Page 20 of Haunting the Hunter
I swear to God one of these days I’m going to hide Jack’s controller if he keeps putting his hands on my shit. I finally find it in a drawer that IknowI didn’t leave it in, and make my way back outside to the tree line. Calli may have thought that she saw a shadow, but I know damn well that’s not the scariest thing that could be out in these woods. If I made any slipups on my mission, there’s a chance we could be traced back to this place.
I follow the path outside the woods, keeping an eye out for any signs of movement. I move toward the spot Calli pointed to earlier, then stop. I can hear a faint rustling about ten feet into the trees and turn on the spotlight, pointing it in the direction of the noise. I dig my feet in and prepare for a fight.
A fucking deer pops its head up and immediately books it deeper into the forest.
Goddamn it, Calli…
I shake my head and make my way back to the garage, tossing the spotlight onto the workshop bench. I look over my latest project, the birdhouse Calli wants for her garden in the backyard. It’s not much, but that garden is the only sense of freedom I’ve been able to grant her. So I do my best to help her spruce it up with my woodworking. Keeps my mind busy, too.
Might as well take this opportunity to pack a bag, I think, pulling out my duffel from under the bench. I begin opening all of my drawers, examining every weapon at my disposal while imagining all the things I could do to Allen when I finally get ahold of him.
I carefully and methodically pack every weapon, along with some rope and morphine.
I lift the duffel over my shoulder, pick up a canister of gasoline, and walk it over to my truck, setting the canister in the back. I open the passenger door and toss the bag inside. The only pleasure I’ll be receiving from this is knowing that the man I’m doing this to deserves it.
I’m not completely fucked in the head.
Yet.
Maybe Calli has a point. But even if she does, it won’t make a difference. I have to do this. I owe her that much. She deserves a chance to have a normal life. As normal as she can, anyway. She might be a little crazy, but who the fuck am I to talk?
And who could blame her? Our parents kept her completely isolated, and now I’m doing the same. She is desperately trying to hold on to whatever her imagination comes up with. Maybe she’s gone stir-crazy. I’ve kept her here to try to keep her safe. But she is losing it, and she’s old enough now that she should be afforded a bit of freedom. Just a bit.
Jack has all the materials to make fake IDs—he pretty frequently has to make them for me. That would at least give me some peace of mind. It’s been long enough that people shouldn’t recognize her.
I walk into the office to find Jack sitting at his computer.
“Yo, I’m just finishing up that perimeter check. We’re all clear,” he says, not looking up.
“I’m aware,” I say, my voice flat. “Bambi scared her.”
“You serious?” he asks with a smile. “Bless her heart… that’s adorable.” He chuckles to himself.
I pull my brows together and change the subject.
“I want to make her a new ID. You think you can manage that before I leave?”
He rolls his chair toward me, a surprised look on his face.
“Uh, yeah. What made you want to do that?”
“She needs to get the fuck out of the house. Not too far, but going into town should be fine,” I say, shrugging.
“Hell yeah. I have the template left over from your last one. Should only take me a few hours. I got you,” he says, a little too pleased.
“Take her out, do something fun. Just get her out of her fucking head.”
“Can do, boss,” he says, fingers working the keyboard.
“Just don’t have too much fun. Keep her safe. And just to put this out there: I’m not above cutting your dick off, shoving it down your throat, and sewing your lips shut.”
Jack pauses for a moment, not acknowledging my threat.
That’s fine.
He knows I mean it.
It’s always been a concern of mine, those two, but despite his stalker-like nature and weak spot for women in general, he’s been trustworthy and is damn good at what he does.
