Chapter 21 Rowan
ROWAN
Ican’t stop thinking about my night with Abi.
It fills me with a hot, surging fire, and trying to get through my work at the hotel is practically impossible.
I’ll be in the middle of some mundane task—ordering more linens, meeting with Julia about making the weekly staff schedules—and the memory of that night will wash over me.
How sweet Abi tasted.
How warm her mouth was as she swallowed my cock.
How she sighed when I kissed her.
It’s better than remembering my kills, and those have certainly bothered me to distraction before. But not like finally having her, my Abi, in any meaningful way.
I continue my vigil of her house at night, slipping around the perimeter with all my senses on alert.
I don’t go to her again, as much as I want to.
As magical as it was to taste her like that, to feel her mouth on me, it was also unfamiliar.
Strange. This thing that happened, this interloper attacking her, had interrupted a conversation between the two of us.
And the truth is, I want to continue that conversation.
So while I keep watch on Abi’s house at night, I use the free time I have during the day to plan my next kill.
This feels much more comfortable than everything else that’s happened in the past week.
It’s something I’ve done before dozens of times, and I’ve always liked the methodical nature of it.
There’s something quiet and meditative about researching a kill’s location and deciding on a method. Finding the right victim.
Every kill requires me to put on a new face.
The last one was the easiest; I did it as Rowan Hanover, since it had to happen at the hotel.
But for this kill, I just need to take up mini golf, and that’s easy, too, since I can walk to Neptune’s Adventure from both my beach cottage and my office at the motel.
I plan my first visit for a Tuesday afternoon, when it will be less likely to be busy. Things at the hotel are calm, and I leave Julia in charge. Then I walk down the beach, just out of reach of the water.
It’s the peak of the tourist season, but Olivia Pearce’s murder has had a noticeable effect.
There are fewer people out—fewer kids building sandcastles, fewer adults drinking beers and roasting themselves as they watch the waves roll in.
We’re down at the hotel, too, although I’m not terribly worried about the finances. We have the wiggle room.
I can just see the big fiberglass pirate ship that marks the entrance of Neptune’s Adventure when I hear someone shout my name.
And then I smell it. Lilacs and lemons and orchids.
Abi.
She’s walking barefoot across the sand toward me, a pair of jogging shoes dangling from one hand. She smiles, the wind blowing her dark hair across her face, and I’m paralyzed in place, seeing her out in the sunlight.
“Hey,” she says. “I didn’t expect to see you out here.”
Abi usually saves her beach walks for the off-season, and it’s one of my favorite things, watching her from my office window during the cool winter months. Or maybe it’s just too crowded this time of year for me to pick up on her.
“Yeah, I was just—” I glance over at the entrance to Neptune’s Adventure and think about the afternoon we got coffee together. It was so normal, wasn’t it? “Just going to play a round of mini golf.”
Abi gives a delighted laugh. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” I force myself to look at her, reminding myself that she doesn’t know the truth about Rowan Hanover. Something like jealousy twists in my belly, but it’s a jealousy of myself. “It’s, ah, a new hobby. What are you doing on the beach?”
Abi sighs and squints out at the water. “Going for a walk,” she says. “Things have been… weird, lately. And I needed to clear my head.”
A part of me wants to tear down all my carefully constructed walls and take her right here, the way I did at the funeral parlor the other night. I wonder if she would realize the truth as Rowan Hanover licks her orgasm.
The idea’s enticing. But also stupid. Still, I don’t want to walk away from her, now that she’s here. I don’t want to let her go.
“You want to play with me?”
The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it. I know I’m not asking her to play with me-me, but with Rowan Hanover. Still, her eyes light up, and she smiles. A big, dazzling smile that she’s never given my killing face.
“You don’t mind?” she says. “I wouldn’t want to impose—“
“You’re not imposing,” I say quickly, although my head is whirring like a hurricane. This is not how I’m supposed to do things. I’m not playing eighteen rounds at Neptune’s Adventure for fun but to research the next beat of my conversation with this woman.
But god, she looks so beautiful, standing there in the wind, her hair whipping around. And maybe I want to have a real conversation with her. Even as Rowan Hanover.
“Then I’d love to.” She smiles at me again. “I’ve never even been to that place before. Isn’t that funny? I’ve hardly done any of the tourist stuff around here, though.”
