Page 2 of Hunt

I didn’t think I could ever hate anyone more than I hated my mother at that moment. She sold a baby. She sold a sweet, innocent baby for drug money. She deserved death, no, she deserved worse than death, so it was easy to drop contact with her and pretend she didn’t exist anymore when I, after being the target of so much badgering and threats, resigned to making up a story about Mikael Kaiser shooting Lars Kaiser.

The police wanted their man so badly that they were prepared to break the law for him. As soon as I went underground with a new alias, I didn’t see those dirty cops from the Larsson Police Department again, but Judith emerged with her warm, calming demeanor. She seemed oblivious to what had occurred, and I was too afraid to tell her what had happened, not realizing she had been part of it all along.

Now, the dirty cops are back. They might have different faces in different towns, but they had the same objective – to take down the Kaiser empire.

If this were a movie, I’d be rooting for the Kaisers, but since this was my life, squashed between bad cops and a dangerous family, I was most definitely on my own.

A gentle tapping caught my attention, and I lowered my hands from my face. However, my glasses were stuck to the sweat on my palms, and I had to rescue them before they fell onto the floor.

“Cheetos?” I blinked several times to make sure I was seeing correctly.

“That looked bad,” she said, pointing her thumb down the hallway where the dirty cops had just been. “And you with your hands in your face in reaction to their visit.”

“Don’t you mean…face in my hands?” I asked to clarify as the muscles in my face flexed to smile.

“That’s what I said,” she frowned, stretching her neck to gaze out the window. “They’re leaving now.”

“Ah, that’s no big deal,” I quickly fell into my acting role, shrugging dismissively. “Family stuff.”

An awkward tension came over her as she started chewing her fingernails. “Your family are cops?”

“You could tell they were cops?” I was surprised because they were plain-clothed and in an unmarked vehicle.

“I mean, yeah, it’s pretty obvious,” she said, her brow furrowing as she started digging her fingernail into the edge of the door. “You didn’t…ah, tell them about me?”

“You?” That comment surprised me until I remembered why. “Why would I tell them… oh wait. You’re worried about the fake ID thing?”

She shrugged. Well, it’s illegal, and I could get into much trouble. Not just with police, but with the university.”

“Well…I assure you I won’t tell another soul, least of all the damn police. Besides, how can I tell them about you when I don’t even know your name or anything about you?” I waited several beats for her to tell me anything about herself, but she remained quiet, preferring to be an enigma. “Do you live in this dorm, Cheetos?”

A funny look crossed her face, and then she made a show of glancing at the time on her phone. “You’re late for class.”

“C’mon, Cheetos, give me something. Anything. Tell me one thing about you,” I practically begged. “Hang on, how do you know I’m late for class?”

“Because it’s my class too. The class I go to, except…I don’t go to it. Instead, you go to it, then share your notes with me,” she rattled off almost abstractedly.

“Oh, that class,” I sighed, rising to my feet, and started unpacking one of my bags, searching for my workbooks and laptop.

“Were you about to leave?” The lines in her brow deepened even more.

“Yes. I thought I had to leave, but I was mistaken and came back,” I retorted, my voice wavering.

“Leave Gotland?” she asked to clarify. “You were going to leave Gotland?”

“I thought I had to leave Gothenburg altogether, but it looks like I don’t have to,” I told her without giving too much away.

“Why the urgency? What happened?” she pressed. Finally, I started to see animation and curiosity light up in her usually suspicious eyes.

I wagged my finger at her. “No, no, missy, I’m not telling you a single thing until you tell me your name.”

She made a strange sighing growl, and it was evident she was conflicted. “Laws,” she stated under her breath.

“Laws? Your surname is Laws?” I asked in surprise.

“No,” she shook her head and pointed her finger at me, “No, that’s your surname.”

“How do you know? Have you been prying on my stuff?” I joked to see how far I could go before she ran away or yelled at me. Everyone had a limit, a barrier they didn’t want to cross, but some people’s limits were further away than others. “Was ityouwho broke into my room?” I pointed my finger accusingly at her startled face. I knew it wasn’t her, and she seemed horrified that I would even suggest such a thing.

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