by Noir, Mila
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked, coming to stand by Taylor.
“Yeah, it’s…well. It’s what we thought. Nick and the other Saints were responsible for the Coulsons’ death. Nick was driving and ran them off the road. The others helped cover it up,” she said, sighing.
“That’s good, right? I mean, not for the Coulsons, but for us,” he said.
“Yes, but it still doesn’t explain why the Saints themselves have been killed. I still think it’s Nick, but he had to have faked his own death,” she said.
“Wait, what? You think Nick de Marco is still alive?” he asked.
“Yeah. And I think he killed those girls back in high school. Something kept nagging at me since I got back. I knew I’d seen him with both of them, but you know he was always going after different girls. But after they died, I saw him put something in his locker. It was only a few down from mine. I didn’t really know what it was, but then I remembered. It was their friendship necklace and bracelet set. They’d given them to each other at school. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I was too caught up in my own stuff. But then the ‘prank’ happened. I forgot about everything else after that. And Nick made that happen. He’d always hated me, but that was…something else. I think he wanted to hurt me, but I also think he knew I’d seen it.”
“Jesus Christ, Taylor. That’s a hell of a theory,” Anton said, rubbing his face.
“Yeah, but think about it. Nick was always up to something. And he really hated me. Like, a lot. I think he sent me that clipping to get me up here. To tie up every loose end left,” Taylor said.
“After a decade? And faking his own death?” he said.
“He’s crazy. And maybe he’s been keeping tabs on me. It wouldn’t be that hard to find out where I work. My byline is no secret. He might have known I was coming up here. As for the death, he’s covered up murder before. And it doesn’t matter anyway, he’s just going to keep doing it unless someone stops him. We have to draw him out,” she said.
“He’s capable of anything,” Anton said, touching her cheek.
“I know, but we have to do something, don’t we?” she said.
“Does it really matter?” he asked.
“Well, yeah. Otherwise, all this does is prove they were awful, but not that you didn’t have anything to do with these other deaths,” she said.
“Okay, good point.” Anton sighed and sat across from her. He looked tired.
“We should rest,” she said, suddenly beyond exhausted. She led the way up to her old room. The bed was a twin, but they’d manage.
They lay together, Anton against her back, blanket pulled up over them. She’d never had anyone in her bed at home, and it felt odd at first. But then his warmth was around her and she turned to put her face to his chest. And she fell asleep, feeling safe for the first time in too long.
***
Anton lay awake for a while, holding Taylor, wondering what the hell they were going to do. It seemed ridiculous and impossible, that he was holding Taylor Harlow and running from the law, not to mention a potentially deranged killer…and he was…happy? For the first time in forever. Being with her made him happy, no matter what else was happening. He didn’t really know how to process the feeling, it was so alien and strange. After everything they’d been through, all the things he’d done and said, and this current mess, she should be miles away. Instead she curled up to his chest, trusting him. It was humbling. He would not let her down again.
***
Taylor woke to the smell of something burning. She felt confused and sluggish. Her head ached and her throat felt thick. Anton was shaking her, pulling her up. It was too warm.
When she opened her eyes, she saw thick black smoke curling into the room from the door frame. Anton patted the doorknob and winced, snatching his hand back.
“Fire must be close. The hallway is out. We need another way out of the house,” he said. She shook her head, trying to get it clear. She started to cough.
“Window. Bit of a drop to the porch roof. Then down,” she said, coughing more. Her lungs felt heavy.
Anton pushed at the window, which was jammed at first. So he used his elbow and broke it, pushing glass away. He looked out and yelled “Fire!” They couldn’t hear sirens, so they had no idea how close or far they might be. They had to get out.
Taylor was confused. How had the fire alarms in the house not gone off? Why did she feel stupid, like she’d been drugged? No time. Have to get out.
Anton was pulling her toward the window, but she stopped him.
“Files. Need them,” she said, pushing to get them. Which was when the door suddenly crashed in, flames licking everywhere. The heat was unbelievable. She dropped the file and it started to smoke.
“Shit!”
“Forget it! Let’s get out of here!” Anton yelled. Taylor stood frozen for a second, then ran, grabbed the papers which were smoking, then ran back to the window. Anton helped her shimmy out and she dropped to the roof. He followed. But they weren’t safe yet.
The fire was already taking the first floor, and the porch was smoking. The roof wouldn’t hold for long.
They’d have to jump.
Anton looked at her, finally hearing sirens. They couldn’t be caught there. He knew it. She knew it. Their eyes met. Their hands clasped.
And they jumped.
The ground hit them both with a jolt that they felt in their teeth. They rolled, grateful they weren’t in flames. Anton reached out for her, but Taylor was kneeling, staring towards the back of the house. She clutched the papers to her chest.
The wind had been knocked pretty heavily out of her, but Taylor had to see if the house could be saved.
What she saw when she looked up was a house-shaped inferno. It was all fire and smoke. Whatever had been used to start it had made the fire hungry, and it was devouring her childhood home greedily. Tears started down her face and a rage started to burn inside her, like she was burning along with the house.
