“I don’t. Long as you’re straight with me, I won’t say anything to anyone. But you’ll need groceries, other necessities, which means you’ll be in and out of town. There’s no way for you to stay completely off the grid. The good news is the folks around here won’t bother you. As for me, all I want is a day’s work for a day’s pay. You’ve done that so far.”
“I won’t disappoint you. Just tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”
Josh clamped down on where that thought led. What he needed from Tory Ford was something he wasn’t going to get. He took a drink of his beer, set it down on the wire mesh table in front of the swing.
“You might have noticed I’m still not finished unpacking. I could use some help with that, and keeping the house clean. I need breakfast in the morning, a lunch packed so I can keep working through the middle of the day, and supper ready at dark. You think you can handle that?”
“Absolutely.”
“You can bring your daughter when you come over. That way you won’t have to worry about a sitter.”
Tory relaxed back on the swing. “That’d be great. Thank you.”
“I don’t know how long this is going to last, but we can try it for a while. At least you’ll have a little money in your pocket when you leave.”
She just nodded. He still didn’t know much about her, but he didn’t really want to. With any luck, whoever she was running from wouldn’t find out she was here. Or better yet, the guy would quit looking.
Josh took another long draw on his beer and rose from the chair. “How about that supper you promised? I’m still holding high hopes you can make something halfway decent out of that burned-up bird.”
Tory grabbed her beer off the table and stood up from the swing. “I’m on it. It shouldn’t take that long.” She crossed the porch and opened the screen door. “Just one thing.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“I need you to get that oven fixed. I don’t want to burn up any more chickens.” As she stepped into the house and the screen door slammed closed, Josh smiled.
He wondered if the stove really had malfunctioned, and hope resurfaced. He almost never used it. Hell, maybe it actually had failed.
Another thought occurred. If he could keep his mind off sex, it ought to be an interesting next few weeks.
Chapter Seven
The late afternoon air was cool this high in the Arizona mountains, the sky bluer than it was down in Phoenix. Damon unloaded the twin bed mattress from the pickup he had borrowed from his best bud, Anson Burke. He and Burke went way back. They’d partied together, done drugs together, shared women, and once during a booze-and-cocaine bender, wound up in bed together, though neither of them wanted to revisit that particular episode.
Nor had he mentioned to Anson the peculiar tastes that had begun to consume him. That was his business and his alone, his pleasure to enjoy.
The mattress was cumbersome as he carried it into the cabin. The dilapidated wood-framed structure had a screened-in porch, a living room with an old iron stove for heat, a kitchen along one wall, a tiny bedroom, and an ancient bathroom.
The cabin had belonged to his mother’s father. His grandfather had loved to come up to the mountains and hunt. The old man had brought Damon with him a number of times, said he had a knack for stalking, moving in for the kill.
His mother had died when Damon was twelve. His grandfather had Alzheimer’s now and was living in an old folks’ home. With both of them out of the way, Damon had taken over use of the cabin, which was remote and completely secluded.
Perfect.
He had taken the day off from work to make the two-hour drive up and finish the project he had started with Tory in mind. He’d had to modify his plans a little but he found himself looking forward to the change in direction, and he was almost ready.
Dragging the mattress across the wood plank floor, he opened the door leading down to the basement. He had hired a couple of teenagers camping in the area to empty and clean the space out, had them scrub down the cement walls and floor with ammonia.
He dragged the mattress down the wooden stairs he’d reinforced and let it fall to the floor, went down and shoved it against the wall. He glanced over at the small refrigerator he had brought down, at the Porta-Potty behind the curtain he’d hung in the corner.
A satisfied smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Just a few more days and he could execute the first part of his plan. He’d have to be flexible, make adjustments as he went along, but he was used to that. In a way it was just like hunting.
Except this time his quarry was human.
* * *
Tory couldn’t put the trip to town off any longer. She was cooking for Josh now, as well as for her and Ivy. She needed canned goods, meat, milk, bread, fresh fruit and vegetables. She needed staples like flour and sugar. Josh’s pantry was emptier than the one in the trailer.
She got her daughter up and dressed—Ivy was in the mood for a little pink-striped pinafore since they were going into Iron Springs. She was the most girlie little girl Tory had ever seen.
