Page 37 of With Spite

I knew it deep down in my bones.

“Say something,” she urged.

I put my hands up behind my head, grabbing my neck, and stared.

“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted. “I can’t believe that you’re alive.”

She looked slightly green at that news.

“I was going to run away,” she admitted. “I had everything ready. I found the person to make my new IDs. I got three years’ worth of medication stocked up. I sold everything. Cashed in everything. I was literally about to run when Birdee found me.”

My hands dropped back to my sides. “We have to talk to your brother.”

She crinkled up her nose. “I know.”

“Today,” I said.

“Today?” she asked, voice raised. “We can’t do it today! It’s snowing cats and dogs outside!”

My lips twitched at her terminology.

“This isn’t something that we can play around with.” I paused, my eyes hard and open. “I’m not saying that it’ll happen. Because that would be fucking terrifying if it did. But what do you think would happen to this town if a serial killer is found here?”

She blanched.

“Your brother, who broke out of prison along with six other men, would be found. This town would light up like a goddamn Hallmark Movie at Christmas. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, would show up. His quiet life in a Montana town would be gone. He’d have to move. All those lives that are based on a lie here would have to go, too. And everyone would have to separate. No one could stay together just in case. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. What do you think your brother would do if this serial killer found you here?”

Her shoulders slumped.

“That’s right,” I said. “We need to figure this out. Right now.”

Her eyes were slick with tears when she said, “I didn’t mean to hide something so important. I just…I figured if I didn’t bring it up, if there wasn’t a trail that led me here, and I didn’t push anyone into doing any research, it would just be gone.”

“Or he could find the video of you and Birdee in the same hotel and come up here on the off chance that you came here. Facial recognition software is a real thing, Bernice.”

She covered her face with her hands. “Shit.”

I started closing the butcher shop down, cleaning up as I went.

When I was done, I headed outside to start the truck.

I made sure to set the heater on high before heading back toward the shop.

When I got through the door, she was already there slipping on her jacket, having retrieved it from The Mercantile.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” she grumbled, dragging her feet as she followed me outside.

Before her boots—which were wholly inadequate for the Montana weather—could touch the snow, I hauled her up in my arms by wrapping both arms around her thighs and lifting.

She squeaked as her hands went onto my shoulders and clutched.

When I got to my truck, I let go of her legs with one arm and yanked the door open.

When she was safely inside and her seat belt was buckled, I walked around the truck and looked out over the roads.

The plow hadn’t been through yet. Probably wouldn’t be through until much later.