Chapter 18
Lincoln
Six Years Ago
Quinnly’s parents have been gone for a while now, and since then Cicero’s been more present with her. I know he’s aware I’m watching, the way he moves so I can see her, how he observes me while also teaching her.
It’s unnerving.
He should have put a stop to my obsession years ago, but instead he’s stoking the flames. I’m unsure which of us will burn first.
If he continues down this road, always pushing me into Quinnly’s space, I don’t know what might happen.
“You know, Paps,” Quinnly starts, like she does every time she spews something random. “I know you’re… not happy with me, but no one is missing this ballbag.”
He stares down at the body he found lying on the kitchen floor only a few minutes ago. I watched Quinnly subdue him, fold him up into the bed of Paps’s truck and drag him into the house.
“That isn’t why I’m upset and you know it. You don’t bring them home,” he rumbles.
She rolls her eyes–the way you’d expect of a teenager, not a twenty-five year old woman–and points to the refrigerator door.
She’s never going to forgive him for that one.
“You’re never getting over that, are you?” He asks, mimicking my thoughts.
“Nope,” she snaps, popping the ‘p’. “Besides, like I said, no one is looking for him, and he’s a meanie.”
Paps rubs his forehead and looks at his feet where the ‘meanie’ is slowly coming back to consciousness. His sigh is heavy, loaded with indecision. “Take him in, but this is the last time, Quinnly.”
She yips in delight, or as close as she gets, and opens the heavy door leading to the dank walkway underground. It’s an odd sort of work up Cicero has down there. The earth’s dug in such a way that no one would ever know there’s a whole cave under his house.
Cicero follows her in, but makes her do all the work, and for someone who refuses to do any sort of physical activity, she’s pretty strong. Slipping into the house I wait a few minutes, listening for Naomi to make sure I don’t surprise her while waiting, before following them down.
“You can’t bring them home,” I hear Cicero’s voice from the entrance. Shutting the door behind me, I’m plunged into darkness. My hands feel across the wall, and my feet carry me silently closer.
“Ooooookay,” Quinnly says, “then why do you have the garden on the other end? Huh?”
She’s got a point, and though I know that Cicero uses this area for more than disposal, he’s not going to be able to win this argument with her. She’s got her mind set, there is no other explanation.
“Just take care of your mess,” he says, storming back my way. He pauses close enough to reach out and touch me, but doesn’t. “See to it that she doesn’t dally.”
I don’t respond, don’t have to. He knows I will.
There’s a moment of silence, then the rattle of chains, and the telltale click of locks sliding into place. I don’t know why she even bothered, she’s not keeping him alive long enough to need them.
Me: What shall you do to him, Menace?
There’s a laugh that travels down the tunnel.
Menace: Come find out