And then she saw movement that was not the fire out of the corner of her eye. Someone in dark clothes was moving quickly from the back, where he’d been watching. He turned, and she thought she saw a face she recognized. Their eyes locked, and then he was gone.
She tried to get up, but her legs still hurt from the jump, and she started to hack and cough from the smoke. Then the sound of the sirens got closer, and she realized they needed to get out of sight. There was no way they could explain this, or what Anton, a fugitive, was doing there.
“Come on. We have to go,” she said, pulling at his arm.
“Where?” he coughed.
“Not far. A friend. We have to be quick.”
As they ran, a figure from the woods watched them go with avid, hateful eyes. It would not make the same mistake again.
Part 4: Something Wicked
Taylor stared at the smoking remains of her childhood home, shaking and bruised. Anton had gotten them out just in time. They were watching the show from Susan’s house, hiding from the police. Susan had already given a statement, irritating the cops with what she called “old lady rambling” and they’d left her alone pretty quick.
“They couldn’t find their asses with both hands,” Susan muttered, pouring whiskey into teacups. “Drink up, you two. It’ll fortify you.”
“Or lay us out,” said Anton, grinning. Susan smiled at him.
“Oh, a big guy like you can handle it.” Susan sat back and sipped at hers delicately.
Taylor was still looking out the window through a slit in the curtain, a knitted afghan around her shoulders. She felt cold and hot at the same time. Her stomach was in knots, her head light. Maybe she was in shock.
Or maybe she was just seriously pissed off.
That someone had set fire to Grams’ house made her want to scream. That they’d almost certainly done it to try to kill her and Anton terrified her, especially since they’d clearly used some kind of accelerant to do it, making them slow and sluggish, m
ade her sick. That they’d almost succeeded infuriated her. That she knew exactly who it was made her beyond livid. He had to be stopped.
She’d barely gotten the papers, their edges were curled and blackened. She just didn’t know what to do with them or how to clear Anton and prove who was actually behind the murders. Because she still wasn’t sure how to get him out in the open. If they couldn’t expose him, none of it would matter.
One thing was for sure; she was extremely sick of Sweethollow, cover-ups, and “cute” local legends that had been sanitized to attract tourists and erased real people. Not to mention she gave horrible psychopaths an easy way to commit heinous acts and cover them up. The last thing she wanted was to become another footnote in this messed-up story, but something had to be done.
She was suddenly enveloped in strong arms, held close.
“It’s going to be okay,” Anton was saying. She was shivering.
“You don’t know that,” she whispered.
“I do. It will be. Don’t cry,” he said.
“I’m not…” And then she felt the wetness on her cheeks. She sobbed into his chest, feeling tired and scared and about as far away from a tough city reporter as it was possible to be. She wasn’t cut out for this. She’d finish it, no matter what, but after this she was going to take up a nice, safe job. Maybe something to do with accounting.
She cried for a while; then, to her surprise, she actually dozed off. When she woke up, she was on the couch, afghan over her, Anton talking quietly to Susan and someone else. Officer Powell.
Taylor got up a little unsteadily and walked over to them. Nate looked concerned, and Anton looked crabby.
“Are we safe?” she asked. Powell nodded.
“For now. Everyone at the precinct thinks you two skipped town. So I’d advise you to stay inside until it’s fully night. And then actually get out of town,” he said. Taylor shook her head.
“We can’t. I’m not leaving until we find out what happened to my grams’ house. And the murders. I know it’s not the Rider now. I saw a man heading out the back. He was familiar, but I didn’t get a good look, so I can’t be sure,” she said.
“Taylor, it’s not worth it. I’ll keep investigating but it’s not safe for you here,” he said.
“Anton, back me up here,” Taylor said.
“He has a point.” Anton sighed. “But she’s right. I can’t leave this alone either. Not when someone has tried to kill Taylor twice and me once,” he said, voice hard. When she looked at him, his eyes were like hard chips of ice.
“Well, there’s only so much I can do. I’ve put myself on the line here already,” Powell said, frustrated.
“We know. I’m not asking you to do anything else. Stay out of it, investigate what you can. But I’m telling you right now: Nick de Marco is behind this. I don’t think he’s dead,” Taylor said.
“What?” said Powell, eyes wide.
“I have no proof. I told you I didn’t get a look at the guy leaving. But it was him. He faked his own death and made the rest look like the kind of stuff that happens around this time of year,” she said. “And he killed those girls back in high school. I think you know it, but like everything else with him, there’s no damn proof.”
“Look, I hated the Saints too, but—” Powell started, his face disbelieving.
“I know how fucking nuts it sounds. Like some movie or ridiculous novel. But he’s crazy…no, not even crazy. He’s something else. I don’t know any other word for it but evil,” she said.
“I’m a cop. I believe in evil,” Powell said.
“Well, that’s a start. I know I need proof. And I can get it. Maybe. But you need to keep the rest of them off us for a while. And we can’t leave yet. Otherwise this will never be over. And you won’t be safe either,” she said. Powell snorted.
“I’d trust her on this,” Anton said. “She’s been right about everything so far.”
