Page 24 of Call Off the Dark

Helen set the knife on the counter but kept her hand resting on the handle.

“Something in here smells good,” Isaac said. “Is that paprika?”

“He’ll be here any minute. Is he expecting you?”

“Not likely. I didn’t exactly get an invitation to your wedding.”

She regarded him suspiciously. His references indicated an intimate knowledge of their situation, but again, anyone could make these assumptions. If a couple were married, presumably they would have had a wedding of some kind. She waited for him to continue, to trip himself on a detail.

“I mean, I know you two didn’t have a formal wedding, but I could have been a witness at the courthouse. Our parents are dead, which I’m sure you know, or maybe you don’t.” He paused deliberately. It was a challenge.

Briskly, she said, “Yes, I know.”

“So I guess that made it easy for Wade to snub his only brother.”

Helen studied the planes of the man’s face more closely. He looked similar enough to Wade that it was possible they were biological brothers. He wasn’t classically handsome, but he possessed an attractive masculinity. He was just as tall as Wade, probably slightly taller, but otherwise not as physically imposing. He looked about her age, so possibly Wade’s younger brother by a few years. She removed her hand from the knife handle but otherwise did not move away from it.

“It wasn’t a snub,” she said. “It all happened quickly.”

Isaac waved his hand—Don’t worry about it—and Helen didn’t appreciate the pardon from a perfect stranger, but the feeling of annoyance that rose in her lessened her fear of him. This man seemed genuinely wounded that he hadn’t been invited to the wedding.

That, or he was a good actor.

“I think you should wait outside for Wade.”

Isaac straightened up from the wall. “Sure, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He paused, then added, “But if you were to get in trouble out here, I have to admit, that response there is pretty intimidating.” He looked at the knife that rested on the counter. “Just be sure you’re prepared to actually use that.”

Helen stared at him without blinking.

Isaac said, “But I think you are.”

He turned to the front door, but when he noticed the Poe book lying on the side table, he stopped. “Reading a little Poe?”

She watched guardedly as he picked up the book with an expression of sincere curiosity. Such a performance, she thought. She crossed her arms. The truth was, she didn’t feel threatened anymore. She just felt angry.

“What’s your favorite poem?” he asked.

“I don’t have a favorite.”

He opened the book to the page she’d folded down for the bird funeral. “It looks like your favorite is ‘The Raven.’”

“No, that’s just because I killed a bird today.”

“You killed a bird today,” he repeated, rolling the words around as if it was the most interesting declaration. He waited for an explanation. When none was forthcoming, he gestured toward the stew on the stove. “Is it in there?”

“No.”

“No?”

Helen could feel him circling her. Even though he now stood farther away from her than he had since he’d entered the house, she could feel him closing in. She pushed back against the feeling.

“It was an accident,” she said.

“How do you accidentally kill a bird?”

“The same way you purposefully kill a bird, except without intention. I shot it.”

“Are you a good shot?”