Page 109 of Twisted Obsession

I did. I twirled long noodles around my fork and took a bite, fully aware that she watched my every move until I swallowed.

“It’s delicious,” I said.

Satisfied, she grinned and picked up her own fork. “It’s an old family recipe. My great, great grandmother killed a woman for it, stole her recipe and kept it.” She said it with such a matter-of-fact tone, I couldn’t be sure if she was joking or not, so I let it go. “Eat up. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

I cleared off my plate the way my mother taught me. All the while, we made small talk about me being out and what I’d done since my release.

“My brother took up sheeping after he was out the first time,” Abilene said easily. “You know what sheeping is? He bought sheep,” she answered when I shook my head. “He just grows them.”

“Sheep?” I wondered how one grew sheep.

“He has a whole farm full of them.”

I let it go.

“I know a lot of people take up different hobbies after getting out.”

Abilene nodded. “This is mine. After I got out, I bought this place.”

“In 1906?”

She stopped and blinked at me, her fork hovering over her plate. “You think I’m that old?”

I winced inwardly but kept my outward features calm. “I didn’t mean…”

Abilene stared at me for so long, I nearly shifted in my seat. I wasn’t expecting the rumble of laughter that followed. Her head dropped back as she roared.

“You should see your face.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. “Are you done eating? Do you want more?”

I declined as politely as possible and rose, gathering up both our dishes. I scrapped the leftovers into the compost and rinsed everything clean before placing them in the dishwasher.

“Leave the rest,” Abilene said when I reached for the pots on the stove. “My daughter’s coming later. It’ll give her something to do. Come. Sit.”

I sat.

My companion brushed a withered hand across the table in front of her, dusted her hands and dropped them into her lap. She watched me the entire time as if trying to read into my soul.

“You probably don’t remember this, but we met once several years ago. I think you were twelve, maybe thirteen. It was during some BBQ, luau type event. Exceptionally dull. You came to ask if I wanted to play chess.”

“I do remember that,” I said but didn’t add that the identity of the other person had been a blur to me until that moment. I’d simply found a chess set while snooping through the host’s house and she was the only person at the party who had been sitting away from everyone else, looking bored out of her mind.

“You were not very good at it, if I recall,” she pressed, a ghost of a grin touching her lips. “You kept trying to protect your queen, going so far as sacrificing all your other players, even the king.”

I drew in a breath. “You still won in the end.”

Abilene chuckled. “That depends entirely on who you ask. Life is a lot like chess. You realize that the older you get, especially in this business. You always need to be one step ahead.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you still protecting your queen?”

I struggled to maintain eye contact. “Trying to.”

She hummed quietly. “I was surprised by the news of your arrest. I never would have believed it if it weren’t for your confession. It made me sad to hear. I thought the darkness of this city finally made you like everyone else. It happens, unfortunately. But then I saw you in court and I looked into your eyes and what do you think I saw?”

It took me a full second to realize she was waiting for an actual answer. “I’m not sure.”

“What I knew all along — you are not a killer. That’s not the sentiments of a sentimental, old woman thinking of that little boy sitting across from her with utter focus on his face. You don’t have the eyes of a killer and believe me I’ve looked into plenty of those. There’s a weakness in you, a gentleness that doesn’t fit thethings we do. Don’t get me wrong, I know you’re fully capable of the horrible stuff, too. It’s there. I see it. But you’re not a killer, not yet.”

“I’m not sure I understand where you’re going with this,” I murmured, trying to keep up.

Abilene reached into the pocket of her apron and unearthed a pack of cigarettes and lit one. She offered me the box with the cheap, blue lighter tucked inside. I took one, thinking,so much for cold turkey.

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