Page 69 of Long Pig

Butch smiled faintly, as if recalling fond memories. He reached up to slice through the tendon at the joint, explaining what he was doing while he worked. A sound like tearing fabric filled the room.

Willow’s nails pressed into her palms hard enough to sting. The sting helped. She focused on her breathing. He glanced at her often, and he would notice if she flinched.

She gave him nothing.

The knife slid again. Flesh parted giving way with horrifying sounds. Butch began humming, a low, tuneless tone that made the hair on her neck rise. Then he used a saw.

When he glanced at her again, she forced her lips into what might pass as a polite expression. Not quite a smile. Just a small acknowledgment.

“You’re doing fine,” he said approvingly, using a cloth to wipe off the saw blade. He appeared almost proud of her.

Her throat burned from holding back bile.

He went back to his work, and she allowed herself the smallest breath of relief. Her pulse still hammered in her chest, and she felt lightheaded. She masked it by clasping her hands in her lap and thinking about training Max.

A knife rose again and Willow kept watching. If she looked away now, she would scream. He made neat stacks of meat, naming each cut. They were all Deputy Wallard but Butch displayed them like his father must have done at the butcher shop.

???

Steam filled the small bathroom, softening the sharp smell of bleach that lingered in the grout. Willow turned the handle until the water ran hot, almost scalding, and stepped beneath it. The first touch burned her skin, but she didn’t move away. She wanted it to burn. She wanted it to wash everything off: from the smell and sound to the sight of him mutilating Deputy Wallard.

Water streamed down her face and hair. She imagined that it contained blood and body fluid that pooled at her feet, swirling pink before disappearing down the drain. But the water only washed away the illusion.

She braced her palms against the tile and bowed her head. Her body shook from the effort to stay quiet. He might hear if she broke down completely.

Her breath came in shallow bursts, trapped between sobs she wouldn’t let escape. The heat blurred her vision, turned the world into a shimmer of white and sound. She pressed her forehead against the tile, willing herself to stop shaking.

Don’t make noise. Don’t let him hear. He’ll know you’re weak.

She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. Tears mingled with the water and were gone before she could wipe them away. Her thoughts came in flashes: the body, the smell, the look of satisfaction on Butch’s malicious face.

Her knees gave out, and she slid down the wall until she was crouched on the wet tile. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked to a silent rhythm while she tried to keep herself from splintering completely.

When the water began to cool, she forced herself up, turned the handle off, and stood still in the sudden quiet. Her skin prickled, the silence louder than the spray had been.

She wiped her face with trembling hands and looked in the small mirror above the sink. The woman staring back didn’t look like her. Eyes red, cheeks hollow, a stranger trying to remember how to breathe.

Willow took one last shuddering breath, then straightened her shoulders. She had to be composed when she stepped out that door.

She had to keep feeding the evil inside Butch that kept her alive.

Chapter Forty-Six

Wielders of Death

Butch

While she showered, Butch used his phone as a hotspot and connected his laptop to the internet. He read her story in rapt fascination. She murdered her father with a baseball bat. Her confession to the police said the man lay defenseless on the floor when she killed him. She was never charged with the death of her mother, but the possibility was there if you read between the lines. He enlarged the images of Willow as a young girl and could see the resemblance to the woman she was now.

A killer like him.

The shower stopped running.

He could worship this woman and teach her everything he knew. His kills had grown boring, but having her with him would change everything. She’d flinched a time or two while he cut up the deputy’s body. He’d have been surprised if she hadn’t, but mostly he read curiosity in her eyes.

Eventually, she would eat what they hunted. He knew it.

She walked out of the shower dressed in the second pair of sweats he’d purchased. These were light green and not very flattering. They would shop for something new soon. It wouldn’t happen in Arizona, but he would take her out of state and buy her everything she needed.