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She was smart.
And, sexy as hell, frankly.
“Stop it,” he told himself.
Well, maybe he could think about her for just for a minute or two. It couldn’t hurt.
He could see the two of them together. Both were products of broken homes, strange circumstances. Black Vulture. Coming from the town was almost enough in itself to create a commonality that was tough to crack, something that created a forcefield around you to keep you hidden from the regular world, the one that was normal. The one that wasn’t Black Vulture.
He could see them standing next to each other, holding hands, embracing, and then …
It was like fireworks silently exploded in his mind’s eye. White static, flashes of uncomfortable light. Pain in his temples.
He fell to his knees, the palms of his hands at his temples. It would calm down. He just had to stop thinking … of those things.
The things he hadn’t been able to think about for years, all because of what happened in Black Vulture.
All because of Wilmot and Hazel Dylan.
No, he didn’t want to hold Hazel Dylan’s hand, pull her close. He wanted to rid the world of her, get rid of the last sign of Wilmot Dylan.
Changing his thoughts helped. The pain eased, and the lights and flashes calmed to manageable. He opened his eyes a crack, testing the light. He’d be okay in a few minutes.
Now he just had to remember to put his thoughts about Hazel Dylan where they were supposed to go.
He couldn’t wait to cut away her body’s excess and expose and then touch her bones. He couldn’t wait to touch her femur.
His life would be complete then. He would be free from the past, and he could finally live the life he was meant to have.
He couldn’t keep putting it off.
CHAPTER
19
I WASN’T INVITED TO talk to Susan. I made it clear to Calloway that if he didn’t take me, I would go on my own, soon enough. I had questions. He made it clear to me that back when my father disappeared, the authorities did reach out to her, but she didn’t respond. This left me unsettled and angry, which was a good reason for me not to go with Calloway right now.
What the hell, Aunt Susan?
He pulled the Tahoe next to my Jeep. “I’ll call you later. Take a break, Hazel. This is … all so weird. I didn’t mean to pull you into something that seems to be turning quite this personal. Is there anything else you can work on? Go get that box from Pearly.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Good. Put your thoughts there. I’ll let you know what I hear. You need some time, and I can’t talk to Susan with you there. You know that?”
I didn’t move. “This is all coming from some sick take on art and a bucket of blood?”
“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out, but I want you to be on your toes.”
I patted the knife in my pocket. “I’m good.”
“There’s always someone better. Carry the gun.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Get home.”
I shut the passenger door and watched him drive toward Susan Shaw’s house. I couldn’t help but think that there was some mistake, that my biological aunt did not live in the same county as I did, without so much as saying hello to me after Wilmot disappeared.
