Chapter 14 #2
“Oh.” Scott seems to think about that before getting up and walking to the fridge with Roscoe trailing his every move. “Does he want to be your boyfriend?”
If only Scott knew that the person we’re talking about is the person who murdered his sister in front of me.
But he doesn’t, and hopefully he never will.
“I have no idea what he wants,” I answer at last, fingers back to tapping out an incessant, nervous rhythm on the counter while Scott pours himself a glass of apple juice.
“Heave ho, bud,” I murmur, picking up Scott from the sofa where he’s passed out on Roscoe. He barely stirs, and only enough to turn and wrap his arms around my neck. We’ve done this before, after all. He knows the routine just as well as me. “You need anything before bed?”
My nephew shakes his head against my shoulder as I carry him up the stairs in a feat so great I could clearly be a pro weightlifter.
Or a firefighter, if I wasn’t terrified of running into a burning building.
I manage not to trip on the stairs or Roscoe, and finally I get Scott in his bed.
He falls like a sack of potatoes, and I’m grateful tonight he’d decided to change into his pajamas early, to settle in for a night of movie watching and slushies.
But alas, Scott had only made it through one movie and half of another instead of his proclaimed six movies before bed.
“Good night, Scott,” I murmur with a soft sigh.
He doesn’t answer, but I’m happy that he’s out like a light.
“Sleep well, Roscoe.” I cup the Doberman’s chin as he settles on Scott’s legs and grin when he gives a soft woof.
Making my way downstairs means keeping an ear out for anything in the house, and I can’t help feeling more on edge and ill at ease lately with the murders that have been happening in Hayden Fields. How can I not be uneasy, after all, when it’s so close to home?
Literally close to home this morning when the cops had zoomed by and stopped just two streets over.
“You’re fine, Winnie,” I tell myself dryly.
With a quick stop in the kitchen for Minxy and a bag of chocolate-covered raisins.
When I’m back on the sofa with the cat curled up on my lap and a mouthful of chocolate, I change the movie from something animated and kid-friendly to whatever spooky movie I find first. I’ve never been much of a horror movie watcher, exactly, but I won’t say no.
Especially when it’s clear this movie is from the eighties and really not that scary. Or well acted.
My phone ringing makes Minxy glare up at me, and I frown apologetically as I dig my phone out from under her. “You could move,” I tell her, even as she does her best to spread out over more of my legs. For a Siamese she is pretty big, though Lou swears she’s just big boned and she’s not fat.
Even though we all know she’s totally fat.
“Hello?” I answer before I even think to look at the number. It’s probably Lou, and frankly I’m surprised she’s waited so long to call. I’d expected it earlier, given what’s happened in town.
“Winnie.” The voice on the other end of the line is definitely not Lou’s. I place it instantly, and my muscles tense.
“Most people start with ‘hi’, you know,” I murmur to Cassian, eyes fixed on the television even though I’m not paying any attention to whatever is playing.
“Yeah, I suppose.” He sounds amused more than anything. “You’re babysitting your nephew.” It isn’t a question, and the words send a tingle up my spine.
“If you say shit like that, you sound like a stalker.” My fingers stroke over Minxy’s ears, and I can’t help feeling like she’s judging me for this conversation. But I just frown at her, making a face at the large cat.
“I am a stalker. Your stalker, actually. Doesn’t that make you feel special?”
“It certainly makes me feel something.” I pause, unsure of what to say for a few moments. “Is everything okay?”
“I just wanted to hear your voice. That’s all. I’d been hoping to see you tonight but…” He laughs dryly. “I think maybe your nephew might not like it if he wakes up and I’m in his house. So we’ll take a raincheck.”
God, he’s definitely watching me. I can’t help looking around the room, anxious, though all I see from the glow of the television is Lou’s pristine, empty house.
It seems like everywhere I go, I usually find an empty house.
Whether it be Lou’s house when she’s out on a trip with Dan, Cass’s old house that I’d gone back to only once.
Or my house, which has felt empty and full of ghosts at the same time since the moment my finger pulled the trigger on his gun.
“Winnie?” Cassian’s voice drags me out of my thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“I’m always okay.”
“Well, you don’t always have to be.” The words are unexpected and soft. Sweet, in a way. For a murderer. “Maybe you could be not okay for once, and let me help you.”
I have no idea what to say to that. “I…I always make sure I’m okay.” That’s the only thing that comes out of my mouth and my eyes stay fixed on the television while my insides twist with unfamiliar feelings and a strange kind of nervousness.
“You should let me try it. See if I can make you feel okay as well.” There’s a teasing note in his words, and I find I hang on every single one. God, either I’m desperate or just a problem.
Maybe both.
“I’ll let you get back to your movie, Winnie.” He doesn’t seem to mind that I haven’t been able to say a damn thing in the past thirty seconds. “And maybe get better candy. Chocolate covered raisins? By choice?”
“Wait—” I look down at the box in my hand. “How do you know—”
“Good night, Winnie. Like I said…I just wanted to hear your voice tonight.” He doesn’t let me ask a question, or at least stumble to try to find the one I want an answer for. Instead he hangs up, leaving me with my phone to my ear and the cat glaring at me in judgment.
“Oh, yeah?” I set my phone on the end table and settle back against the armrest. “You try talking to him or telling him to leave or…literally anything. He’s difficult, okay?
” And a murderer. But I don’t need to say that part out loud.
Minxy resettles on my lap, stretching out over my stomach when I lay down on the couch, and it’s not long before the combination of an eighties slasher and her purrs put me to sleep.