Page 72 of A Curse On Black Lake
“It would make you feel better, wouldn’t it?” I ask him.
His tongue dips out over his bottom lip. “Yeah, it would,” he rasps.
I puff out a breath, feeling simultaneously relieved and still angry that this psycho has the gall to invade my life as if he has a right to it.
“Will you let me keep you safe?” he asks.
How can I say no to that? Regardless of my romantic ideas with Killian, it might feel good to be around another soul insteadof in a house all alone. It could be a positive thing — for both of us.
“Okay, I’ll move in with you. But it’s not a forever thing, cowboy. This is until it’s all over.”
He rubs his chin, and I swear I hear him say, “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
Chapter twenty-four
Killian
TheonlyreasonIcan justify any of this is because someone is after her. It makes my stomach churn because whoever was watching her escalated, and if he … I can’t even finish the thought. It’s somewhat alarming to me how angry I am about the situation, but my gut tells me I have to be there to prevent him from getting to her.
While I carry her bags into the house, my mind spins. Something doesn’t make sense, and I can’t put my finger on it.
If the Spirits say everything is tied together, I should believe them. Eliana does, and her Grams said the same as well. But what does that have to do with an old curse this town has forgotten about, and a dead woman on my property? The only thing linking them is a random flower. It’s too coincidental.
It brings me back to Wyatt and what I saw last night. If Wyatt is the one doing this, it would make sense, but that theory falls apart with the flower. How would he know about the significance of it? Or maybe the killer, Wyatt, or someone else decided it was a good signature purely by coincidence.
The Zodiac killer liked to use cyphers because he liked the game. He liked the chase. Ted Bundy didn’t leave a signature per se, but his method of killing women was a signature in and of itself. This killer has a pattern based on the way he kills women, only he adds to it by leaving the flower. I think the intention is what I need to consider. But it still doesn’t answer what it has to do with me, let alone Eliana. Then again, this could all be chance. If that’s the case, then this town really is cursed.
She follows me up the stairs with another bag to her room, and I open the door. It’s clean, maybe a smidge dusty. I would have cleaned it up if I had time but this was a last-minute decision. Plus, I don’t have visitors like my parents used to. Wyatt has hardly been here either. I’m usually alone.
“Here you go. Make it your own. I can help you move things around if you want. My dad’s desk is in the other room. I can move it in here if you need it to work.”
I set her bags at the foot of the bed on the floor.
“You don’t have to do that,” Eliana says as she looks around the room. It’s not big like modern houses are. The farmhouse was built over a hundred years ago. But it’s similar to the rooms in her house.
“This used to be my room before I moved out,” I tell her.
“Oh,” she says, looking around the room.
It’s painted white with a few little pictures hanging on the walls. The full-size bed is covered with a floral quilt. “My mom made that quilt years before she died,” I say, pointing to it.
“It’s pretty.”
Two small side tables sit on either side of the bed, and there’s no closet, so there’s a wardrobe tucked against the wall. Everything sits on an old rug that covers most of the hardwood floors, and the room is connected to a Jack and Jill bathroom. “And we won’t have to share a bathroom because I’m in the master with my own, down the hall.”
“That’s nice,” she says nervously, while still looking around, as if she’s trying to avoid me.
“What do you think?” I ask, suddenly nervous that it’s not good enough for her.
“Thank you.”
“Good, good.” I take a breath and shove my hands in my pockets. “Now is probably not the time for this, but I figure you should know, particularly because of today. I did a stakeout on Wyatt last night. Since we both had that weird feeling, I thought it would be smart.”
“Did you see anything?” she asks, finally meeting my eyes.
I brush a hand through my hair. “Nope, he cooked dinner, watched TV, and then went to bed. I stayed there for a few hours after the lights went off and it was quiet. But that could mean anything.”
“You haven’t slept at all, have you?” she asks.
