Page 114 of Too Old for This
“My mom,” she said. “But you’re not like her at all.”
“I have one child. I don’t need another.”
She scoffed and stepped back from me. “I thought you were nice. But you’re just a mean, bitter old woman.”
I gave her a place to stay, I was cooking her dinner, I listened to her long, boring story about getting lost half a dozen times, and she still insulted me.
With that attitude, Monica was never going to make it through the night.
The surprise was the knife. Initially, I had no intention of stabbing her. My plan was to knock her out with one of the cast-iron pans in the kitchen. They really added to the rustic feel of the cabin.
I cut her throat clean through. Ear to ear. There was no sound at all until the gurgling started. In seconds, blood spewed everywhere, reminding me why it was a bad idea. And I was stuck with it.
I didn’t have a lot of options at that point. No way to clean it all up, not with her bleeding all over the kitchen counter, cabinets, and hardwood floor. My quiet evening turned into a very long night.
By morning, it was all gone. The cabin and everything in it burned down, nothing left but a hollowed, blackened shell. And buried somewhere inside, a toaster oven with a badly frayed wire.
The owners of the house refunded me for the entire stay.
But knives do have one purpose. They’re good when you want it to hurt.
—
“Move, Grandma.”
I can’t decide if it’s better to be seen or to be invisible. Depends on the location, I suppose. The tool section of a big-box store isn’t a likely place for someone like me. I’m only here because of another text from Burke.
Burke:I won’t be down there until late tomorrow night.
I push my gigantic cart over to the kitchen aisle. It’s not much better here, too many parents around. Though no one is overtly rude, I do get a lot of nervous looks. Like I’m going to ask someone for help. All of these parents are too busy to help themselves, much less a stranger.
The knives are spread out before me, lined up from most expensive to least. I pass by all the fancy knives made of titanium and tungsten and ceramic, and go all the way down to basic steel. The most common utility knife is eight inches long with a black plastic handle. I put one in my basket next to my new hammer.
A knife is not ideal, but I need to be prepared. Adaptable. Both weapons feel good in my hand. Strong and sturdy, unlike my body.
I pay cash for both and get out of the store, then the parking lot.
Before heading back to the Dew Drop, I go to my house and head straight for the kitchen. My phone is taped to thecounter. I wake up the screen to check my messages one last time for the day.
Archie called.
“Hi, Mom. It’s me again. I know you’re angry, and I completely understand that. I also want you to know that I wasn’t trying to pry into your life. That wasn’t my intention. All I wanted to do is make sure you were okay, because I love you and I worry about you. Call me when you’re ready.”
I save the voicemail.
CHAPTER 62
It’s about eleven when I get to the Dew Drop. When Burke does arrive in town, the motel will be his first stop, not my house. He thinks Norma is staying here. And I bet the woman at the front desk will tell him the room number for cheap. Ten dollars at the most.
I set myself up in a chair near the window. My nerves are jangly. The noise outside makes sleep impossible; the cars and music never stop. Which is good. I don’t want to sleep at all.
Burke lied in his text. He is coming tonight, not tomorrow. I am convinced of this because I would do the same thing. Especially if I had been illegally watching video of someone in their own home.
But it will take him a few hours to get here, and I still have a few things to do.
I am no expert in vending machines, but the ones at the Dew Drop are refilled regularly. They’re popular, too. People use them at all times of the day and night. Around midnight, I head down to the machines for some sugar. Not because I am addicted to it, but because it’s time to use my witness.
Cropped Hair has no idea she has been targeted. Normally, I go out of my way to be invisible, or at least to blend in. But in this situation, setting up a witness has become necessary.
