I lose all sense of direction in the chase. Branches and limbs slap past me, tearing at my hair and clothes. I am certain to be striped with scratches when this is over, but I don’t care. I can taste him on the air, that acrid bile of fear, the deep rot inside him like a tumor, the tang of all his sins. It sings to me, his flavor. It makes my blood throb in my veins. I am so close now, so close that if I spit it might land on him. But I want the satisfaction of seeing him die. I don’t want to hurl my poison loosely in his direction. I want to sink it into him with my own teeth.
I stretch a hand before me, reaching for the hood of his jacket, when a collision from the left sends me spinning to the ground, so hard I feel my shoulder give beneath me and think it might be dislocated. Dirt grinds into my teeth, and my head swims even when the world stops moving. I blink again and again, trying to clear the bright spots before me. As soon as I can, I get to my feet, pushing myself up slowly, shakily.
He is only a few feet away, hands already on his knees, heaving like he might vomit. When he looks up, it startles me. I know his face, but I’m not sure from where.
“Are you all right?” he asks, breathing heavily.
I stumble back a step. “Stay away from me.”
He stands to his full height, hands on hips, that chiseled jaw like a magazine ad. His hair is a ribbon of black, glossy like polished granite. His shoulders those of a linebacker. He’s beautiful, really, but he’s an unknown variant, a piece that shouldn’t be onthe board in a very deadly game. “Mrs. Davenport? Are you Piers Davenport?”
The name has struck me speechless, and he doesn’t look like he’s truly asking. He looks like he already knows.
“Who wants to know?” I ask, wiping the dirt out of my mouth.
The muscles behind his eyes slacken with relief, making him look sleepy and happy at the same time. He steps toward me.
I put a hand out. “I meant what I said. Stay back.”
His brows cross over his eyes, but he quickly shifts gears. “My name is Investigator Emil Reyes—”
“Investigator?” I scrutinize him. Those biceps and that overall air of authority. I should have known. “Are you a cop? Did Regis send you?”
He seems confused. “Regis? I’m sorry. I’m from Charleston. South Carolina. We’ve been following your case.”
“You’ve been following me?” I take another step back.
“Investigating,” he tries to say.
“Where’s your uniform? Your ID?”
He looks down at the sweatshirt and jeans he has on. “Investigating and then following. Please, Mrs. Davenport, I’m here to help you.”
“Stop calling me that,” I growl at him. “That’s not who I am anymore.”
“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asks, eyes pleading.
“Not until I see your badge.”
He pulls it out for me, holds it up.
“Toss it there,” I tell him, pointing at the ground. “And then step back.”
He debates and finally acquiesces.
I approach the shining emblem warily, keeping one eye on him at all times. Only when I am standing over it do all the pieces shift into place like a motherboard firing up—that face, so handsome and helpless at once, the name, the job. I know this man. Almost as intimately as I know Henry or the Strangler. His isn’t a life I’m destined to take, but one I was destined to save. He’s thecop who was choking that night, the one I rescued in the restaurant. What he’s doing here is a bigger mystery than what I am.
Convinced he is who he says, I walk back several steps, sighing. “Pick it up,” I tell him. “I recognize you.”
He looks relieved, a flash of something akin to fondness in his dark eyes. “I owe you a debt,” he tells me. “It’s why I’m here.”
“Well, you should have stayed in Charleston,” I tell him, hearing Myrtle’s own sass in the tone of my voice. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you no good deed goes unpunished?”
“What?” His eyes narrow, perplexed. I guess he thought I’d behappyto see him.
“Nothing,” I say. “Come on. I have somewhere we can talk. But you have to walk in front of me. And no matter what, you can’t touch me. Not for any reason.”
His eyes practically cross with the questions hovering between them, but he nods in agreement. “Okay. Lead the way.”
