Page 102 of X Marks the Stalker
“Tell me about it. My last boyfriend thought putting the toilet seat down was too much commitment.”
The car swerves as a deer darts across the road. Xander curses, regaining control as the animal bounds into the forest.
“That was close,” I breathe, heart pounding.
“Yes, because explaining a deer collision with a corpse in the trunk would round out this evening nicely,” Xander mutters.
Red and blue lights flash behind us, illuminating the car’s interior in alternating crimson and sapphire.
“Oh fuck,” I whisper.
Chapter 24
Oakley
The police cruiser’s lights paint the interior of our car in alternating flashes of red and blue, and my heart pounds so hard I swear it’s trying to claw its way out of my chest.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “We have a body in the trunk.”
“I’m aware,” Xander says, his voice calm but his right eye twitching. He pulls the car to the shoulder with deliberate precision and puts it in park. “Let me do the talking. Don’t volunteer information. Keep your answers short.”
“What if he wants to search the car?” I whisper, gripping the edges of my seat.
“Then we’ll cross that bridge while it’s collapsing beneath us.” He adjusts the rearview mirror and rolls his shoulders back. “Calm down. You’re not guilty of anything?—”
“Ikilledsomeone!”
“Technically, yes,” Xander replies. “But the key here is acting like you didn’t. Breathe.”
The officer approaches, each deliberate crunch of gravel underfoot magnified by my racing pulse. The flashlight beam cuts through the dark, and I have to fight the urge to crane my neck toward the trunk as if it might sprout a neon sign reading “DEAD GUY INSIDE.”
Xander lowers his window. “Good evening, Officer.”
The cop leans down, flashlight beam jumping from Xander to me. Middle-aged, with the weathered face of someone who’s cataloged too many poor decisions on rural highways.
“License and registration,” he says.
Xander reaches into the glove compartment, pulling out the requested documents. I try not to twitch as the flashlight sweeps over me again, illuminating every bead of sweat on my forehead.
“Is everything alright, Officer?” Xander asks.
“You’ve got a taillight out. Passenger side.”
Relief floods through me. A taillight. That’s all. He doesn’t know about our trunk passenger.
“Apologies for that,” Xander says. “We weren’t aware. I’ll get it fixed first thing in the morning.”
The officer nods but doesn’t step away. His flashlight lingers on me, and I realize I’ve been staring at him for too long. My face must look like guilt personified.
“Ma’am,” he says, his tone shifting. “You alright? You seem a little pale.”
“I’m fine.” I dig into my bag and pull out a half-eaten package of Red Vines. “Long drive. Red Vines?”
Xander shoots me a look that clearly says,What are you doing?
I thrust the bag of candy toward the officer. “Would you like one, Officer? They’re cherry. Or maybe just red flavor? Honestly, I don’t know what they’re supposed to taste like. Do you? People are weirdly divided about Red Vines versus Twizzlers—like, who cares? They’re both just tubes of sugar, right? Anyway, I find sugar helps when I’m stressed. Not that I’m stressed! Why would I be stressed?”
The officer blinks, then tilts his head. “Ma’am, are you sure you’re alright?”
