Travis walks away, looking over his shoulder at me one last time as he leaves the baking aisle. I hesitate for a moment, knowing that I want to eavesdrop. Travis warned me not to do anything to expose him, and I don’t think this would.
I set the brownie mixes into the basket and follow him. He didn’t go far—he is just an aisle away, talking in a hushed voice. He’s not looking, and he doesn’t hear me tiptoeing up behind him as he whispers into the phone.
“Any surveillance from the rental shop?” Travis asks.
Surveillance? Is this about a potential kill? Eli, maybe?
But who else would know about this?
“He has to have given a real ID somewhere. The man’s not a ghost,” Travis continues, running his fingers through his hair. There’s a long pause on the other end as Peter tells him something else. “So he’s still in the city?” There’s a hint of hope in his voice, and I think this has to be about a kill. “All right. Keep me posted if they move anywhere.”
He hangs up the phone and turns around, his face immediately falling in disappointment as he sees me. “What did I say?”
“You didn’t say anything about eavesdropping,” I reply, shrugging casually. “What was that about?”
Travis huffs and shakes his head, grabbing my arm and leading me toward the cash register. “Can we not talk about this here?”
He grabs the basket from my hand and sets it down on the register, neither of us saying anything to the cashier as they ring up each item. Travis hands them the bank card, chivalrously paying for all the junk food I’m buying. He might be a killer, but he’s still a gentleman.
We pile into his car, and he checks his watch one last time before pulling out after his routine. I know we’re cutting it pretty close to his scheduled work time, and I feel a little guilty about this impromptu outing.
“So, who was on the phone?” I ask while his hands are glued in the ten-and-two position while he focuses on the road.
“You know, I stepped away because it was a private phone call.”
“You’re tracking someone, though, right?” I pull my leg up underneath me as I turn to stare at him. “Do you normally outsource the tracking to someone else? Who else knows about ... yourhobby?”
Even though Travis doesn’t look at me, I can feel him rolling his eyes.
“It’s a genuine question! If I know about this, I am liable in a way. I need to know about these things. If there’s someone else out there who understands what’s going on, then I should be filled in.”
Travis sighs and shakes his head slowly as he rolls up to a red light. He finally looks at me with resignation in his eyes.
“I have a private investigator on payroll. He has had some indication someone is looking into me, and he’s helping me find out who it is.”
There’s no emotion in his voice, not even stress. If I were him, I would be terrified someone was looking into me. He is, after all, aserial killer.
“How does he know this?”
“Someone has been searching for my name in some unusual ways. On top of that, I’ve seen somebody watching me. When we were at the ice cream shop, there was someone in a car clearly keeping an eye on me. They weren’t trying to hide it either.”
I feel sick. How can he be so calm about this? Someone knows what he’s up to, and they’re looking for him.
“What if they have evidence? You said you do the whole thing with the abandoned factories, and maybe that’s traceable in some way. Someone could have gone on to one of those sites and obtained something to implicate you,” I say. I’m nervously rambling off every fear that pops up in my head. “They could capture you. It could eitherbe a police officer who is ready to arrest you and throw you in jail, or possibly even give you the electric chair. Does North Carolina still have the death penalty?”
He opens his mouth to reply, but I don’t even give him a second to speak. “What if it’s worse? It could be someone who’s been following you and wants to blackmail you with this information. They can take everything from you. Maybe even make you kill other people on their behalf like some kind of hit man.”
“And that will be worse than lethal injection?” Travis laughs for the first time all day, and I stare at him, almost surprised to hear the sound. “You do realize almost anyone else in the entire world would think this is a good thing, right?”
He’s absolutely right. Most people would not be worrying about a serial killer being caught. They would be cheering on the police officers or vigilante heroes helping to throw them behind bars. But I’m not. The thought of somebody barging into Travis’s house and throwing him in handcuffs makes me want to vomit.
“Well, I’m not like anyone else.”
“I’m starting to wonder if you’re more dangerous than I am,” Travis says with a small chuckle at the end.
It’s supposed to be a joke, I think. But maybe he has a point.
Chapter Nineteen
