Page 63 of The Quiet Witness

Hand over her heart, she stared up at the sight in wonder. The cold whipped around them, burning her cheeks, blowing snow over the blanket, if Lucien’s grumbling voice behind her was any indication. It wormed its way into her neck, tried to reach her every limb. Whatever.

“I could never name all those colors.” She muttered. White hues joined in, brightening the sky, fading and appearing again, like ghosts, if they indeed existed.

“It’s like they’re partners in a dance, unwilling to step onto the other’s toes.” Lucien appeared next to her, head tilted up in thought.

Kate grinned at him, surprising herself. “Sounds like that Edgar Allan Poe book of yours has delivered, huh.”

Her companion snorted loudly, closing his eyes as the wind swirled, flakes darting in front of them. She saw his chest expand, breathing in the chilled air with a soft smile splayed around his lips. The killer enjoyed it. No, not the killer. Lucien. The slightly kinder version to his alter ego, the one who relaxed in the middle of nowhere, opening his eyes to stare up at the aurora with awe written on them. Her aching heart clenched together.

“You’re looking at me that way again.”

“What?” She stiffened. “What way is that?”

“Like I’m some curiosity, a puzzle you can’t quite figure out.” His gaze held hers, searching her for what, she couldn’t tell.

She glanced back at the sky. Cutting his search short. “Can you blame me?”

“No.” He turned back, black boots crunching lightly over the snow before graciously bending down to sit on the blanket, a deep sigh in tow.

“That sounds like an old man sigh.”

Lucien snickered. “Well, dear, when you’re in your mid thirties…” He trailed off, shaking himself before changing the angle. “Besides, I just got my insides wrecked by your fists. I think I deserve a pass for a light sigh.”

Mid thirties, ten or so years from now. Would she still be alive? Judging by Lucien’s reaction, he wasn’t too sure. Her gut spasmed, conflicted by his actions, his words.

He’d been right. Lucien was a puzzle to her, a Rubicon. A riddle you could never quite solve, the answer slipping beneath your fingers like thin sand. Or akin to… well, snow.

Kate didn’t want to admit to it. This side of her that had never felt… a safe touch, a hand on a shoulder while someone told her ‘we’ll get through this’. That wanted to see the miracles of nature and relax against a traveling companion. To be naive for once.

A part of her wanted to believe that he was more than the person who poisoned people at the Christmas table. Who scrubbed his car clean from blood, left a girl to fend for herself. Naive indeed. But it weighed on her, caught in a constant battle between growing trust and disappointment.

A dull thud echoed, repeating itself. She glanced at Lucien, who padded the blanket next to him. “Come sit. You’ll strain a muscle if you keep staring up at the sky like a marmot.”

She snorted loudly. “A marmot, right.” But she padded over anyway, flopping down onto the edge of the blanket.

Lucien lifted the rucksack he’d been carrying into his lap, leaning over to rummage through its contents. Judging by the bulky, stretching fabric, it held a lot. Black, as per usual. She wondered if he even owned any other color in his inventory.

Plastic crinkled within, a water bottle emerged, he handed it to her. “I’d say drink fast, before it’s as frozen as a brick.” Next came two baguettes wrapped in crinkling tin foil, and glass jars filled with tomato sauce and brown, thick-crusted veggie balls? He ended with a square glass package. Prying off the lid to show her a smooth chocolate cake, topped with extra thick milky chocolate. A whiff of cinnamon tickled her nose, and Kate squinted at all the food, mouth watering. “I missed the sign saying there is a drive through five-star restaurant.”

He laughed, self-confident smirk plastered to his face. “A picnic should have good food, not smudged sandwiches with a thin layer of whatever splattered in between.” He didn’t wait to push the cutlery into her hands. It wasn’t even plastic, but actual stainless steel spoons for the dessert.

Kate shook her head, biting into the bread. Flavors tingling her tongue, pepper, a special kind of salt he used. And something yellowish, looking like egg, peeked out between the baguette. She mumbled, mouth half full. “What’s this?”

“Scrambled tofu. With a butt load of spices. And tomato tapenade.”

“Hmm.” She nodded happily. “This… is real fucking good.”

“Who knew, huh.”

“What?” She shot him a curious glance.

“That I’d have other skills.” He tilted his head. Still wearing that same confident look.

“It is surprising.”

He leaned over, playfully nudging her shoulder, before biting into his own food.

Kate wolfed it all down, before long only crumbs were left behind, save for a smudge of chocolate, but that too was gone with another swipe of her spoon.