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“It’s awesome you helped the committee out,” I comment, feigning excitement.
David grins proudly, puffing out his chest in mock pride. “I know you’re new to town and all. But trust me when I say that you don’t wanna miss these guys. They put on one hell of a show. And Moxie? Well, they pull out all the stops and bring their spookiest tunes to the stage every year. We’re expecting a great turnout.”
“That’s incredible,” I say, forcing a bit more enthusiasm this time. “I can’t wait.”
As he continues talking, I nod absentmindedly, my thoughts drifting elsewhere. All I can think about is my Little Finch proving her loyalty to me. Imagining her making Colton bleed, torturing him—before slitting his throat and leaving his body to be eaten by rats—causes warmth to spread through me. I suppress a shudder as I’m filled with a savage satisfaction.
A hand on my shoulder breaks me from my thoughts. I swivel my chair around to find myself face-to-face with Molly. Concern etches her face, making her look older than she is. “Something wrong?” I ask.
She purses her lips as if trying to figure out the best way to say something delicate. “Have you guys seen Colton lately?”
I frown. “No, not for a while now. Why?”
Her expression turns grim, and she scratches the back of her neck nervously. “He didn’t show up for work again today,” she says, lowering her voice. “I asked Billy if he’d heard from him, but no dice. He can’t get a hold of him, either.”
“Do you think something happened to him?” David interjects, his voice wound with worry.
She shakes her head. “I don’t know,” she says uncertainly. “But it looks like you guys are gonna have to find another photographer for the festival. I’ll sort through my contacts and forward some potential options to you ASAP.”
“Appreciate it,” I say, nodding at her gratefully. “We’re running the wire here.”
She takes her leave, and David and I exchange glances.
“Doyouthink something happened to him?” he repeats.
“Hard to say,” I lie, furrowing my brow in fake distress. “But we can’t worry about that now. We have to focus on the article.”
He chuckles. “Always straight to business with you, isn’t it?”
I shrug and resume typing. Inside, I’m giddy, lightheaded at the prospect offinallyseeing the life drain from that son of a bitch’s eyes. All by Gwen’s hand. I smirk to myself.
Maybe I’ll prepare the note tonight.
I vibrate with glee as I head down the sidewalk on Main Street, anticipation building in my chest the closer it gets to evening. The sun is shining brilliantly for an autumn day, adding to the spring in my step as I head out for my daily coffee ritual. It’s also a valid excuse to escape the office before my tolerance for my colleagues expires.
I round a corner and see Gwen crossing the street with shopping bags in hand. Annoyingly, Jennifer Breck is trailing behind her with bags of her own. She may not be as loathsome as Zoey Johnson and her repulsive father, Oscar—who is now dead, courtesy of me. But she’s definitely a parasite, sucking up all of Gwen’s attention from me.
I sigh and walk on, suddenly not feeling so giddy. But just as I’m about to pull open the door of the coffee shop, a familiar voice calls my name.
“Blake!” Gwen jogs over to me, and Jen joins her.
“Oh, hey guys,” I greet. “What are you up to?”
“We were out shopping for Halloween costumes and stuff,” Gwen replies, holding up the bags for emphasis. “We needed a pick-me-up, so we stopped for some caffeine. What about you?”
“I’m just on my way in now.” I put on a cordial smile. “You two wanna join me?”
Gwen smiles brightly and looks at Jen, who nods in agreement. “We’d love to.”
Someone’s in a good mood, I think, vividly replaying the memory of our frenzied quickie that night in the woods. I pull open the door to Tetra Brew and we all walk in. As we enter the queue, I ask, “So what did you decide on for your costumes?”
“I couldn’t decide on anything specific, so I ended up buying some stuff for something … original,” Gwen answers.
Jen thinks for a second before pointing her thumb at me. “Blake’s gonna be one of those slasher guys, right? I still don’t get why you decided to dress up as?—”
“Don’t tell him!” Gwen interrupts, putting her finger on her lips. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, remember?”
I chuckle to myself, almost forgetting that Gwen and I talked about Halloween costumes a few weeks ago. I brought up the possibility of going as Jason or Michael—and my Little Finch was more than thrilled to encourage me.Someone has a kink for masked murderers.
