Page 9 of The Witch's Orchard
Despite the crows, my sleep was dreamless and so deep that I woke slowly to a sluggish predawn chill and lay there, bundled in my covers, waiting for the day and, with it, Leo’s call. Now, I’m sitting up, tugging my pre-tied running shoes onto my bare feet. This is how I begin every morning.
“Listen, I got an opening over here,” he says. “One of my guys up and got the flu. I’m not taking his congested ass anywhere.”
“So, get another guy,” I say. I stand and wobble into the unfamiliar bathroom, search for the light switch, find it, squint at my reflection in the too-bright glare, and flick the switch back off. I turn on the speaker and put the phone down on the vanity while I pee.
“I don’t want another guy,” Leo says. His voice is earthy and rich and smooth, like the rest of him. He’s a top-shelf product I could never afford.
“Well, I have a job,” I say, washing my hands, my face.
“Where are you?”
“North Carolina. The mountains.”
“You drive that ancient car all the way down there? Over those hills?”
“If you’re talking about Honey, my beautiful and pristine classic 260Z, then yes. I did. We had a wonderful trip, thank you.”
He snorts. Leo loves Honey and always dotes on her when he’s in town, but he still never misses an opportunity to needle me about using her as my daily driver, arguing that I should get something more dependable for long rides. I always think it sounds like a good idea until I go outside and start up Honey and sink into the familiar purr of her engine.
“I could pay you better,” he says. “We got a hell of a contract at the moment.”
I take the phone into the kitchen with me, fill a glass of water from the tap.
“I tried that, remember? Two months was as much as I could do. I don’t want to work private security for some rich dick who only needs private security because he’s constantly screwing people over.”
Leo laughs a little. I hear a light spoon clinking against delicate china. Coffee, two sugars, a splash of heavy whipping cream, I remember, smile to myself. The smell of Leo’s coffee rushes back to me. The smell of Leo isn’t far behind. Faint hints of sandalwood, gunpowder, red wine.
“So you’re working for some redneck instead?”
A hint of his South Texas accent comes through. Like me, he’s mostly lost his regional dialect but, unlike me, it was intentional. Meeting Leo for the first time, you’d never guess his origins. I’d known him for more than a year before I ever even had a clue.
“Annie,” he says. “Just what are you into?”
“Old kidnapping case.”
“Stirring up shit,” he says, like he’s just affirming what he already thought. He’s not wrong.
“The kid’s probably long gone,” I say. “Her big brother hired me. I’m probably getting paid just to go around asking questions that make people feel weird.”
“Probably.” There’s a pause while he takes a sip. “You bring your gun?”
“Yeah.”
“Take it with you. Those rednecks are all packing heat. You might as well be too.”
“It’s an old case, Leo.”
“Annie, take your piece.”
I roll my eyes. On his end, there’s a highbingsound, muffled. Maybe an elevator down the hallway. I think he’s in a hotel and I picture him somewhere sunny—an open window, a breeze billowing an expensive, sheer curtain. Leo is all low-key luxury. From his tailored T-shirts and designer leather jackets to his three-hundred-dollar haircut that looks exactly as unkempt as he likes, he is the model of unpretentious pretension and, somehow, I’ve never been able to hate him for it.
“Wheels up tomorrow. Nineteen hundred. You sure you don’t want a ride?”
“Positive.”
There’s another pause where we both just breathe, almost silent. On his side, I hear the bells of a distant church. It’s twelve o’clock, wherever he is. Monaco, maybe. Or Madrid, Naples. Beautiful European cities with grand histories and dramatic architecture. Places like that suit Leo.
I look out the window of the cabin, into the predawn gloom, the still-violet light on the cold, dewy grass. My own car in the drive is the nearest sign of human activity. Beyond that, a gravel road, an old farmhouse, a dying town. Places likethissuit me.
