Page 26 of The Quiet Witness

At once music filled the house. “Coolio’s Gangsta’s Paradise” blasting from the speakers. Lucien wouldn’t be taking any chances anymore.

Tears pricked behind her eyes, blurring her view.

“Hey Ghost.” Her hand trembled as she bent down to pet him. Like she’d done dozens of times by now.

A shrill bark stopped her advance, sending the message, ‘Don’t’. Just like his partner.

It was obvious. Lucien’s order went over her kindness.

He whined once more, unrest filling his form as he tentatively wiggled his tail once. Twice.

Kate walked backwards, the back of her knees colliding with the bed. She sat down.

This is it.

A humorless laugh escaped in between hard breaths.

You’re on your own here, kid.

Fifteen years. All those years spent in loneliness among her foster family. But never, never had she felt as deserted as now.

She scooted backwards against the pillows, knees drawing up to rest against her chin.

One tear. One streak carved down her cheek. It was the only one she allowed.

Chapter 11

A Matter of Perspective

That goddamned promise.

He had stood in front of her door that first night. Fully intending to solve the problem before it grew roots. Listening to her breathing. Awake, tense.

If anything she had deserved a painless end. And if need be, he could still do that.

Blood dripped onto the floor. Raising his index finger and thumb to his nose assured him it was still in its original place. Surprising.

A swift turn into the kitchen, paper towel to staunch the bleeding and… another piece to bind the wound on his finger.

Dios mio. This girl is akin to a feral cat.

Shame for her, he kept himself in tip-top shape. She would need to get creative to get out of here, but he didn’t doubt for a second that he had a fighter in front of him.

And that boded problems.

He opened the door with a flourish. A young postman stood behind it, with a wide-toothed smile on his boyish face. The youth’s mouth fell open for a moment, closing with an audible click.

Lucien lowered his voice gently, “Might I ask what you’re here for?”

“Oh y-yes o-of course. Sorry, sir.” He ruffled through a bunch of letters. “Are you Lucien Alexander Evans?”

“I am indeed. And you are?” He trailed off.

The boy went with a hand through his hair. “Oh, sorry, my name is Mick. I’m B-Barry, his replacement.”

He’d gotten used to it, of course, the grovelling. It wasn’t their intention, and it sure made his job one hell of a lot easier. But it still… remained… awkward. Useful, but intense.

Lucien forced enthusiasm to coat his words. “Aha! I did catch word of his retirement, how is he doing?”