“Um, yes, sorry, Wea—I mean Mr. Weaver. I’m here. I just… It’s a lot to digest.”
“Of course. If you have some free time tomorrow afternoon, please meet me at the place you found our mutual friend. I promise no harm will come to you.”
“I’m… Um… I mean no offence Mr. Weaver, but… Um…”
He laughed softly. “I understand your hesitation. I give you my word, if you choose not to come, I’ll be disappointed but I will understand. Either way, I promise no harm will come to you at my hand.”
“I’ll think about it, Mr. Weaver.”
“I appreciate your time, Miss Hayes. Have a wonderful night, I hope to meet you tomorrow.”
4
THE VOLUNTEER
I decided to go.Maybe that made me an idiot, but what did I have to lose? None of the kids had ever asked to meet The Weaver, but that could just be because they didn’t know it was an option. One of the older girls, Sasha, at the hospital on 55thfollowed all of his news stories. He’d apparently rescued her mother from a would-be assailant two years ago.
After he hung up, I stayed up most of the night looking through his…resumé. All of his victims were men—not a single woman or child. Over 90% were men with criminal records.
After an hour, I realized The Weaver only went after men who went after women. The 10% without criminal records were the ones he killed, and they were all guys who hadmultiplerape allegations the police never did anything about. The more I read about The Weaver, the more I started to like him. I totally understood why Sasha kept up with his stories. Even if they were…disturbing.
But I was still terrified.
I was sitting on one of the black vinyl high-top stools that were neatly tucked under the Crossroads’ polished oak bar. I’d never come inside here before, only watched through the large window next to the door. It was different from this angle, in the daylight.
Crossroads was separated into two sections—the bar area and the pool table area. There were small round high-top tables scattered through both sections with two to four seats tucked under them. Every single one was currently occupied, even though it was 3 p.m. Was I shocked? No. Had I hoped it would be a little less crowded? Definitely.
It was overwhelming. I didn’t do well in loud places with crowds this big. Luckily, I was sitting at the far side of the bar next to the wall that separated this space from the pool table area, because most people were crowding around the middle to get the bartender’s attention. Still, with every passing second I could feel my anxiety rising—or maybe my irregular heart beat had to do with the music blaring through the speakers.
A group of guys were standing near the middle of the bar, trying (failing miserably) to get the bartender’s number. I could see why they’d try; she was absolutely stunning. Black hair,green eyes, arms and chest covered in tattoos, tanned skin, perfectly curvy.
She ignored them and made her way down the bar to me, much to the guys’ dismay. She gave me a warm smile.
“Sorry, hun, I missed you coming in. Can I get you anything?” She leaned over the counter, raising her voice above the music.
“Um… I… Um…” Great. Hot girls, hot guys, didn’t matter. I still couldn’t put a coherent thought together. “Yes, please.”Good start let’s keep that going.“Tequila. Please.”
She laughed, grabbing a remote from the counter behind her. The music dropped down to a more acceptable level. Finally, I could hear myself think.
“Do you have a brand preference? One shot? Two? Mixed?”
“I’m sorry, you’re really pretty and that seems to have short-circuited my brain. Brand doesn’t matter, three shots ’cause clearly I need them.”
“Coming right up.” She smiled, pulled out three shot glasses then placed them on the bar before cracking open a bottle. “You new to the area? I’ve never seen you in here.”
“No, I’ve been here six years. I mostly just go straight from home to work back to home. It’s…well you know how the area can be.”
She nodded, finishing the final glass. “So you were here when…?”
The incident.
“No. Well, yes and no. I was out of town when…thathappened.”
That was a lie, but I wasn’t going to get into that with a stranger.
“Well, you’re lucky. Or unlucky. I guess it depends on what side you ended up on.” She pushed the shots to me.
“I’m going to say lucky.” I downed the first one, cringing lightly. “I mean, 14.13% chance of superpowers…unlikely.”
