Page 109 of My Girl
“They think you’re dead,” I say.
“I am,” she whispers. “And you’re a suspect, Officer Gaines.”
“Do you like that?”
She presses herself into me, primal need oozing between her legs. A mix of pride and irritation swells in my chest, knowing that she does enjoy the fact that I’m a suspect. She likes having that power over me. She may still be planning my arrest.
It would be interesting if I finally ended up in jail because of her. I wouldn’t have suspected that.
“Roderick Galloway,” I mutter. She freezes, latching onto that information. “The Galloways adopted me from birth.”
Her eyes drift back to the burning house. It transforms into a black carcass in front of us. Rae knows the details about the Galloway murder-suicide, but she doesn’t know that the adopted son was the real killer.
I smell her neck, tasting the sourness on her skin. There’s a bitter aftertaste to her, a primal rejection written into our blood so that we don’t fuck each other. But I’ve never liked sweet things. I’ve always liked sour, bitter flavors. I like the way those flavors cling to my tongue.
I honestly don’t care what Rae wants, as long as she’s mine.
And I know Rae needs more from me too.
* * *
one month later
At the rental, I open the front door. Soft noises come from the bedroom closet. I expect them now.
Rae sits on the floor of the walk-in closet, watching television from a thrift store tablet on wifi stolen from one of my neighbors. A pile of comforters, old t-shirts, and blankets surround her. She holds up the device.
“Look,” she says.
A news reporter stands in front of the mall.
Police have finally ruled that it was yet another murder-suicide, determining it to be another case of bad luck,the reporter says.But some residents believe in a story far more nefarious. Some even consider it a curse.
A short young woman with blonde hair grabs the microphone. Penny, Rae’s teenage minion.
It wasn’t an accident,Penny says.Someone is out there. They didn’t like that Ned and Rae got so close to the truth.
And what truth is that?the reporter asks.
All the victims were murder victims. There was no suicide. They faked those deaths. The real killer—or killers—Penny stutters.They’re still out there.
I raise my brow at Rae, and she points back at the screen.
The victim’s brother has said that they now plan to destroy the house and expand the mall’s parking lot,the reporter says.This is Vicky, reporting from Nye County. Back to you, Steve.
Rae clicks off the screen. “So?”
“Your friend knows too much.”
She shrugs. “She’s just a girl.”
“You’re just a girl too.”
“I guess.”
“We should kill her.”
“Not yet. Is it time for us to move on now?”