“Yeah, me neither.” We drift toward the golf course. My whole body is on high alert. My brain is screaming at me that I’m a fool. That she’ll recognize me—my voice, my eyes. Something. And then all my carefully constructed plans will blow with the wind.
But I also don’t want to miss another second with her. And besides, as long as she’s with me, then I know she’s safe.
We walk up to the ticket counter, and the teenager in the back looks at us, bored. Even with Abi at my side, my brain still clicks through the checklist of preparing for a kill. There’s the scene to set, the accident to emulate. And, of course, the victim, the centerpiece of the whole operation.
I glance sideways at Abi, wondering if she can feel my thoughts the way I can feel hers. But she just meets my glance and smiles a little, her cheeks pink.
“How many?” the teenager drawls, like we’ve irritated him. If he were older, he might make a good victim. And if Abi hadn’t seen his face.
Shit. Abi. My little detective might make the link between Rowan Hanover and me, won’t she? This was a mistake. A big, big mistake.
But it’s also too late, because Abi’s saying, “Two, please,” and pulling her credit card out of the little purse she has slung over her shoulder.
I panic, briefly. Partially because I may have laid the groundwork for her connecting my two identities, and partially because I feel like I’m the one who’s supposed to pay.
“I’ve got it,” Abi says suddenly, almost like she really can read my mind. “Since I forced myself on you and all.”
“You didn’t. Really.”
She’s already sliding her card across the counter. The teenager looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
“I know. It was just a joke.” Her eyes gleam mischievously, which makes my heart flip around. “But you also paid for my coffee last time. Figured it was my turn.”
The teenager gives her back her card along with a couple of bright orange mini golf clubs. “Can grab your score pads there.” He tilts his head vaguely. “Or download our app.”
Abi grins brightly at me as she hands over the club. “Want me to download the app?”
“We don’t need to keep score.” As soon as I say it, I wonder if it’s the wrong thing. “I mean, unless you want to.”
She shrugs. “That’s fine with me. I’m not really competitive.”
We go over to the first hole, which is guarded by an oversized fiberglass tortoise. It’s simple, with no moving parts. I’m gonna need moving parts for my kill. I’m thinking a mechanical accident.
Abi, though, lets out a little laugh of delight. “Look at that,” she says. “A big-ass turtle.”
“This entire course is big-ass animals,” I say, which makes Abi laugh. My chest constricts. Rowan Hanover can make her laugh. But I can’t.
I let Abi go first, like a gentleman, and then we settle into the game.
It’s nice out here. Hot, yes, but the wind is up, and it blows Abi’s scent over me as we move from one hole to the next.
Here’s one with a giant ant. Here’s one with a glittering fish.
Here’s one with an enormous, pearly pink conch shell where you have to shoot the golf ball into its spiraled center and out the other side.
This one causes Abi an endless stream of consternation. There’s only a narrow slot where the ball can fit, and she keeps missing it by a few centimeters. “Oh my god!” she shouts on her fifth try. “It’s the wind!”
“You want me to do it for you?” I peer around the corner of the shell, where I’m tapping my own ball toward the hole. Abi just huffs, blowing her hair out of her face.
“No,” she says darkly. “It’s a matter of honor.”
I chuckle at that. She squares up her shoulders like she’s a golfer on TV, switching her gaze back and forth between the ball and the shell. Then she pulls back, takes a deep breath, and swings.
The ball slams against the shell’s wall and ricochets off the green.
“Motherfucker!” Abi shouts, then promptly slaps her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Sorry,” she stages-whispers to me. “Did you see where my ball went?”
“Yeah, it’s in the palms there.” I step off the green and over to a big spray of leaves bobbing gently in the wind. A couple of men are on the other side of the plant bed, laughing raucously. I can smell the tequila and lime on them. Tourists.
They glance over at me as I fumble around for the ball. One of them says something, although I’m not paying enough attention to hear. The other laughs, mutters something back. Look at me again.
No. Not at me. Past me. At Abi.
Rage flares in my chest, and I remember, with a sudden, vicious clarity, why I’m here. I’ve been having fun with Abi—trailing alongside her, cheering her on when she makes a hole, laughing with her when she misses one. But I’d forgotten that I’m actually here to plan my next kill.
I remember now.