Page 54 of Hitch
Turning Duane in is the right thing to do. Especially on my mother’s birthday. I’ve always done the right thing for her, and she would never be able to forgive me if she found out that I was sleeping with a killer.
But even as I stand outside of the police station, I can’t bring myself to go inside. Instead, I pull out my phone, wondering if I should call Duane.
But he’s a killer.
And one day, he’ll kill me too.
I shake my head and gaze up at the sky, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do. At that exact moment, my phone vibrates, and I drop it. Luckily, it doesn’t crack. It’s a refurbished phone, but it’s still new, and I need to be more careful with it.
As I pick up the device, a woman with a low bun glances at me as she enters the police station. I turn away from the door.
Duaneflashes on the phone’s screen. I answer it.
“Speak of the devil,” I say.
“Ain’t I talking to her?” he asks. A huff out my nose playfully. It’s probably wrong to flirt when I was seconds away from turning him in to the police, but I don’t know what else to do. “Where are you?” he asks.
I scan the area. “At the burger place across from the police station,” I lie. It’s close enough that it’salmostthe truth. And besides, I didn’t turn him in.
Yet.
“Police?” he chuckles. “They finally catch you up to no good?”
“The only one they’re going to be catching up to no good, isyou,” I snark, pretending to tease him. But I clutch the flash drive, and my abdomen tightens.
It’s so close, I can taste it.
But I can’t bring myself to finish that threat. No matter how much I know it’s the right thing to do, Duane has been good to me. Listened to me. Protected me when Michael was harassing me. Gave me power for once. Treated me like I deserve his respect.
Can I turn Duane in for something I’m not even sure he’s responsible for?
“Is that right?” Duane asks, his voice full of tension, like he knows exactly what I’m hinting at. My stomach quakes slightly, but I don’t let the fear come to the surface. I’m not doing anything wrong.
“Tasty Burgers?” he asks.
“That’s the one,” I confirm.
“I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
“But—”
The line goes silent, and before I process what I’m doing, I’m in my car, re-parking across the street before Duane finds me. I sit on the hood of my car, watching the entrance to the police station as different people go in and out. People doing the right thing.
I could be there. I could turn Duane in. Then, this nightmare would be over.
But I don’t want it to be over.
His familiar pickup truck comes into view, and those thoughts float away like clouds. The mere sight of him brings me peace.
“Where’s your burger?” he asks.
I lift my shoulders. “Already ate it,” I lie.
He cracks his neck, a rigidness cycling through his muscles as he readies himself.
“Let’s be real, Reggie. Why were you at the police station just now?”
Frost blooms in my chest. How the hell did he know I was there? Is healwayswatching me?
