Page 13 of Haven't Killed in Years
“Not engaged,” I teased again, but in a curt way that discouraged follow-up.
“Fair enough.” He smiled. “So what do you do?”
Ugh, no, not the work small talk. I was losing control of the ship. “Human Capital Management. Helping recruit the best and brightest, then trying to keep them happy. I’m just an associate though. Basically I print things and then hand them out.”
“Not very green.” He grinned.
“Well, I also send a lot of emails.”
Dominic laughed and I took the opportunity to pivot. “Needless to say, I wasn’t at Edgar Valley for work.”
“Yeah, I would assume they frown on criminal records.”
“Definitely.” I nodded. “I was visiting an old neighbor. In there for robbery. Nothing violent. I try to go a couple of times a year. He used to fix things in my apartment for free and I guess it feels like the right thing to do.” A hundred percent bullshit, but a dead-end story without much intrigue, and I spewed it all out before he could form any questions.
“That’s really nice of you. I don’t think I’d be that nice.”
“Your kindness is reserved for serial killers only, then?”
He laughed again, and just like that, we were back on course.
“What do you two talk about anyway?” I asked.
“Well, that’s confidential,” he said, and I glared at him. “What?” He grinned.
“You can tell mesomething. Be vague. You don’t have to tell me where the bodies are buried.” I took another sip. “I mean that figuratively, of course.”
“Of course.” He smirked. “We just talk.”
“Too vague.”
“He’s helping me write a book.”
“Like a biography?”
“Kind of. More about what makes Abel Haggerty tick.”
“Are you trying to get into his head?” I was skeptical of the business plan here.
“I try. He tells me stories and I put myself there in that place. I think about what I would do and what would have to be different for me to do what he did. I want readers to be able to relate.”
“And what would have to be different?”
“I haven’t figured it out yet.” He reached up and tugged at his hair.
“Tell me one of the stories,” I said, absorbing his energy.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah…”
“Gwen!” Porter’s hands landed on my shoulders and I jumped ten feet in the air.
“Oh my God, what?” I turned to look at him.
“Guess who’s here.”
“Who?” I asked.This better be good.
