Page 112 of Only the Devil
What have I done?
Chapter 36
Daisy
The coldness of Thompson’s eyes terrifies–it’s the stuff of horror flicks. It’s like he isn’t there, like his soul left his body.
“Please don’t,” but the words are useless, and I know it.
On the ground, Jake’s fingers twitch.
He’s alive.
Unconscious, but alive.
Buy time.
“Was this your plan all along?”
“I’m not stupid,” he snaps. “Bullet wounds require investigation.”
The blood splatter coating my clothes contradicts Thompson, but I won’t argue with a gun-wielding psychopath.
“What’d you do to Jake? Did you shoot him?”
“Nah. Took a taser to him. Never owned a taser before, but then I discovered Jake’s little heart condition. Figured it might be a handy thing to have. Although tonight’s not exactly going to plan. Bastard didn’t go all the way down with a taser. Had to knock him out. Hard fucking head.”
“Why?”
“Someone couldn’t leave well enough alone. Caused a shitstorm.”
“Me?” I put on my softest look, one that I hope reminds Thompson of the brownies I baked. “I’m sorry.”
I’m absolutely not sorry, but I’m light on experience on what to say when a gun’s pointed at your head.
“It’s not your fault, Daze.” He draws out my shortened name the way Jake does, but the gravel in Thompson’s voice feels like a spider crawling on my skin. “Phillip shouldn’t have asked you here. That’s the fuck up. But his question was a good one, and there are people who need to know. Did he get it right? Are you the one who tampered with the presentation?”
He wants to know if someone else is out there, if he needs to hunt another victim. He suspects, but he wants confirmation.
“If there’s someone else out there, would you kill them with poison or a bullet?”
“If you were listening, Daze, I just told you. The name of the game is to not get caught.”
“How long have you been playing this game?”
Jake’s in the shadows; I can’t see his face, but his hand is moving.
I look away, locking eyes with Thompson, needing to keep his attention. If he sees Jake waking, he might kill him.
And there’s another person with us — I heard footsteps.
“What are you waiting on?” A man steps forward. He’s a stranger; someone I’ve never seen. Unlike Thompson, his goggles cover his eyes instead of dangling from his neck, which means he can probably see Jake clearly.
“Who are you?”
My voice comes out shrill.
I need his eyes on me.
