Page 38 of Dread’s Beloved

“I think I can manage.” I crawl out of the tent and don’t stray too far. I go back about three trees into the brush and squat. When I get back, he’s already tearing down the tent and rolling it up. “What’s the plan?”

“Need to get a burner and get in touch with your brother.”

“Can’t you just call him?”

“I could, but that might be how he found out what area we were in. You’ve not turned your phone on, have you?”

“Um…I took some pics yesterday morning of my little chipmunk friends.”

“Babe.” He closes his eyes.

“I fucked up.”

“Where is it?”

“In my bag, why?” He doesn’t respond. He digs in my backpack and pulls my very expensive phone out and smashes it with a rock. “Hey.” I pout.

“Can replace a phone. Can’t replace you if that bastard puts a hole between your eyes.”

This is very true. I don’t argue.

I’m an idiot.

He pulls his cell out and smashes it next to mine.

“Um, honey. How are we going to contact Dark if neither of us has phones?”

“You let me worry about that.”

I purse my lips.

“We’ve gotta go.”

When we stop off for gas, Dread won’t let me go into the gas station for a snack or a coffee. He pays at the pump with a prepaid card and tells me he’ll feed me soon.

I hope his definition of soon and mine are similar because I’m starving and am in dire need of caffeine.

Soon turns out to be about forty-five minutes later when we pull up to a house with a police cruiser with a faded paint job and four flat tires parked in the driveway. The house belongs to a retired cop who worked with Dread’s father back in the day.

Joe is happy to see Dread and greets him as though they talk often. “You going to introduce me to your pretty little lady?”

“Kitty, this is Joe. Joe, this is Kitty. Happy?”

“Yeah. Damn glad it’s not that crazy thing you were married to before.” He chuckles and winks at me. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what brings you by?”

“This isn’t a social call.”

“Sweetheart, why don’t you go into the kitchen and help yourself to some coffee and cake. Got plenty.”

I read that as we need to talk, and I don’t want to do it in front of a lady. I don’t take offense. He’s older and reminds me of a sweet old grandpa type. “I’d love that. Thank you.”

Joe’s house probably hasn’t been updated since the 1980s. All of his appliances are Frigidaire, which look like they came with the house when it was built. I find the coffeemaker on the counter next to the stove. Looks like he recently made a fresh pot. I guess at where he keeps his mugs and guess right. The cabinet over the coffeemaker.

There’s a bowl filled with Little Debbie snack cakes sitting in the center of the kitchen table. I can hear them talking low and pointedly. Likely about my situation. I want to eavesdrop, but refrain.

I sip my coffee and allow myself to pretend for five minutes that life isn’t all bad. This morning was pretty darn nice. I wander back into the living room as Dread is saying he thinks he may have tracked us through my phone.

“To do that, he’d have to be a skilled hacker or have access through other means. You say this guy has been serving for the past twenty-years. Do you have connections like that?”