by Cassia Leo
“You’re just about the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” I say as she walks toward me.
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You were busy today,” she says, eyeing the white wooden swing.
I pat the green weather-resistant cushion. “Take a load off, working woman.”
She chuckles as she sits on the front edge of the seat, but throws the swing off balance, and she almost falls forward onto her knees. She yelps as she manages to grab the porch railing to save herself.
“That’s not how swings work,” I reply, as she spins around and casts a suspicious look in the direction of the seat she just vacated.
Her cheeks are flushed as she retakes a seat next to me, this time scooting all the way back. “Is that how they work? Silly me,” she remarks sarcastically.
She’s definitely more standoffish than she was yesterday, though it’s not hard to be. Yesterday, she was a fiery bombshell, when she wasn’t lying in my arms and engaged in an intimate conversation, mostly about her parents. I’m getting a distinctly colder vibe today.
Something definitely set Izzy off last night, based on what I witnessed in the lake while installing the swing today. If she didn’t overhear my conversation with Eddie, then she’s probably having second thoughts about staying with me. I don’t know which is worse, the former or the latter.
Definitely the latter.
“Are you okay?” she inquires, though her tone has a dark edge to it, almost as if she’s hoping my answer is not affirmative.
I nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. You? How was your day at work?”
She shrugs. “I ended up calling into work. I…I just had a lot on my mind, so I drove around for a while and rescheduled my gyno appointment for later in the morning.”
I reach over and wrap my arm around her soft shoulders. “Sorry,” I say when she flinches away from me for a split second.
“No, it’s okay!” she says, grabbing my hand to hold my arm in place. “Just caught me off-guard.”
I get a sickening feeling in the pit of my belly as she rests her head on my shoulder and snuggles into the crook of my neck. “You sure?”
She chuckles. “Of course,” she replies without hesitation.
I smile and tighten my arm around her as I hear her sniffing my neck. “What was on your mind today?” I ask, rubbing the top of her arm softly.
She’s silent for a long moment before she responds. “My mom. Just thinking about her and wondering if I should visit her and… Honestly, just thinking about all the things I’d say to her if I saw her.”
Recalling the things she told me about her mom last night makes me think of something one of my superiors said to me in boot camp. “When you blame someone for your problems, be sure to blame them for everything,” I begin, ignoring the puff of laughter that comes out of her mouth. “I’m serious. Go ahead and blame your mom for not taking good care of you after your dad died. But that means you also have to blame her for giving you life… Blame her for ignoring you while she was high, but also blame her for believing in you enough to drive you to your music lessons… Always keep your perspective, Iz.”
Fuck!
She tilts her head back and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Always keep my perspective…when blaming people?”
“Always keep your perspective, wiz,” I reiterate, attempting to cover up my previous slip. “Your mom wasn’t all bad, was she?”
I feel some of the tension in her muscles loosen as she tucks her head back into the crook of my neck. “Her boyfriend raped me.”
“What?” I blurt out, loosening my arm and scooting back a bit so I can look her in the eye. “What did you say?”
Her hazel eyes are cast downward as she holds her hands in her lap. “He…” She draws in a deep breath, and her shoulders sink as she lets it out. “He forced himself on me when I came home drunk one night. I… I’d been out late partying with Tiff, and… I caught an Uber home from the bar, ’cause Tiff was too drunk to take me home.” She finally looks up, and the tears in her eyes make me want to kill whoever did this to her. “I stumbled through the front door, and he was right there on the sofa, as usual. He was all tweaked-out on meth. The room was spinning, so I went to the bathroom to throw up. I think I fell asleep with my head on the toilet seat.
“Anyway, I don’t remember much, except a vague memory of him carrying me to my bed and giving me a glass of water. Then I woke up with him on top of me, but I felt even drunker than when I got home. I think he might have given me something, maybe I thought he was giving me an aspirin or something, and I took it. I couldn’t… I couldn’t fight him off. I couldn’t even scream. I just kept…coming in and out of consciousness.”
I think about when she was drunk at the bar about a week ago, and I left a glass of water and aspirin on her coffee table. “Fuck,” I whisper, shaking my head. “That’s…so fucking messed up. I’m sorry I implied you should give your mom another chance.”
She shrugs as she wipes tears from her cheeks. “It’s not like you knew. Besides, that’s good advice, to keep your perspective. Just doesn’t really apply in this case.” She lets out a deep sigh, but this time she sits up straighter. “I didn’t want to admit it was rape. I wanted to believe it was my fault for being that drunk, so I didn’t report it. I just told my mom I wanted to go live with Tiff. She fought me on it. Probably didn’t want to lose her gravy train. But eventually, she gave up. I knew she would.”
I want to pull her into my arms again, but I afraid of pushing myself on her. “Can I hold you?” I ask tentatively.
She smiles, and this time her smile seems genuine. “Yes.”
“Come here,” I beckon her, and she takes it as an invitation to straddle my lap as she lays her head on my shoulder again.
Izzy’s hands are balled up as she tucks them between our chests, like a safety barrier. I carefully fold my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder.
