Page 16

CHAPTER 16

REDLEY

The truck’s paint job has faded from red to nearly orange over the years, and I stomp across the gravel parking lot back to her. The Appalachians stack in the distance, misty and green, climbing into the sky like the earth wanted to get a little closer to God. I kick it up to a run, desperate to get home, to get the hell away from the constant rejections and assumptions. I am not insane.

Before I climb in, I toss the half-open backpack onto the passenger seat. I have a knife in there, and part of me wishes I’d used it rather than flirting. After being ignored and called crazy for so long, I want people to fear me. I’d maybe even like to hurt some of them. The idea of that power trills through me. I know it’s not healthy that I’m starting to develop a taste for violence, but that doesn’t change the fact I am. Maybe I’ve just been powerless for far too long.

This was another wash, but at least I didn’t have to spend the night in a cell like last night. We head downhill on a real paved road and pass a school that I’m sure receives taxes and grants, things that help the kids learn. Grimm Groves isn’t all that far, but we don’t get any of that same treatment. From my current elevation, the backside of my mountain is just visible, far in the distance. The beauty of it breaks my heart. It’s not meant to be haunted.

My mind wanders as I drive, and soon enough, I’m pulling back into Grimm Groves. The town hasn’t changed much since I was a teen, except that Bobby’s married, and a whole new crop of families have turned up to give The Wolf more opportunities to kill. There are nearly thirty kids at the school this year, and rather than feeling pleased that we’re coming up in the world, I’m terrified about which one is next to go and how the hell they’re going to get any supplies.

Bobby never did wind up believing the stories, and at this point, he thinks I’m criminally insane. Maybe he’s right, but at least his wife has to deal with his pointy tongue and not me.

I pull up outside the trading post and head inside for some chicken feed. Daniel, who runs the place, stands behind the counter. We’re the same age and spent years in school together. Like everyone around here, I know him far better than I’d like to. One time, when we were nine, he stabbed me with a pencil, but despite the lead scar, I’m not holding grudges.

He acts like he’s a boring type of guy, and he doesn’t often have much to say that isn’t about his business, but he’s weirder than he lets on. Stabby little fucker. His daddy passed this position off to him a couple of years ago, and now I see him nearly every day again.

“Been gone a few days,” he comments as I step up to the counter with a sack in my arms, proving my thoughts correct. Why is he watching where I am?

“Was talking to law enforcement.” I don’t see any point in lying. I’m already the crazy lady around here, and public opinion isn't much better for him.

“Moonshiner goes to the cops. That’s a first,” he snarks.

“Not a moonshiner, Daniel. Just trying to stop a damn killer. What are you doing today? Let me guess, standing there?”

I slap the money on the counter.

“Red’s in a mood,” he comments as he picks it up and counts.

“Spent last night in jail, Daniel. Not feeling awful friendly.”

He hoots and laughs as I turn and leave with my sack of corn.

Almost an hour later, I’m back home. I head out to the coop, toss the chickens some feed, change out their water, and collect their eggs while cooing to them about what good girls they are. They’re sweet birds, and I’m not sure what it says about me that I’m so fond of them. I eat a lot of eggs, and truthfully, I don’t mind the simplicity. I pick up a few feathers before I head inside to add to my collection of the prettiest ones.

The chickens came home with me when I moved back last year, so Granny never got to enjoy them. It’s hard not to think of her and everything she missed out on each time I step through the front door. Time and practice are making it easier, but not all right. I pile the eggs on the table and then take a quick look around the house to ensure there aren’t any intruders.

I’m alone, which is true in many more ways than one, and I’m finally forced to think about why I tried to run again to begin with—the Wolf’s offer, threat, whatever the hell it was.

I don’t think he’s been here since he left the ring, but I would be stupid not to check. I’m starving half to death with a day passing since I last ate. The woodstove has gone out with more than a day left unattended, and I curse myself before getting it going again and tossing in a new log. A while later, I’m scarfing down fried eggs, burning myself as I swallow them.

The anniversary of Granny’s death fast approaches, and my garden is faring better this year. I might even have enough food for two this time between the eggs and the vegetables, not that it matters anymore. It hurts that the last thing to happen between us was a whooping, and that she never lived long enough to see justice served.

Little pieces of my time away line the cabin, and each one carries a bittersweet punch. Polaroids of the few friends I made, a couple of paychecks from jobs I liked, and tickets from concerts. I had a lot of fun while I was free and pretending this wasn’t my cross to bear. I miss that life and can’t help but feel my time at home has been a waste.

In the past year, I haven’t gotten any closer to ending things, and the previous few days are just the cherry on top. The wolf has kept killing hard and fast. He’s let me chase him, always a step ahead. The ring is only a new and exciting element he’s trying to add to the mix. And dammit, he got what he wanted because he’s in my head.

My belly is finally full. All the driving, repeating myself, sleeping in a jail cell, and being accused of lying have worn me down to nothing, and I need to sleep. Walking to my room, I barely look at Granny's door as I open my own. I’ve cleared out some of her things when I needed to make a few bucks, but she was more of a pack rat than I ever could have imagined. I haven’t made much headway.

The same damn bed I found the Wolf in lies in the same corner, and I sit on it, trying not to think about the ring or his note. I definitely can’t admit that I’m afraid of those consequences he threatened me with. If I was right that this has all been a source of entertainment for him, it makes sense that the novelty has worn off. Tormenting me from the shadows while I take shots in the dark can’t stay exciting forever. What the hell does he really want from me? Because I know it’s not a partner and certainly not love.

I lean toward the window and close my curtain. I don’t mind the sun or anything, but I just don’t need the Wolf looking inside, and it’s been a couple of days since I’ve been home. I should scrub last night's jail cell off me, but I’m too tired. Instead, I lie down and close my eyes.

In a moment of weakness, I think about all the kindness the Wolf showed me before he killed Granny. My stomach fills with butterflies as I picture a world where I could accept his proposal and feel things like that all the time. I’m already half dreaming as I drift off.

The warm memory of his hand on my skin overwhelms me, and I’ll be ashamed of that as long as I live.