Page 68 of Liar Byrd
“Why do you do that?” I whisper, not wanting to wake anyone.
“It helps me think.”
I nod even though I don’t understand.
“How’s your wrist?” he asks.
I glance down at it. Nash wrapped an ice pack with a kitchen towel, and I held it against my bruised wrist until Vonn returned to the kitchen. Just like he said, he wasn’t gone long. The bruises are darker now, but that means they’re starting to heal. “It’s okay.”
“Would you tell me if it wasn’t okay?”
I consider it. “Probably not.”
His mouth quirks in a half-smile. “Thought so.”
I watch him for a little longer. “Did you do it?”
I hadn’t asked him before. Nance wandered into the kitchen to start making dinner and shooed Vonn and Makhi out. I hid my bruised wrist and told her I wanted to lie down.
Nance brought me a tray to eat in my room because she’d seen me limping out of the kitchen and thought I should rest my ankle more than I had been. She said nothing about Kit, and I dread the moment she asks if I know why he’s missing.
He slides the chamber home and begins his task again. “I did.”
I don’t dare ask about the body. My mind is still busy processing that this man killed someone for me. “Why?”
He doesn’t slow or pause even as he peeks up at me. “There are enough animals in the world. We don’t need more.”
Again, I nod. But this time, I do understand.
“Does it bother you?” What I mean is, is murder the reason why he’s sitting up in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?
“Him? No.”
So he has killed before, and it bothered him.
“The man in the grocery store said there’s a killer in this house.”
One corner of his mouth lifts in another half-smile. “I was wondering when you would ask.”
I blink. “You wanted me to?”
He inspects the chamber and then empties the bullets from the gun. Six bullets lie side by side, gleaming metallic silver. “Not really. But I expected it. It’s a big question to leave unasked. Too big.”
“Was it you?” I’m not sure what I’ll do if he says yes.
Run? That would be the smart thing to do. And I would have if I had somewhere to run to.
“What would you do if I said yes?”
I study him, considering the question that doesn’t just require a response, but an action as well. He stops taking apart his gun and meets my gaze.
“I don’t know,” I finally admit.
Even though I have a thousand dollars tucked in a white envelope, I still don’t know if I want to leave.
“Wouldn’t it scare you to be in a house with a killer?”
That’s what it comes down to: the devil you know versus the one you don’t.
