Page 31 of Follow Her Down
My smile stays easy, but my pulse is thumping like a ceilidh drum.This is him.The one who ruined her.The architect of all her scars.A hairsbreadth away and I can do hee-haw.
For now.
“Just passing through,” I say.“I tap into gigs on the road, ken?Was heading up to the motel nearby, just thought I’d grab some food first.”I nod my chin at the petrol station, casual.“They still serving?”
I shift in the seat, blocking his line on the chaos and wires sprawled behind me.No way am I letting him clock my collection dedicated to his victim.Not that he’d even recognise the lass he ruined—the blonde, curvy librarian from Kansas City that was my Prayer.
He tries to be sly, peering past me.“They’re open late.”He rests his elbow on my window like he owns the place, but his eyes are pure cop—alert, greedy, weighing risks.“You traveling alone?”
He’s close enough I could snap his wrist like driftwood and drag him against the glass before he gets near that holster.I could make him say sorry—proper—out loud.
I think of Prayer’s face if I did that.How she’d look at me.But this isn’t my vengeance to take, is it?It’s hers.
“Just me and the road.”I shoot him a grin.
He nods at the battered laptop on the seat.“Watching anything worth seeing?”
I give the same daft smile, even though the urge to smash his jaw on the dash is screaming in my head.“Just keeping an eye out for bandits.Been chibbed twice this year already.”I rap my scarred knuckles on the wheel.“Can’t be too careful, ken?”
He surveys me, like he can see my mind spinning.I curl my fingers tight, knuckles bone-white, and wonder what he really did to her.What words, what threats, what filth.The only honest evidence was her pain and rage, so powerful that it had leaked onto the dark web and found me there.
“Wichita’s been rough lately,” he finally says.“Murders.Other nasty work, too.”
“Is that right?”I keep my voice chipper, but in my head, I’m thinking:Wait till you see what’s coming for you.
“Yeah.So we keep an eye out for strangers.”He leans in slightly, a chilly smile on his face.“Especially ones who sit in dark parking lots for hours.”
So he’s been tailing me, the clever boy.Thinks he’s the wolf.No idea he’s the sheep here.
I laugh like I’m just a laddie on his holiday.“Well, Sheriff, I’m only looking for work and a warm bed.Not much bother here.”
All shite.I’m here for her, would follow her anywhere.Would torch half the state if it made her smile again.
Vincent straightens, maybe bored, maybe pretending.“All right, then.We close up this lot after hours, so you’ll want to move along soon.”
I give him an obedient nod.“Aye, nae bother, sir.”
Sir.That word feels like chewing glass.
He turns off, then tosses over his shoulder, “It would be a pity if another murder happened while you were in town.Things like that get tricky for outsiders.”
I can barely keep the real me from showing.Oh, it’ll get tricky right enough.
“You take care, Sheriff,” I say.
I don’t move until he’s out of sight round the corner.Only then do I let my breath out—a big, tensed-up thing, loaded with violence.
Grabbing the laptop, I spin round, fix my eyes on the only thing that matters—her.
And my blood chills.I freeze.
On the monitor, Rick’s got Sera pinned in the staff room.Her face says nothing, but her body’s rigid, braced as she bows near him, way too close.I know that posture.It’s not surrender; it’s calculation.
I stop breathing.Stop blinking.
She moves, quick as a weasel, going for her boot.Her knife whips up.Clever lass.But Rick slaps it away, and then he just wallops her across the cheek, sends her flying to the deck.
The world funnels down to this: that screen, that moment.
