Page 28 of Heart Stopping
Reluctantly, I stepped away from the window and followed him. All the way to the end of the block before he turned onto a side street.
Keeping my distance, I took the same turn, almost running straight into him.
"Why are you following me?" His dark brown hair was cut short except a small section on the top. That was almost long enough to curl. Eyes almost the same color as his hair demanded answers, but without fear or anger. Instead, there was a need to know. To understand.
"You were following me," I pointed out. "I should be asking you that question."
"I wanted to know where you were going," he said, as if somehow that explained everything.
"Why does Archer Hardwick want to know where I was going?" I cocked my head at him. "Why do you give a shit?"
"Curiosity," he said simply. "Why else does anyone do anything?"
"I can think of a lot of reasons," I said. "I'm not sure curiosity even makes the top ten."
"I saw a post on social media the other day that listed curiosity as the third reason for why people did most things," he said.
I shouldn't have asked, but I couldn't seem to help myself. "What were the top two reasons?"
"The second reason was greed, the first reason was cats." He shrugged one shoulder.
I snorted a laugh. "That sounds like a good reason not to believe everything you see on the Internet."
"Cats aren't a reason for why you do the things you do?" Again, he seemed genuinely interested in the answer.
"I can't say they are," I said. "I haven't had a cat in a long time."
"Maybe it's lack of cats," he said, as if this was somehow a rational conversation. "You want to get a coffee?"
"I could use some caffeine," I said. "There's a café on the corner back there." I jerked my thumb over my shoulder.
He peered around before pulling out his phone and swiping at the screen. "The reviews look good." Decision made, he pushed his phone back into his pocket.
Shaking my head at him, I made my way through the press of people until we slipped into chairs opposite each other, beside the window. Where I could watch people passing and coming in and out. With a wall directly behind me, I could see everyone and everywhere.
Yes, it was paranoia, but I preferred to be ready.
"What brings you to this part of the city?" I propped my elbows on the table and looked over at him.
"The usual," he said easily. "I heard on one of the police channels about a man who broke his daughter's arm during visitation. Figured I'd show him how it felt." He didn't add 'before I kill him.' It was implied, and we both knew it.
We met after I killed my sister's second killer. Archer had come to do the same thing. We'd cleaned the place up in silence and had breakfast together afterwards. We struck up a friendship of sorts. As much as people like us could have friends.
"Have you finished with him?" I asked carefully.
"A little over an hour ago," he said. "In approximately eleven hours, the police will be informed. They'll find him in front of the TV, watching reruns ofCSI."
"How ironic," I said.
Archer cracked a small smile. "I thought so. I saw a meme the other day that said how much a person would hate to die while listening to a singer they didn't like. Because the people who found them would assume they liked them. This guy was more into hard-core porn than he was intoCSI."
"That's funnier than it should be," I said.
"I was going to put his TV on a kids channel, but that seemed wrong." He spooned four sugars into his coffee and gave it a stir. "Not to mention suspicious."
"Right, a guy found in front of his TV wouldn't look suspicious at all," I said sarcastically. From what I knew of Archer and his techniques, the man's death wouldn't be ruled a suicide. More likely, he had his throat cut.
"At least he won't be sullyingSesame Street," Archer said, sucking coffee off his spoon.
