Page 59 of Hunter or Hunted

Sebastian and I walked north together for about two blocks. Straight ahead, trees swayed in the warm breeze. Swings at the playground on my right creaked and squealed as the air drifted them back and forth.

We kissed goodbye, and I continued toward the park. Only the dinosaur bounce toy stared back at me, thankfully. No witnesses would see me head into the woods in the back corner.

As far as Sebastian knew, I went for a solitary walk to clear my mind before wishing my friend well on her journey to whatever came next. That way, if questioned, no one would suspect his involvement in my break-in.

Once protected by tree cover, certain no one had eyes on me, I slid off my ballet flats and stepped into the sweats and tennis shoes. Carefully, I tucked every bit of my dress deep into the fabric. Next came the mask, tucking my curls into a clip at the back of my head, then the hoodie to cover it all. Gloves went on last. I checked myself in my phone camera. No way in hell anyone could identify me like this.

Aside from the gloved hands I stowed in my pockets, I didn’t look suspicious. Just cozy. Like I was preparing to walk Honey on a cold winter day.

And for this environment, it was fitting. While Sebastian and I were comfortable in dress clothes without a jacket, the fifty-degree weather may as well have been a snowstorm to these Missouri natives. Everyone at the funeral had worn long sleeves. There was even a coat closet—full to the brim—just past the entrance.

The two-mile walk from the park to Evan’s gave me time to think through what I was about to do.

If I got caught, what was the punishment? A couple months in prison? Certainly no more than a year or two. Far less than the life sentence, or lethal injection, I’d face if I killed Evan. Or if the cops found out what I’d done to David.

Maybe I had to treat this as a test, like Sebastian said. If I got caught breaking in, then I couldn’t get away with killing Evan. I’d be the first suspect.

I’d never called myself a religious person, and that wouldn’t change any time soon. But as I ventured through the woods, following the east-facing compass on my phone, I made a deal with the universe.

If I get caught now, all bets are off. I won’t kill anyone else. I’ll let this anti-hero, vigilante fantasy die.

But if I don’t get caught, I’ll take it as a sign. Confirmation from you that I’m doing the right thing.

The universe stayed silent.

19

RHIANNON

At 5 A.M., Rhiannon awoke to the sound of birds accompanied by a slow yellow glow. Not real birds, and not the glow of the sun. One of those new alarm clocks that simulated both. When Simone gave it to Rhiannon two years ago for Christmas, she’d said that it was good for her circadian rhythm.

So far, it had been. Rhiannon found herself waking up a little lighter, a little brighter.

By 5:05, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She washed her face and swiped on some tinted moisturizer. So far, the greatest part about living in a post-menopausal body. Her skin had evened out, and all she needed was a tinted moisturizer.

And eyeshadow. Rhiannon needed eyeshadow.

No ladies at the ranch would judge her if she went bare faced. And she had stopped worrying about impressing men with her appearance decades ago, not that she was around many men to impress these days. The eyeshadow added a much needed pop of color.

Rhiannon loved color. Yellow and orange in the sunset, blue in the sky, green grass in spring. The world looked awfully white lately, all that snow out there. Between her wake-up lamp and some pink eye shadow on her eyes, Rhiannon had confidence she’d make it through the winter.

At 5:15, Rhiannon’s phone dinged with a reminder. 5:30 appointment with Iniya. Her watch read 5:18 as she headed out the door. Her snowsuit and boots did enough to protect her from the winter wind on her walk to the rec center. She swiped her card for entrance and flicked on all the cozy lamps, but the air inside still felt cold against her cheeks. She headed for the thermostat just as the door behind her clicked open.

Making small talk, she squinted at the numbers on the digital screen. She set the damn thing to 72 degrees, but it still read 64.

Iniya bundled herself in a blanket as she told Rhiannon about her week. Rhiannon stayed attentive, as she always did in the session, even as she dragged the space heater from the closet. She made a mental note to report the issue to Billy. A good young man—if 38 counted as young—who led maintenance on the big buildings in town.

At 6:30, the end of Iniya’s session, her shoulders looked softer, eyes calmer. While Rhiannon knew she couldn’t save them all, girls like Iniya reminded her why she did this job. Why she loved this job.

When Iniya headed out, Rhiannon shot Billy a text. He wouldn’t reply until noon. He never replied until noon.

As such, Rhiannon printed out a notice. Something’s going on with the thermostat, ladies. Blankets are in the closet! She pinned it to the front door.

Glancing at her watch, reading 6:52, Rhiannon walked to the cafeteria next door. She chatted with a few women, a couple kids, as she spooned scrambled eggs and yogurt onto her plate. One of the ladies, Jaylynn, asked if Rhiannon had a moment. Rhiannon had made it to breakfast seven minutes earlier than usual, so she sat down at Jaylynn’s table. While they ate, Jaylynn told Rhiannon that juggling all her college work, alongside therapy, her mothering duties, and her job at the restaurant two towns over had taken a toll. She almost fell asleep on the way home last night.

“Well, you can’t drop out of school,” Rhiannon told her, rubbing a napkin against her lip. “And I don’t think you want to get rid of the kid, either.”

Jaylynn laughed. “He’s here for good, I’m afraid.”