Chapter 8 #2
“Probably. My threat about throwing you in that incinerator wasn’t an empty one.
And it still stands.” He picks up Cecil’s pen from the desk behind him, running his fingers along it, then sets it down and pops open the lid of the donut box.
What he sees inside has him giving me a quick, unimpressed look before he sighs and lowers the lid.
“We have got to do something about your eating habits, little mortician. You cannot survive on sugar and carbs alone.”
If I weren’t so terrified, I’d argue that I absolutely can. But right now my tongue barely works and forming words is harder than it should be…so I just keep staring at him like I’m mute and a little dumb.
A lot dumb, given that I can’t figure out what to do in this situation, no matter how hard my brain works.
“And if threats to you aren’t enough, then I’ll have to make other ones,” Amir sighs. His words are dull and annoyed, like I’m forcing him to come up with something on the spot.
Like I’m the freaking problem.
“If you tell anyone, they die. Cecil will die. Hestia will die. Sheriff Collins will die. Then you will die,” he goes on so fucking casually. “And none of us want that, do we?”
Slowly I shake my head as horror turns my insides cold. How can he just threaten everyone so casually? “Were-were you lying then?” I whisper without thinking.
In response, I get a bemused look. “Lying? About what?”
“Hestia said you and she are really close. You grew up together. Y-you came to the mortuary all the time together. But you’d really kill her? Or Cecil? How?”
The black-haired man, well-dressed in a tailored shirt and pants, watches me for a few moments.
Distracted, he traces the edge of the donut box with the pads of his fingers, and when he turns to glance at the desk, I see a few wisps of hair have fallen from the bun he has it up in.
Somehow it feels wrong for him to be less than perfect, and almost illegal for his hair to do anything he hasn’t expressly permitted it to do.
He seems like someone who enjoys—no, demands—absolute control over everything in his life.
Which is never something I’ve ever aspired to, and never will. That ship has long since sailed for me, and I’m just doing what I can to get by these days. Poorly, if tonight is any indication.
“Yes,” he allows finally. “To all of that. I grew up here. Hestia is my cousin, and we’ve always been close.
Cecil was like an uncle of sorts to all the kids in town, and I’ll always appreciate that.
But I’d kill them because jail is not an option, and I won’t allow you to make it one.
But”—he puts extra emphasis on the end of the word, like closing the book on the subject—“they’re only in danger if you decide to put them there. ”
The words settle uneasily in my stomach, and I look away from him, uncomfortable at the idea that I’m the one threatening the people of Still Pines.
“Your shift is ending soon, is it not?” he asks after letting the silence settle uncomfortably between us again.
“I’m sure you’re relieved for Cecil to be home tomorrow.
” I don’t know how he knows that, but I’m not questioning it.
“You won’t tell anyone. No one you care about will die, and you won’t end up burning alive in the incinerator.
” The threat is delivered with casual efficiency, and I immediately shake my head.
Movement from him has me jerking my head up, and I step back, pressing to the wall behind me as Amir strides closer.
“Good girl,” he says quietly, when he’s invading my space and causing every cell in my body to go into high alert.
“That’s all I ask.” Without warning, he presses my phone into my hand, holding it against my palm until I manage to curl my numb fingers around it.
“What do you want from me?” I’m finally able to whisper. “It’s not like I knew it was you. If you never showed up, then I wouldn’t have anything to tell them.”
“True,” Amir agrees. “But where’s the fun in that?
” His head cocks to the side, and he reaches up with his now free hand to tuck my hair behind my ear.
“Such a pretty little mortician,” he muses aloud.
“With so many secrets and ghosts waiting to be uncovered. You’re like a puzzle just waiting to be strewn about and put together. ”
Being compared to a puzzle shouldn’t feel like a threat, but it absolutely does. My body tenses like there’s something I can do, somewhere I can escape to. Unfortunately for me, all I can do is stand here, pressed to the wall of the embalming room with a killer in front of me.
“I’ll see you soon, Nell.” With that, he steps away. “Don’t do something stupid that makes me have to react in kind.” He delivers the warning with a quick glance from his honey-gold eyes and gives a soft whistle that has both dogs move to his side.
“Which dog was it?” I ask suddenly, the words escaping my lips unbidden. Amir stops and looks at me, brows raised, clearly telling me to clarify. “Which dog did you send after me earlier?”
“Ah.” He glances down. “Umbra.” The female wags her tail. “Why?”
“I have no idea,” I admit. “I just had to ask.”
I swear I see the twitch of a smile on his lips before he turns away again. Without another word, Amir pushes out the door of the loading dock with both dogs and simply disappears.
As if he was never here at all.
I’m left to slide down the wall and sit on the hard tile floor, hand gripped around my phone.
I could call the police, a tiny voice whispers in the back of my mind. They would catch him. Lock him up. He’d never see daylight again and wouldn’t be able to hurt me or anyone else.
But is that really what would happen? A different, meaner voice breathes into my ear.
Or would you end up in the incinerator with Cecil’s and Adele’s bodies burning on either side of you?
The mental picture is so strong and so visceral that a bolt of nausea twists my stomach, causing me to pull in a quick breath of discomfort.
I could call. Adele would believe me. I could convince her to believe me, I could—
I can’t even convince my therapist I’m not crazy. The stark argument hurts in a way that kills any heroic urge in me. Struggling to my feet, I listen to my ears ring as I look around the embalming room, before slowly heading to the body storage.
I have to find the trocar after all.
Things need to be back in their proper places before Cecil gets home.