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“We understand that you and William have been working together for some time now,” Carter says. “Can you tell us exactly why he brought you on board?”
I’m prepared to answer his questions candidly—anything to get these two off my ass. “I sort of just stumbled into it. William desperately needed a copy editor, and I applied. My degree only had so much to do with it.” I push my fake glasses up the bridge of my nose. “I got a promotion to staff writer later.”
“Have you ever been tasked with writing about any of the murders?” Carter asks.
I maintain my composure. “Yes, I have.”
Carter and Stone exchange a look before Carter asks, “Could you tell us what type of research you did for those articles?”
I lift my chin, my tone even. “I interviewed the victims’ families, friends, and neighbors about their lives leading up to the murders. Then I compiled my findings to get a better understanding of what happened, and maybe why.”
Carter nods slowly. “I see. It sounds like you had plenty of opportunities to learn about the crimes firsthand.”
More than you know. “I can’t say that I discovered anything new or groundbreaking,” I say, shrugging. “Not anything more than what the police released to the public.”
Stone glances at me, and my skin prickles with unease; I can see that he’s trying to read me. “Do you have any theories of your own? About who the killer could be?” he asks, his voice deceptively calm.
I shake my head. “No, not really. Just personal speculation about why someone might commit such horrible crimes—nothing concrete.”
Carter looks at me with a friendly smile, but I don’t think he’s entirely convinced. “Thank you for your time,” he says, once again reaching over to shake my hand.
“No problem,” I say before standing up. “Anything else you need from me?”
Carter shakes his head. “That’ll be all. Have a good day, Mr. Sullivan.”
I plaster on a friendly smile and head to the door. Stone takes another long look at me, his expression unreadable as I leave. Once I’m back at my desk, out of earshot, I let out a sigh of relief. My nerves are on edge; it’s clear that Carter and Stone wanted something specific. But what?
“Are you okay?” David asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’m fine,” I answer, giving him a tight grin. “They’re looking for someone else to interview, if you wanna go next.”
“A sacrifice for the pyre?” David says in an exaggerated, dramatic manner. “No thanks. I’ll pass for now.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Honestly, if you want my opinion, they must be getting desperate if they’re coming here for answers.” I want to believe my own words, but something’s still nagging at me. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.
David nods in agreement as he returns to his work. I do the same, though my mind wanders. If it comes down to it, and things come to a head, I need to make sure I’m prepared—including having an exit strategy. Maybe a trip out west, far from the muggy summers of the East Coast, is just what the doctor ordered. Or perhaps the southwest; there are a lot of places to hide out in Texas.
The two of us—my Little Finch and I—could use a vacation.
The day stretches on, painfully slow. After work, I quickly pack up and head out, eager to escape. As I drive home, I mentally list everything I need to stow away.
It’s time to put that storage unit to good use.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
HER
“It’s more of an incredibly tragic love story than a zombie film,” I say, sipping the rest of my drink. “Honestly, I think the critics unfairly maligned it.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Blake snorts, wrapping his arm around me as we exit the theater and cross the parking lot. “Zombies eating brains and falling in love? It’s a ridiculous premise.”
“It might have been silly, but the ending was a gut punch. I mean, despite the horror elements,Return of the Living Dead 3is about two people who love each other deeply, who could not be together because of circumstances beyond their control.” I trail off as we arrive at his car. “Would you go that far to be with someone you love?”
He pauses for a moment, considering my words. “Love makes people do crazy things sometimes,” he says, unlocking the driver-side door. He slides into the seat and waits for me to take my place in the passenger side before continuing. “If I truly loved someone, then I would definitely go to extreme lengths for them.”
I can feel the intensity of his gaze as I shut the door. He leans toward me and my heart races, my breath catching in my throat as he presses his lips against mine. I grasp his shoulder, keeping him close until he finally pulls away. He says nothing more as he starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot.
