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“I don’t remember that name; I remember every name that crosses me.”
“Then he’s as much a mystery as you are.” Now she smiles at me, and I can see the real her inside. She isn’t a killer. She doesn’t want to be.
Chapter 8
Kyla
I’m going stir-crazy. I can’t handle sitting in this house much longer. It’s driving me insane.
“We’re moving.” I look up from the paper I was reading to see Mystic standing with his arms crossed over his chest in front of me.
“Where are we going?”
“Anywhere but here. I can’t think straight here. It’s too much,” he confesses. I get it. I understand what he’s saying. There are too many memories attached to his wife and daughter here.
“Where to?” I ask.
“I have a beach house. No one knows about it. It was supposed to be a surprise for my wife,” he explains. I nod my head, understanding.
“When can I go, Mystic?” I watch him shift from foot to foot before his arms fall to his sides. Then his face is replaced by a mask of anger.
“When I say you can go.”
“What’s this about?”
“This is about me finding the answers I need,” he answers.
“I told you I’d give you the information,” I remind him. He nods his head, a slight smirk curling his lips.
“Yeah. So I’ve heard.”
“You don’t believe me?” Now I’m on my feet in front of him with my arms crossed over my chest.
“I didn’t say that. I just haven’t seen shit since you’ve been here,” he shoots back at me.
“I’ve been here a month, Mystic. For a month, you’ve been holding me hostage, or at least that’s how I sometimes feel. You said a week, maybe two. It’s been four. Now tell me what the hell I’m still doing here!” I snap at him. There’s a reason I’m still here. A reason he hasn’t given me what I need to move on. Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted him.
“Maybe I like having you here.” Hearing the words leave his mouth has my head spinning. What the hell does that mean? He doesn’t like having me here. “Do you know what it’s like to be alone, Kyla?”
“Yeah, it’s nice. No one to fuck with you.”
“No. It’s hell. It’s fucking hell on earth because when you’re alone, everything, and I mean everything, comes back to haunt your fucking dreams.”
“Your dreams are already haunted, Mystic. There’s nothing I can do to stop that.” I see the look in his eyes. I hear how he cries out in his sleep almost every night. He sees the same thing I see. His loved ones being shot, falling to the floor, dead. I have the same fucking nightmare, just from a different vantage point.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I am right. Now you want to move, let’s move, but you promised me you’d help me get out of here.”
“You think they’d find you here?”
“If they show back up like they plan to, maybe. I don’t really know anymore.”
“And if they don’t?”
“What is this? What do you want from me?” Then I see the look in his eyes. I see the pain, the fear all over again. I shake my head. “I can’t replace them.”
“You’ve helped me.”
