Page 17 of Sinners Reunion

Laughter crackles over the speaker, followed by, “Captain Cocksure? Oh, that’s good!”

The sneaky little redhead pulled him aside during the first stop, and they’ve been regular chums ever since. She’s worked out some deal with him, I’m sure, which means I’ve lost any chance to be rid of her for this trip. I’m so glad they’ve made friends and are having such a jolly time at my expense, though.

“Set your GPS for Wiseman Mall. The girls want to take your little captive on a shopping spree before the trip begins,” Jim says.

Bloody hell. Shopping? Who goes on a road trip to go shopping?

I pull my phone from my pocket and call Jim, but he doesn’t answer. I try again, and it goes to voicemail after the first ring.

“Is someone trying to say something?” Jim asks over the radio. “It sure sounds like King has something to say.”

I snatch the radio from Josie’s hand. “I’m not taking her to the blasted mall, Jim. Not happening.”

“Who said that?” Jim asks. “Without the call sign, I don’t know with whom I’m speaking.”

“RV There Yet to Air Force Fun. Fuck. You.” I clamp the mic back into its holder and turn the volume down until Jim’s crackling voice disappears. I glance at Josie, who picks her nails and grins to herself like the fox who just raided the henhouse. “You’re quite pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

“Indeed,” she says, mocking my accent. “But let’s remember that it wasn’t my idea to get kidnapped for a vacation. It isn’t my fault I have no clothes.”

I’ve a right mind to drive her to the nearest estate sale and let her have her pick from Grandmother Eustace’s things. Let’s see how cunning her smirk is when she’s strapped on a pair of shoulder pads circa 1987.

But I don’t. I simply adjust our heading and aim the RV toward the mall.

I need to pick up a few things myself. After all, I can’t prove Josie right; she wasn’t so far off when she accused me of only packing formal attire. I never considered how silly it may look to crouch around a campfire in a monkey suit, and now that I have, I don’t want to give her the satisfaction.

Lazy city streets grow more congested the closer we come to town. The summer sun hangs low in the sky by the time we pull up to the large complex. It isn’t hard to find our group.

Massive vehicles fill the back half of Macy’s parking lot like some sort of redneck Donner Party. Sinners mill about, chatting just outside. As we pull closer, we’re greeted by waves and smiles.

Josie smiles and waves back.

I die a little inside. She isn’t supposed to make friends. These are my people.

“Remember the rules,” I say. “If you force me to come looking for you, it won’t be pretty.”

“Don’t be an idiot. I begged to go on this trip. Why in the hell would I run off? That’s what you do, not me.” She heads for the back of the RV, tossing out her jab and offering no chance for me to swing back.

And damn it, the blow lands.

If she believes I left her all those years ago for my benefit alone, she couldn’t be more incorrect. It was meant to help her. Once I was gone, her life was supposed to go back to normal. I expected her to attend community college and settle down. I expected the murderous months we spent together to heal that broken part of her enough that she could limp across the finish line and start her life anew.

Then again, she seems to have done well for herself. She hasn’t abandoned the lifestyle as I hoped she would. In fact, she’s embraced it in ways I never wanted. She seems happier, though, and maybe that’s part of the reason I didn’t want to drag her along on this road trip.

My memories are of a young woman entranced by a newly discovered, hidden world. I may not have popped her cherry in the sexual sense, but I was there when she first plunged a blade into a victim. I held back her hair the first time she left her breakfast—and her morals—on someone’s kitchen floor. And when I realized she enjoyed it a little too much—and maybe that I enjoyed her a little too much—I left before the change in her could become permanent.

Or so I thought.

Once I departed from her, I never looked back. It would have been too tempting to look her up, so I didn’t. But as Jim explained it, she continued her bloody path, and she’s carved a name for herself in the annals of serial-killer history.

I should be proud. I should feel like Dr. Frankenstein as his creation rose from the gurney in spite of all impossibility.

Instead, a heavy weight sinks like a stone in my innards.

“Come on, Captain Cocksure,” Josie calls from the back. “It’s time to go shopping!”

“Right behind you, my beauty.”

“Ugh, don’t call me that.” She opens the door and exits the RV, and I enjoy the sway of her hips as I follow her.