Page 70 of Long Pig

“The washer is through that door,” he nodded toward the end of the kitchen. “Your jeans and T-shirt are in the basket, still dirty, if you want to start a load. When it’s done, you can hang them on the wire rack that folds out.”

She didn’t say anything and simply turned to the door he’d motioned at. He heard the washer start a few minutes later. The door closed behind her when she walked out and cut off the washing machine sound.

“Do you mind if I look through the kitchen and see what I can make for dinner?”

He thought about the knives he always kept sharp, and then shrugged the thought aside. The sweats had no pockets, and it would be hard to hide a weapon. The rifle was unloaded, and his handgun was on his hip.

“The pantry is in there. Go through the fridge and freezer, too. The only meat I have is in the freezer downstairs.”

Their eyes met. “I can’t eat what you have downstairs; please don’t make me.”

He stood and walked towards her, placing a hand on her arm. She jumped slightly, but didn’t pull away.

“I won’t make you eat what’s in the freezer downstairs. You have my word.”

She exhaled, and her eyes softened. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He pulled his hand back, unsure what to do with it now. Her skin was so soft and still warm from the shower. He itched to touch her.

“After you decide what we’re having, would you like to go for a walk?”

For the first time, she gave him a large smile. “I would. I don’t like to be cooped up. It’s been very hard for me.”

He wanted to tell her it had been hard for him, too, but he didn’t.

“I’m making Spanish rice with a salad if that sounds good to you,” she said a few minutes later.

“I’ve never had Spanish rice, but I’ll try anything once. I picked up a pair of walking shoes for you. They’re cheap, but it was all they had available in town. We won’t go far, and you can test to be sure they don’t leave blisters.”

He left the room and returned with a pair of his socks and the shoes. They left the house a few minutes later.

“I like to walk down the rise. There’s a path if you go that way,” he said. They walked about two hundred yards before he spoke again. “Did your father kill your mother, or did you?”

Stopping, Willow turned and looked at him, her eyes alight with something that could be pleasure. “I don’t remember. Pieces have come through in dreams, mostly. They had different head shrinks working on me for years. It messed up the memories. My father’s blood and brain matter covered me, so I know I killed him.”

“I think you killed your mother, too. I burned my parents’ house down with them inside when I was twenty. I remember every detail, though I was unable to watch them die.”

She turned and looked at his property. “I wished I had thought to burn the house down,” she said quietly.

They continued their walk without speaking. Butch began working silently on long-term plans. Maybe they should move out of state. It was dangerous to keep Willow this close to people who knew her. But he could never sell his property. If theyleft the house vacant, someone could stumble across his burial ground.

Maybe Willow would agree to stay on the property and live upstairs with him. There was only the one bedroom. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but fate would play its hand, and Butch would follow.

He enjoyed the Spanish rice that night. The smell had permeated the air since she started cooking. The rice had the perfect blend of spices, and even without meat, it was satisfying. He wasn’t a salad person, but he ate his to please her. She didn’t say much during dinner. He liked that. After living alone for so long, a chatty person wouldn’t work.

He took her downstairs after they drank a cup of coffee to prolong the evening. Her feet dragged as they got closer to the cold room.

“I won’t put the chain on you tonight. The smell should be better. The exhaust has been running all day.”

She accepted her fate without argument. He would watch her closely throughout the night. There were dangerous tools she could use as weapons.

But Butch didn’t think she would. When their eyes met before he walked out, they mirrored each other’s.

They were two of a kind. Two wielders of death.

Though he didn’t want to, he left her in the dark.

Chapter Forty-Seven