Page 33 of The Hunted
Silva: did you get a break in your case?
Janelle tapped her on her shoulder and she looked up to see another woman in the section with them. “Silva, this is a good friend of mine who is currently in town for work.”
Silva stood up to shake the woman’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” She waited for Janelle to finish the introductions, but something about the woman made her feel like a bug under a microscope.
“This is Amra Benson. We went to college together.” Janelle’s smile was wide but Amra kept a straight face, making Silva wonder if Janelle was more her friend than the two actually being friends.
“I think I’m going to play lotto tonight.” Janelle motioned for them to sit down. “I got the two people who never want to hang out to come out to Desires at the same time.” She scoffed. “Talk about luck.”
Silva eyed Amra with curiosity, wondering what had driven her out to a place like this.
“So, who were you bitching about when I hit you up tonight?” Janelle had this gleam in her eyes that made Silva shake her head. Some things never changed. She was eager to hear the gossip.
“It’s nothing,” Amra waved her hand in front of her face. “I work in a very male-dominated field and two men in particular, Santino and Jordan, don’t take too kindly when I show them up at work.”
Silva tried to keep her face neutral. The shock at hearing Santino’s name across some other woman’s lips shouldn’t have made her heart drop into her stomach. But how many Santino’s could there possibly be in Nova Springs?
She leaned in, her curiosity to know more about how other people viewed Santino had her mouth moving faster than her brain could catch up. “Tell me—tell us, why would you think that?”
Amra shrugged. “I’m better at my job than they like to give me credit for.”
ChapterFourteen
Santino pulled into the lot of the old fair just past Route 160. He contemplated where he wanted to drop Denise Miller. He knew propping her up on Route 160 wasn’t an option. There were still local PD lurking around as well as media outlets. He figured this was the next best place. If the Reaper had known him as well as they believed, then this place made sense. The Reaper would find the body and the message he left before the local authorities arrived.
He spent many summers here with his guardian and maybe even before that.
“We don’t want to go. We never want to go. You never let us on the rides or play any of the games.”
“That’s not true. You guys love the fun house.”
“No we don’t.You let them hurt us in there.”
There was that flash of memory again, or maybe it was a reoccurring dream he couldn’t exactly remember. The voice hadn’t belonged to him—neither had the other one. It was as if he was watching it play out from someone else’s life, and every time he tried to push the image forward, it evaporated like it was never there in the first place.
The fair had shut down years ago after a murder-suicide happened here. A man killed his ex-girlfriend because she refused to be with him. She had gotten free of his abuse—had a stolen moment of what freedom looked like—and he’d cut her life short right before he turned the gun on himself, ending it all.
Santino remembered reading that story and wondering what had driven a man to be so desperate and cruel to hurt and kill someone he claimed to love? Was that even love or possession? Though he couldn’t understand the emotions behind either. How could someone have that much control over another person that they’d throw away logic and reason?
He pulled his phone out of the center console, looking at the last messages Silva sent him. The way she texted still made him twitch, but he liked that she asked about his case. She said she was out with a friend, and it made him wonder about her life. He didn’t know much about her, at least nothing tangible outside of the internet. It made his fingers talk across his phone:
Santino: No break in the case yet, though I have a feeling something will happen soon. No one is ever that good at staying hidden forever. Usually the ego makes them get sloppy. How come you haven’t seen this friend in a while?
He waited for a response, though he knew he shouldn’t idle here for long. The fair had been abandoned right after the murder-suicide, the owners leaving it to rot. No one wanted to buy it, making it become a memorial of sorts of the life that had been stolen. He glanced in his review mirror at the body wrapped in a tarp. This would serve as someone else’s memorial now too.
Here lies Denise Miller, an attorney without a sense of humor, he mused. She hadn’t been very helpful on what women want or provided any feedback on the notes he wanted to leave the Reaper. For an attorney, she seemed at a loss for the right words.
His phone buzzed, and he looked down, feeling his lips pull back into a smile.
Silva: Two different people
Silva: with two different schedules
Silva: she likes to go out to clubs and stuff
Silva: I’m more of an at home person but
Silva: Figured tonight was a good night to hang
