I glanced down at my blood-caked T-shirt before meeting his unsettling gaze again.

“What do you think?” I rasped, genuinely curious. The detectives didn’t seem to believe Cass. Did this man believe her? Something told me he wasn’t a detective… He didn’t seem like anyone else who worked here at all…

“It’s hard to say. The knife wound in your mother’s neck looks like it was carved from behind, which aligns with your sister’s story.” He mused, rocking back in his heels. “It would explain why she’s not covered in blood.”

I nodded, biting my lip nervously, waiting to see what else he would say.

“However, it doesn’t explain why you were the one holding the knife,” he said, his eyes flashing with a terrifying sort of delight.

“Did you kill her, Callum? You can tell me if you did. You won’t get in trouble.”

I knew he wanted me to say that I did it. He was looking at me so intensely. I wasn’t sure why, but he wanted me to tell him I had killed her. What would happen to Cass if this commanding man thought she had done it?

“What will happen if I tell you I did it?” I whispered.

A scary smile spread wide across his face, and he patted my knee in a way that I thought was meant to be comforting.

“I will set you and your sisters up in a nice house. You’ll have a caretaker until you turn eighteen, after which you will be given enough money to do whatever it is your little heart desires. The only catch is you will have to come work for me.”

“Work for you?”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. The way they crinkled at the corners reminded me of a picture of a man my mom said was called Santa Claus. I found the print of the character in one of the garbage piles in our living room two winters ago.

“Yes, Mr. Walker.”

I couldn’t seem to look away from his perfectly tanned face.

Work for him.

A sick feeling curled in my gut, and I had a feeling that I wouldn’t like working for him.

“What happens if I tell you my sister did it?” My voice was so quiet this time that I wondered if he would even hear me.

“I will set you and your sisters up in a nice house. You’ll have a caretaker until you turn eighteen, after which you will be given enough money to do whatever it is your little heart desires… but, in this scenario, it’s your sister who comes to work for me.”

A shiver rolled through me, and I shook my head immediately, blood-soaked strands of my hair whipping against the sides of my head with the ferocity of the movement.

“No, no. I did it. I killed her,” I rasped, and the man’s smile widened.

He removed his hand from my knee and held it out in front of me again, flashing perfectly straight, white teeth.

I reached out and placed my hand in his. He squeezed my hand firmly, giving it a firm shake.

His whiskey eyes glittered, and he smiled at me, his face inches away from mine.

“Looking forward to doing business with you, Mr. Walker,” he purred, and I wondered if I had just signed a deal with the devil my mother had always talked so much about.