“I think someone’s casing my house,” she whispers, and my heart drops as I realize Santos and I have made her feel unsafe.
“I won’t let anything happen to you again,” I reply fiercely. “Okay?”
She nods. “Okay.”
“I have the suitcase, but there’s no flash drive in there,” I tell Eddie as I glance back at the dark hallway, which leads to my bedroom where Izzy is sound asleep. “She definitely knows something, but I don’t know what,” I continue, remembering how I followed the movement of water in the lake and watched from a distance as Izzy dragged the plastic-wrapped suitcase onto the opposite shore. “It’s possible she’s already seen what’s on the flash drive, and maybe even made copies. I’m going to need you on standby for the moment I find it.”
“Got it. I’m right here in this shitty Days Inn just waiting for your call, compadre,” he replies.
“Good. I’ll check back with you tomorrow.”
I end the call and set the phone down on the kitchen counter, not too far from Izzy’s purse and keys. I consider looking through her bag for the flash drive, but I doubt she would leave it there after all the trouble she went through to hide the suitcase in the lake.
I leave her purse untouched and head back to the bedroom. As I slide under the sheet, Izzy groans softly and grabs my arm to cuddle with it. I sigh as I decide not to move for a while, so I don’t wake her.
In the darkness, my mind wanders to what could possibly be on the flash drive.
Did Izzy copy the contents of the drive?
Has she already sent the files to a journalist?
Is there anything on there that incriminates me?
What will happen if I find the drive and I refuse to kill Izzy?
Images of my sister’s and nieces’ faces flash in my mind. When I’m sure it’s safe, I slide my arm out of Izzy’s grip, and I head back to the kitchen to call Santos.
“What the fuck?” he answers groggily. “It’s 3:30 a.m.”
“I know. We have to talk,” I reply, my heart racing with excitement.
“There’s been a change in plans.”
19. King
Present Day
“It seems you two were really getting to like and trust each other?” Sooner remarks, to which I nod. “Now, let me see if I have this straight. You met Izzy at The Junk Drawer?”
I nod again. “Yes, sir.”
“Okay, so you immediately do the neighborly thing and help her fix some stuff around the house,” he continues, picking up his foam cup of water and putting it down when he realizes it’s empty. “She’s a young, pretty girl, and she just bought this fixer-upper. It’s her first house, so I understand the desire to want to help a girl like that. Maybe get close to her in the process?”
I listen as Sooner reviews Stanley’s notes from the interview as well as his own. He recites the story of Izzy and me like it’s some kind of innocent friendship that turned into more, clearly hoping I’ll stop him mid-sentence and confess I was there to kill Izzy and take the suitcase all along.
When Sooner gets to the part where Izzy confides in me that she was raped by her mother’s boyfriend, he looks confused. “You mean to tell me Izzy felt comfortable telling you she was raped, but she didn’t feel comfortable sharing her real name with you? Is there a reason for that? Maybe something she knew that you’re not sharing with us?”
“She didn’t tell me her real name until the next day,” I reply.
“And now we’re back at the last time you saw Izzy, correct?” Stanley says, clearly annoyed by Sooner’s nice-guy routine. “When you two went hunting in South Mountains?”
“Yes, sir.”
Stanley tilts his head and narrows his eyes at me. “You expect me to believe she told you her real name, and that was the last time you ever saw her?” He waits for me to reply, but continues when he’s met with silence. “And now she’s mysteriously gone missing, leaving her blood all over the crime scene, which just happens to be right next door to your house? And I’m supposed to believe you weren’t involved?”
I continue to look him in the eye without revealing a hint of emotion.
Finally, he shakes his head as he begins to stand from the table. “You are one cold motherfucker,” he says, then without warning, he swipes the back of his hand across the surface of the table, sending my half-full glass of water flying across the room. “You fucking killed her! Admit it!”
I don’t move a single inch as Stanley leans over the table and gets in my face. Meanwhile, Sooner stares at his notes as if nothing is happening.
“We’re going to find your prints or your DNA at that crime scene, and you’re going away for a very fucking long time,” Stanley says, his nose inches from mine as he hovers over me. “Do you understand me, you fucking piece of shit? You and that other army degenerate, Edwin Santos, are going to be bed buddies for life in a federal penitentiary. That sound like fun?”
I wait a moment before I look up into his eyes and smile. “You want to hear about the day we went hunting, or not?”
He seethes in silence for a while, exhaling his nasty coffee breath in my face, before he finally sits back in his chair and nods at Sooner for him to pick up where he left off.
Sooner flashes me a smile that’s dripping with concern. “Tell us about when you two went hunting.”
20. Izzy
August 8th
I wake in Colton’s bed with an emotional hangover. My decision to tell him about the night Gene raped me felt right from the moment it occurred to me while I was out driving yesterday. It accounted for the fact that I was being followed, which meant I was caught lying about going to work. It also solved the mystery of why I was driving around for so long. If I’d been raped and I was just about to get a womanly exam from a possibly-male gynecologist, it would make sense for me to be a bit reticent.
