This room was twice as big. It was the master bedroom. The woman’s room. His synapses fired with extra intensity as he crossed the doorway.
Hunting was what he truly lived for . . . it was what kept him from exploding daily in uncontrolled environments. It’s what helped him maintain a mask of normalcy in his daily life. Hunting was truly the only thing he ever looked forward to. He hungered for it like others hungered for food.
Hunting made him who he wished he was . . . for a while.
Who he pretended to be.
It was the only thing that made him feel truly alive.
He moved deeper into the room and found the woman sleeping on top of her covers. He stepped closer and inhaled her scent. Catching a hint of a flowery lotion, he bent closer and tried to decipher the odor beneath it. To know what her skin smelled like beneath all of the fake flowers. But the lotion was too strong.
Tilting his head, he watched her for a long while as she breathed. Excitement building, he considered clamping his hand against her mouth. To immobilize her and—
No . . . not now.
After all, he was already feeling more relaxed. He felt exhilarated, but calm. Just knowing that killing her was within his power had brought him a little relief, albeit temporary—just as it had with Hope.
The thought popped into his mind again. Maybe, just maybe, he really had evolved over the years and he could get by with just stalking them this time. Medicating himself solely with the thrill of anticipation. Hunting them, then letting them go. Like fisherman did with fish: catch and release.
Maybe, just maybe, he could feed his addiction without risking losing HER.
Could it really be possible?
Maybe, he thought, deciding to be cautiously optimistic.
Blinking rapidly, he watched the woman sleep for several minutes and vowed to try. He bent down close to her again until he was just a few inches from her skin and committed her scent to memory.
Then he forced himself to leave the room.
CHAPTER 21
THE SUN HAD only been up a couple of hours when Allie wandered into the kitchen to the scent of coffee brewing and Miss Bitty, Big Joe, and Louis talking at the table. When they noticed her, they fell silent.
That morning she’d chosen one of her new shorts outfits and had spent some time French braiding her hair. She’d also applied the makeup Miss Bitty had bought her and was careful to tone it down because the old woman had told her that the way she wore it made her look cheap. Instead of her usual cherry-red lipstick, she’d chosen an understated lip gloss. Instead of slathering on the black eyeliner like she usually did, she only used a little brown.
The old woman said she saw good in her. And that gave Allie hope. She still didn’t trust Miss Bitty completely, but she was trying to. After all, the woman could be planning to use her as an indentured servant and it still wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the life Allie had lived. As a thank-you to the old woman for forgiving her and letting her stay, Allie had dressed more conservatively. And she must’ve succeeded because she saw a glint of approval in Miss Bitty’s eyes.
“You get a makeover?” Big Joe asked. “You look . . . fantastic.”
Well, not exactly fantastic, but better, maybe, she thought.
“Yes, you look very lovely,” Miss Bitty agreed.
Miss Bitty finally stood and grabbed a pitcher. “Well, don’t just stand there. Come, sit.”
Her face burning beneath everyone’s still-appraising eyes, Allie sat where Miss Bitty had been sitting and concentrated on the juice pouring into her glass.
“Freshly squeezed spinach, celery, apple. Soon to be one of your morning chores.” Bitty winked.
Chores. She’d never had chores before. The previous evening, Miss Bitty had explained what was going to be expected of her. On top of being responsible for a number of daily chores, Allie was going to help Bitty with client paperwork. The old woman had even found her a job: cashiering at a supermarket, two shifts a week.
Allie had never had a job before either—at least, not a legitimate one that came with a paycheck. The idea made her both anxious and excited.
She was also going to be homeschooled. “You’ll start your tutoring with Louis this morning, girlie,” Miss Bitty said, setting a binder, three notebooks, and a box of pens in front of her.
Allie nodded, her eyes on the school supplies. Everything was colorful, brand-new.
“You like math, Allie?” Louis asked.
“Uh, I’m not sure.”
He grinned. “Well, I hope so because that’s where we’re going to start today.”
“Okay.” She tried to smile—something she hadn’t done for a long time. The effort made her face feel like it was splitting in two.
An hour later, Allie pushed a completed assessment test across the kitchen table.
She watched Louis, who was pacing in front of the window, alternately gazing into the yard and typing on his iPhone—and thought of how quickly things had changed.
Just hours ago, she’d been certain life was pointless, and just days ago she had tried to kill herself. Now, it seemed that things were looking up in a way she never could have imagined. It was as though she were living someone else’s life. It certainly didn’t seem like something that could happen to her.
But it was happening.
Well, wasn’t it?
Her mother had always told her to be suspicious of generosity, that nothing was truly ever free. But maybe she’d been wrong.
Louis looked up. “That was fast.”
Allie shrugged.
Her assessment tests that morning had been surprisingly easy despite the fact that she hadn’t attended school in years. Even though she had hated school, she had always loved to learn. In fact, since becoming old enough to read, she had read everything she could get her hands on.
Louis picked up her test and made some marks. A minute later, he looked up. “At this rate, it looks—”