Page 82 of How To Catch A Killer … And Date His Best Friend

Hunter scoffs and manages to look offended. “A seven is generous.”

“It’s absolutely a seven,” she argues.

“It’s barely a five,” he says.

We spend another twenty minutes arguing about vehicles, storage space, fuel economy, and why Hunter insists black is the only acceptable color for a car. I don’t realize how long we’ve been here until I check the time. “Shit. The meeting,” I say. “We’re late.”

Lyra gapes at me. “How could we be late? It doesn’t start until four.”

We all start heading out of the lot and across the road toward Hunter’s Challenger. “Because you spent fifteen minutes demonstrating how efficiently you could shove a woman into a trunk.”

“A woman,” she agrees. “I think I would struggle with a man. I gotta hit the gym.”

Hunter spares her a glance as we reach his car, and Lyra glances back at the lot. “You know, realistically, that black SUV is probably the best option.”

I nod. “Good trunk.”

“Excellent trunk,” Hunter muses as he shifts into gear and takes off.

I sigh. “Not the best sex appeal.”

It only takes a few minutes to drive to city hall, and as we pull up, we find the place overflowing with what looks like half of Onyx Heights.

Everyone is here. Elderly couples. Business owners. Parents. People who suddenly care deeply about local politics because a killer has started decorating the city with corpses.

People are hovering out front protesting with signs that read: Our town is not a hunting ground, and my particular favorite, This killer is killing my sex life.

I feel bad for the guy. But then, maybe I don’t.

I laugh as we climb out of the Challenger and make our way toward the door. People are everywhere, but for the most part, it looks as though they’ve just started going in.

We walk through the protestors, and as Lyra and Hunter make their way through the door, I find myself pausing and glancing toward the colorful signs. “Hey,” I say to Hunter and Lyra. “Save me a seat.”

Hunter glances back. “Huh?”

I point toward one of the signs that’s been discarded on the ground. “I need to do my part for my community.”

He rolls his eyes and turns back, placing a hand at Lyra’s lower back to lead her through the door as I collect the sign that reads: Onyx Heights: voted safest city before your bitch ass showed up. I hold it high above my head and join the angry mob, waving my sign around as though we were from the 1800s chasing vampires with pitchforks and fire.

I join in with the chanting.

“OUR TOWN IS NOT A HUNTING GROUND.”

“OUR TOWN IS NOT A HUNTING GROUND.”

Fuck, I feel good about myself.

I don’t stop until I hear the mayor from inside the hall, calling for attention, and as if on cue, the forty or so people outside all put their signs down and start filing in through the door while patting each other on the back for a job well done.

I smile and nod as I’m congratulated. If only they knew.

“Thank you,” I say after being congratulated again. “Just trying to do what little I can to protect our city. A strong sense of community is what’s going to get us through this.” I fist pump the air. “OUR TOWN IS NOT A HUNTING GROUND.”

People cheer from all around and join in as the mayor hollers for us to calm down, but I slip away from the chaos to find Hunter and Lyra sitting near the back. I take my seat beside her and watch the mayor try to get the people under control, and by the time he does, I’m just about ready for a snack.

“You guys hungry?” I murmur, leaning toward Lyra.

Hunter stares at me. “You just ate two burgers and three servings of fries at that diner.”