Of course, the main reason I wanted to tell him was to see his reaction.
It’s one thing to keep a straight face as you fuck the pretty girl next door while surveilling her property, all under the guise of helping make her home safe and secure. It’s another thing to comfort her and truly be there for her when she confesses the second worst moment of her life.
And I didn’t detect a single moment of deception when I told Colton I’d been raped. In fact, since I made that confession, I think I’ve finally seen the real Colton, or whatever his real name is.
Last night, when we got in bed, I wanted to mount him straight away. But he insisted he needed to tell me more about himself and how he grew up.
He told me about growing up in Tennessee with an emotionally abusive father who abandoned him, his mom, and his sister when Colton was still in grade school. He talked about how his mom became an alcoholic — the fun kind, but an alcoholic nonetheless. He clearly adored his mother despite her addiction, just the way I did with my father. And he shared the pain of missing her funeral because Colton’s sister blamed him for their father’s abandonment, which they both believed caused their mother’s addiction.
“I sometimes wonder if my dad OD’d on purpose the day he died,” I whispered as I traced circles over his smooth chest. “Do you ever wonder if your mom crashed her car on purpose?”
His breathing was slow and steady in the silent darkness. “All the time.”
As I stare at the empty side of the bed now, I wonder how long Colton has been awake. I wonder who he was talking to on the phone last night when he assumed I was asleep. I wonder if any of this is real.
Maybe I’m waking up in my bed today. Perhaps I went crazy after I stole that money, and Colton is just a figment of my own broken imagination.
I pull the silky gray sheet up to my nose and inhale deeply, smiling at that intoxicatingly familiar scent.
He’s real.
But my smile fades almost instantly as I realize I have to confront Colton today.
Colton looks like he wants to tell me something important or ask me something very serious as he stares at me across the kitchen table. His eyes are locked on mine, and his mouth hangs open slightly as he clutches a steaming black coffee mug in his large hands.
Finally, I can’t take the suspense any longer. “What? You look like you want to ask—”
“Can I take you hunting?” he blurts out.
I look down at the dark amber tea in my mug, trying to take slow breaths as my heart begins to race. “Are you trying to get me alone in the woods with a shotgun so you can get rid of me?” I reply with a chuckle as I look up again.
He doesn’t blink as he stares at me for a long moment again, then shakes his head. “I said I’d protect you. If I’m going to keep that promise, I need to see how good you are with a gun.”
“Oh.” The word comes out of my mouth in a soft puff of air. He’s serious.
I don’t know if this is a ploy to get me alone. Maybe if I go into the woods with him, I’ll be walking into an ambush.
Or maybe, just maybe, he’s telling the truth, and he just wants to know if I can protect myself.
I let out a soft sigh as I realize this is my moment of truth. I have to choose whether or not I can trust Colton.
And as I look into his icy-blue eyes, I know I don’t really have a choice. I have to trust the man I love.
I nod as I swallow my fear. “Okay, I’ll go hunting with you.”
21. King
August 8th
I stare at her for a while before shaking my head. “I said I’d protect you. If I’m going to keep that promise, I need to see how good you are with a gun.”
Her gaze drops again and a soft, “Oh,” falls from her lips.
She’s silent for a long moment, probably trying to figure out if I’m being sincere.
She nods before I can open my mouth. “Okay, I’ll go hunting with you.”
“Really?” I reply without thinking. “I mean, I know it sounds shady as fuck, but I think you’ll understand why it’s so important when we get out there.”
The side of her mouth pulls up in a hesitant smile. “I trust you.”
I reach across the tab
le to grab her hand and pull it toward me, placing a tender kiss on her knuckles. “I don’t know if I deserve your trust yet, but I swear I’ll earn it if it’s the last thing I do.”
She squeezes my hand as her cheeks flush pink. “I’m going across the street to ask Edie if she can dog-sit Steve. I’ll be right back.”
Izzy bolts out of her chair and plants a loud kiss on my cheek. Then she grabs Steve’s bag of dog food and dog bed. I watch as she heads out the front door of my cabin with a spring in her step.
I hope I’m reading her enthusiasm correctly. Because if I’m wrong about Izzy, inviting her to join me in the middle of the woods with a loaded gun and telling her about all the ways I’ve deceived her over the last couple weeks seems like a surefire way to get my dick blown off.
“I don’t usually tell stories about my dad,” I say as I pull my pickup into a dirt clearing at South Mountains Game Land situated inside South Mountains State Park just thirty minutes south of my cabin. “But I need to tell you something he taught me during the one and only time he took me hunting before he split. It happens to be the same lesson I learned in boot camp, but I have to give credit where credit is due.”
She turns in her seat to face me. “I’m all ears.”
“You’re all cute,” I reply, smiling as she shakes her head at my bad joke. “Okay, here’s what you need to know: 1. Point your weapon at the ground when you’re not aiming at game. 2. Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re poised to shoot. 3. Don’t aim at anything you’re not prepared to kill. That last one is important.”
Her brow is furrowed as she considers my instructions. “These rules apply to you too?”