“Unfortunately,” Taylor muttered. Anton took her hand and squeezed. She smiled at him. All of this murder and mayhem wasn’t the only thing crazy. She now trusted Anton Quinn with her life. And that was pretty insane, considering it had been just one week that she’d been back in town. But she was done holding on to the past. She wanted to start new. And the only way to really do that was to get Nick and then get the hell out.
“Let’s all have some coffee and then we can figure out what to do,” said Susan, coming out of the kitchen with a plate of little cakes. Taylor’s stomach growled. Coffee sounded amazing right then and she could smell it, acidic with a hint of nuttiness.
“I’m going to get back and keep everyone off of you. Text this number when you have any updates,” Powell said. “And be careful. I know I said that already, but I need to make sure you hear me.”
“We do. We will,” Taylor promised.
“Because if it is Nick…” He trailed off.
“It could get worse from here. I know,” she said.
“Do you?” he said quietly. She nodded. And then he was gone.
She took a deep breath and looked back at Anton, standing in the doorway to the kitchen where the smell of freshly brewed coffee was getting stronger. He looked so solid there, outlined by the warm light, shoulders broad, eyes dark and intense. She couldn’t read his expression.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked softly.
“No, but I’m going to anyway,” she said, laughing a little brokenly. “I have to. You know that. For Grams.”
“I know. I just had to make sure,” he said.
“You don’t have to come with me. I don’t want you to get any more hurt—
He was across the room and kissing her, hard, before she could finish her sentence. His lips were warm; his hands held her tight.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Never. You hear me?”
She put her head on his chest, smelling, the scent of smoke still in his clothes. They’d nearly died today, gone up in flames. The idea of losing him made her sick. The fire had been so close, she could still feel them getting hotter and higher…
“Taylor, don’t. Don’t think about it. We’re okay. I’m okay,” he said.
“How do you always know what I’m thinking now?” she asked with a smile.
“I can read your body,” he said, a knowing smile in his voice. She laughed, hugging him close.
“We’ll get through this. And once we do, we’ll get the fuck out of here and make babies,” he said. She laughed harder.
“Yeah? Who says?” She looked up at him, eyes big and searching his beautiful face.
“You, of course. But something tells me we’re going to have at least two. A boy and a girl. And they’ll both have your eyes and laugh…”
Taylor hugged him again. Funny how quickly life could change in a little over a week. She was just worried about what she could lose now.
“Okay, let’s do this. We don’t have much time,” she said.
“Coffee! Cream and sugar!” Susan called. She and Anton walked into the kitchen, hand in hand, ready to get started. It was going to be a long night.
***
They moved like shadows across the street, back to what had been Grams’ house. The cops were all gone; only yellow tape remained. They went around the back to the small gate that led to the path. The taller figure used a low light to guide them. As they went, Taylor dropped two things: a white handkerchief and another orange folder. She wasn’t subtle about it, and she hoped that their “stealthy” walk had been well observed.
Taylor knew they were taking a big risk, but it had to be done. They had to get this person out in the open. It was now or never and she didn’t especially want to start her life with Anton (if he wanted to start a life with her) on the run from a psycho.
Now she just had to make sure they didn’t get killed in the process.
The plan was pretty simple. Lure the bad guy into the woods, get him to admit to what had happened on camera, get him sent to jail. Why the woods? Well, they co
uldn’t go anywhere else. It was secluded, so they’d have the time to get what they needed, and no one else could be collateral damage. Plus, she wanted to know if the “real” Rider would show up or if that was just part of the show. The white handkerchief had been a bit of an offering. She felt ridiculous immediately after doing it, but if anyone was watching out for them, maybe they’d get a message to her. Superstitious malarkey, maybe. But they needed all the help they could get.
Yeah, it was a little Scooby-Doo, but they weren’t exactly experts. And at least this way they’d kill two birds with one stone. Hopefully not literally.
She just had to trust that the killer’s ego was bigger than his common sense.
***
Anton wasn’t sure about the plan either, but at this point they needed to get this asshole where he could get his hands on him. The fire had been the last straw. Anton had never been great with his temper, but this guy had to go. They were just lucky he’d woken up, and it was just luck that he had. The bed being so narrow had made him cramped and he’d woken up from actually falling out of it. He’d been terrified when Taylor wouldn’t wake up at first. And jumping out of a burning building hadn’t been high on his list of things to do with a girl.
He walked next to Taylor in the woods and wondered if the bad guy was going to take the bait. He had tried to kill them with a house fire. Subtle didn’t seem to be in his vocabulary.
Anton wanted to think about other things, like how much he loved being with Taylor. Although, he had to admit, that might be scarier than the killer on the loose. And it was all so fast. He’d spent his entire life trying to avoid the exact feelings he was having for someone he’d known less than a week. Although, really, he had known her for longer. There’d just been a bit of a break between.
And he didn’t want to be alone forever. It wasn’t something he admitted, even to himself most of the time. Taylor made him feel like he belonged somewhere, like he had a home. And it didn’t hurt that he seemed to want to sleep with her every other second.
