Page 26 of Winter
“I’m sorry, Inca; I didn’t mean to scare you like that. Thank you for the beer.” He took a long drink. Inca sat down opposite him and waited. He drained the beer and sighed.
“You need to be more careful, is all. There’s bad people around. Pretty girl like you on her own.” He shook his head.
Inca tried not to smile. “You are very sweet, Hunter. But I have Boomer.”
He looked at her in the eye. “Dog ain’t no protection against a knife or a bullet.”
Inca swallowed. He had a point. “Hunter, I know everyone on the peninsula. Who’d come over from the mainland just to … there’s a lot of other people between me and … after all.” She smiled and pointed out the window. “The next land that way is Japan. I’m okay. I promise.”
“Olly would want me to look out for you.”
“I know, and don’t think I don’t appreciate you. I do. You’re my family, Hunter; don’t ever forget that. I’m sorry about earlier. I promise I will be more careful. I’ll keep Boomer in the house and keep the door locked. I won’t answer the door after dark unless I know the person. Is that okay?” Inca got up to get him another beer and to pour herself a glass of milk.
“Not all bad people are strangers.” Hunter muttered and she turned, frowning. Hunter looked away from her, down into his drink. She sat down again.
“Hunter, who are you talking about?”
He didn’t answer, but Inca had already guessed.
“Hunter, are you talking about Tommaso?”
He nodded. She leaned over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it.
“Hunter, why would Tommaso want to hurt me?”
“I don’t trust him.”
Inca gave a frustrated laugh. “Have you been talking to Olly?”
“Olly’s a good man. Smart guy. I’ve seen him watching you.”
“You’ve seen Olly watching me?”
“No. Him. Tommaso. He watches you. He’s said things.”
“What things, Hunter?”
Hunter flushed, shifted in his chair. He didn’t look her in the eye. “Says he could have you if he wanted you.”
Inca laughed. “Hunter … he and I are seeing each other. He knows it’s not serious.”
Hunter’s voice was small. “I don’t think so.”
Inca didn’t know what to say. “I’m sure you’re wrong, Hunter. He doesn’t mean any harm. He’s a nice guy.”
Boomer started barking again and Hunter was up. He yanked the door open, keeping Boomer from running out. He passed the dog to Inca and ran out.
“Keep him in; lock the door. Don’t open it again, even for me.”
Inca did as she was told and went to the window. Hunter’s torch bobbed into the darkness and disappeared. She sat at the kitchen table, waiting for some news or for Hunter to call through the door. Just before midnight, she couldn’t keep her eyes open and crawled into bed. She glanced at her phone just as she saw Hunter text her to say all was well. Inca smiled, hugged Boomer to her, and fell asleep.
At home, Olly showered quickly and dressed. He’d enjoyed his run that morning with the fresh cold Washington air in his lungs. His smile soon faded when the familiar scene of police tape and CSI officers filled the screen. Another murder. This time in her home.
“Jesus Christ.” He tried to think back over the serial killings in the US over the last few years - TheMilwaukee North Side Stranglingsbetween ’86 and’04; Anthony Kirkland’s campaign in Cincinnati in the late 00’s; theCalifornia Bride Murdersin 2014. Something about that last one snagged at something in his memory. He flicked on his laptop and waited for the browser to load. He turned the television up as he waited.
“Victim was stabbed repeatedly in the abdomen and, reports say, disemboweled.”
Olly felt the usual nausea rise in his throat. He tappedBride Murders in Californiainto the search engine and hit return. A sense of familiarity made the hairs on his neck stand up.
