Page 52 of Wrong Cabin, Right Time
Several days pass, and I feel the itch coming back. It’s not strong enough to disrupt my daily life, but it lingers. If I’m quiet for too long, I start dreaming about killing. I think about the thrill of the chase, finding someone and watching them. Waiting for them to show me their routine so I can properly stalk them from a distance.
I have some time before I need to find a victim, but I always keep my eyes peeled. You never know when the perfect person is going to fall right into your lap.
“Is there anything you want to eat?” Sage asks as she throws together a grocery list on her phone.
“I normally alternate between veggie lasagna, chicken and broccoli, and salmon with quinoa and brussels sprouts.”
She flashes me a dirty look as she shakes her head. “Maybe now that I’m here, you can try to change up your food habits. You can be a little less rigorous every now and then, right?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“I don’t know—Thai curry? Tacos?”
“You mean food that doesn’t come with a low glycemic-index rating?”
She rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone. “You are a nutritional war criminal.”
“I’m just saying, if kale was a person, I’d marry it. Stability is sexy.”
She throws a baby carrot at me from the fridge drawer before she stares at me with hopeful eyes, and I reluctantly nod.
“I’ll keep my schedule the same, with the exception of Saturday and Sunday.”
She smiles wildly and immediately starts searching for recipes on her phone.
I’ve made a lot of adjustments in my life for Sage, and it’s hard. Some of them come more naturally, but some have the potential to upend my life. Something as simple as letting her cook me dinner two nights a week is a relatively small sacrifice to keep the peace in the house. I figure if I give her freedom for these things, she can leave me to my own devices and allow me to keep my schedule intact otherwise.
Plus, if she’s going to be making an overly complicated dinner, that gives me time in my office to focus on my kills. Stalking Eli and killing him with Sage was interesting. She didn’t force her ideas on me—she let me take the reins. But now she wants to be a team. I didn’t ask for that.
We drive into town to buy some groceries and household supplies. Sage has a list, so I give her my platinum card, and she eagerly runs inside ahead of me to grab whatever exotic ingredients she needs for her ideas. I follow behind with a faint smile on my face at how excited she gets. It’s hard to admit, but she is fighting her way into my heart.
“Excuse me,” someone says nearby. Turning, my eyes widen as the perfect victim walks toward me. She’s young, probably nineteen or twenty, if I have to guess. Her clothes are tattered and stained with dirt and sweat. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, but I can see how matted and unkempt it is. “Do you have any change to spare? I’m trying to buy a bus ticket home.”
I freeze for a moment as I stare at her. She offers me a kind smile, and I do my best to force one on myself. I wasn’t expecting to find a victim so soon, but sometimes fate has other plans. The itch is strong, practically pulling me toward her like a magnet. It’s begging for me to do it now. To wrap my hands around her throat and strangle her.
I fight back against it and reach into my pockets to dig around for change. I grab my wallet and open it, finding a few bills inside. I’ve been approached by countless homeless people peddling for money; almost none of them are really looking for bus tickets home. But on the off chance she is, I don’t want to give her much money. Maybe a few bucks, but none of the $100 bills in my wallet will work.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t have anything on me right now.” I flash her an apologetic smile and look toward the door of the store. “What’s your name?”
“Nicole, and I don’t mean to be any trouble—”
“Nonsense!” I keep smiling at her and shake my head fervently to let her know she’s not a bother. “Are you going to be around here for a while? I can get some when I leave and bring it back to you.”
She smiles and looks nervously over her shoulder toward an alleyway across the street. “They don’t really like me staying around the grocery store. It makes the customers feel weird.” She laughs nervously and looks down at the ground. “I’m just across the street, though. Again, I don’t want to be too much—”
“Don’t worry about that.” Putting my wallet back in my pocket and thinking about how good it’ll feel to slice through her throat. “If you’re over there, I’ll come find you when I’m done shopping.”
I wave goodbye, throwing on the kindest persona I possibly can. All I can think about is how incredible this is. She’s exactly what I’m looking for. She’s young, so I assume she must be some kind of runaway. If her story is accurate and she’s just trying to get money to go back home, her family is not in touch with her. It will be weeks, possibly even months, before someone notices she’s gone.
I can taste the excitement on my tongue as I walk into the grocery store. Sage is lingering by the door with her eyebrows wrinkled, and I can already read what she’s thinking.
“Friend of yours?” She grabs a basket and waits for me to reply.
“I think she would be perfect for a project of mine,” I whisper, raising an eyebrow.
She inhales sharply but turns around before saying anything. We walk through the store, and she silently fills the basket with ingredients while I walk behind her, fantasizing about the kill.
At the end of an aisle, a salesperson is handing out samples of some kind of fish sauce. Sage grabs a sample cup, gives it a suspicious sniff, and recoils. “This smells like Poseidon’s armpit.”
