Page 100 of Kill For Me Kill For You
Amanda
Amanda woke in a warm bed in an unfamiliar room.
Floral wallpaper, the scent of lavender on her pillow. The morning broke through the gaps in the shades, throwing rectangles of light onto the white sheets. Jess’s toy unicorn lay on the pillow beside her.
She was in Billy’s spare room, in his little house in Queens. She could hear music playing downstairs. Country music.
She showered, picked out some fresh clothes. The smell of fried bacon drifted up to her room as she was drying her hair with a towel. Amanda put on jeans and a white sweater, went downstairs.
The music she’d heard sounded more familiar as she reached the hallway. Dolly Parton. She didn’t mind it.
The house was small, but well cared for. She passed the open door of his study on her way to the kitchen and paused. Stepped inside. Oak-stained floors and dark wood wall panels. Watercolors of Celtic landscapes hung below brass lamps that threw warm light on the pictures. On Billy’s desk were notebooks, and a map of New York with red sharpie circles dotted around. Amanda tried to quickly count how many circles there were. A dozen, maybe more.
Last night, Amanda had told him about the other possible victims, and Billy had made notes. He must’ve mapped them out this morning.
‘You hungry?’ came a voice.
Amanda left the study, went into the kitchen.
‘I am now. I could smell that bacon a mile away.’
The kitchen was larger than she’d expected. She guessed the house had been extended at the rear. Billy wore a cooking apron over his gray shirt and blue slacks. He had a frying pan in one hand, and a spatula in the other. He placed two fried eggs on a plate next to strips of crispy bacon.
He seemed more animated to Amanda. As if having someone around, someone to look after, had lifted his spirits. He brought two plates of bacon and eggs to the dining table and placed them next to a pot of coffee and a rack of warm toast.
‘Thank you,’ said Amanda.
As she ate, she watched him wash his hands, strip off his apron and hang it carefully on a hook behind the door. Then he came over and poured coffee for both of them.
‘Good?’ he asked.
‘Amazing,’ said Amanda as she crunched through the bacon.
‘I’m not much of a cook, I’m afraid. Lucille, well, she did most of the cooking around the house.’
‘Well, you’ve mastered breakfast at least.’
‘How’s the knee?’
‘A lot better. The heat packs and gel are working.’
‘Any more calls from the cops?’ he asked.
She shook her head.
‘Good. If the phone rings, don’t answer. We’ve got an important meeting this morning. How do you feel about going to Sing Sing? You ever been there before?’
‘No. What’s it like?’
‘I went there a few years ago to visit an old buddy of mine from the service. I won’t lie – it’s scary. I spent most of my life on dirt-floored marine bases and naval ships. Living with thirteen-hundred soldiers is no picnic. But that place, it’s, well, it’s not like the military. When you go through security, into the visitors’ area, and you hear all those steel doors clanging shut behind you . . . it’s unnerving. And I don’t scare easy.’
Amanda took a sip of coffee, put her cup down and said, ‘I’m sure it’ll be okay. We just need to think about how we’re going to handle it.’
Billy buttered his toast and said, ‘It’s not going to be a walk in the park.’
‘What makes you think he’ll talk to us in the first place?’ asked Amanda.
He lifted a slice of toast to his mouth, paused and looked at Amanda.
