Page 79 of Haven't Killed in Years
Natalie sprinted up the stairs and into her apartment, racing to the window. She couldn’t see anything. The house was pitch black. She would have to take enough comfort in his car parked below.
She ripped off her shirt and had barely changed into dry clothes when there was a knock at the door.
Wesley stood on the small landing.Was he just sitting in the dark waiting? Waiting for me?
“Hey,” he said. “I saw you hit the garbage cans. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” He raised his eyebrows, skeptical and not afraid of letting her know that.
Natalie’s face contorted.Why did he say it like that?
He sighed, teeming with pity. “I don’t think you’ve been okay for a very long time.”
“Why would you say that?” she asked, suddenly defensive.
His eyes wandered over her shoulder. “Can I come in?”
“No,” Natalie spat back.
He held up his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“It’s fine.” She didn’t need someone who felt sorry for her. Or worse, someone paying enough attention to feel sorry for her.
“You know,” said Wesley, “I got quite sick from that soup you made me.”
“Really?” Natalie said, worried about her acting skills.
“Yeah, in case you saved any for yourself. You probably want to trash it.” Wesley looked away, taking a moment in his own head before letting out an odd little laugh. “I really think you should let me in.”
The hairs on Natalie’s neck raised. She had developed a good sense over the years of when someone was intending to bother her.
“It’s not what you think,” he said. “Whatever it is you’re thinking. I just want to talk. I haven’t been completely honest with you.” He paused for a reaction he wasn’t going to get yet. “The story I’m working on…it’s not about corporate fraud. I’m sorry I lied to you. But you’ll understand if you just let me—”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, genuinely unable to keep up with what he was trying to say.
“I need to talk to you about Gwen Tanner.”
Every fiber of Natalie’s being told her to shove him down the stairs for uttering Gwen’s name. Instead, she took two steps back and allowed him inside.
Forty-Three
Sixteen years ago
Natalie burst back intoher room, forgetting for a moment to be quiet. It didn’t matter; Gwen was already awake.
“Where were you?” asked Gwen, sitting up in her bed.
“I’m sorry,” said Natalie, afraid to tell her, afraid Gwen would be upset with her.
“What is it?” Gwen asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” Natalie repeated, shaking her head, working herself up.
“Natalie! It’s okay,” Gwen insisted. “Come here.”
Natalie did as instructed and plodded over to Gwen’s bed. Gwen moved to the wall to allow Natalie to crawl in.
