Forget about it, King, he told himself. Try to move on.
So he listened to the sounds of the world around him as he walked, concentrating on nature. On normality. The buildings on either side grew further and further apart. Before long it was simply the asphalt beside him and scruffy brush all around. Nothing to do but follow the road, which twisted through uninhabited woods.
He thought briefly of the two men he had killed the night before, unable to keep his mind off it. Their bodies would soon decompose in the machine he’d left them in. Wildlife would find them. Or they would rot away. Neither image bothered him in the slightest. They had chosen to shoot at him. He hadn’t deliberately involved himself. He’d done nothing but retaliate.
He dwelled on the altercation, replaying it over and over again in his mind. Before he knew it a gravel path appeared ahead, just wide enough to fit a lane in each direction. It spiralled off into the forest. Sections of the woods had been cleared out to make room for houses. All small and plain and comfortable. Hipped roofs. Wide open yards. Pine trees on all sides.
Kate Cooper was number twelve.
King set off down the path. His boots crunched over the gravel surface, making more noise than the asphalt. It was so quiet in these parts. He felt as if his footfalls were disturbing the residents. Every now and then a bird call would break the silence. Apart from that it was nothing but the sound of his own shoes scuffing against the gravel and the soft whirring of crickets and grasshoppers in the surrounding forest.
There was no-one in their yards. King wondered what these people did with their lives. They weren’t farmers, and it seemed like that was the only thing anyone did around here. Maybe these were the homes of the store-owners.
Maybe one of these houses was Billy’s.
A car sat idly in the driveway of number twelve. King checked the letterbox to see if he had the right place before he approached the front door. He took a look at the vehicle as he passed. Another sedan, similar to Billy’s, this one a Subaru. Another beat-up vehicle on the throes of collapse. King couldn’t remember the last new car he’d seen. Not since the city, which he had left weeks ago.
He stepped up onto the deck and rapped on the door three times, short and sharp. He heard a sudden bustling inside. It seemed he had startled someone.
There was a long pause, longer than it usually takes for someone to answer the door. He waited patiently. He assumed it was odd to have unannounced visitors around these parts. Strangers were rare. Everyone knew everyone.
Finally, he heard the sound of a latch sliding. The door swung open a crack. He could see the chain still firmly attached, preventing an intruder from forcing their way inside. One could never be too cautious. A woman’s face appeared in the gap.
Kate Cooper.
She was slim. Somewhat tall for a woman, maybe five-ten. Five-eleven even. In person she was even more attractive than the brief glimpse King had seen on the cameras. Brown hair, shoulder-length, a freckled nose, skin slightly pale, deep green eyes. He remembered Billy mentioning something about her being from England.
‘Can I help you?’ she said, her accent slightly British.
Her voice was assertive. Confident. King admired that. Through the narrow slit of the door he could see her standing with her chest stuck out. Not timid. Like she was the one in control. Impressive, considering a six-foot-three stranger had just come knocking on her door.
‘Afternoon, ma’am,’ he said.
‘Ma’am?’ she said. ‘What’s ma’am? Who calls people ma’am anymore? Who are you? What do you want?’
For a split second King hesitated, taken aback. ‘Well, I’m awfully sorry. Just wanted to be polite so you didn’t get any bad ideas.’
‘Bad ideas?’
‘I’m a stranger.’
‘No shit.’
King couldn’t help smiling a little. ‘Straight to the chase. I like it. Anyway, are you Kate Cooper?’
Silence. The door stayed firmly where it was.
‘Hello?’ King said.
‘I heard you.’
‘Oh, that’s good. Are you going to answer?’
‘Yes, I’m Kate Cooper. Once again, who are you?’
‘I’m Jason King. I’m a tourist, passing through here. Anyway, I was at the post office earlier this morning and I…’
The door slammed shut in his face.
CHAPTER 13
At that moment, King knew he was onto something. The very mention of the post office had caused an instantaneous reaction. He considered leaving. Kate clearly didn’t care for a conversation.
But this was too significant to just let go. Four men were dead already.
‘Kate!’ King yelled at the door. ‘This is serious! Open the door right now.’
‘Fuck off!’ she yelled back, her voice muffled. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘I don’t know what you’re so hostile about!’
‘Go away!’
‘Do you want me to get the police involved? I’m just looking for an explanation.’
‘I’ll get the police involved right now. I’m calling the station as we speak.’
‘How do you think they’ll react when I tell them four men are dead from what you did?’
There was no reply. King waited on the porch, poised, ready for the door to open and Kate to comply. But no such event occurred. In fact after thirty consecutive seconds of silence he heard the sound of the back door swinging open.
‘Son of a bitch,’ he muttered.
He took off in a run along the porch. Kate’s house sat in the centre of a wide lot, which meant the deck looped all the way round the structure. He rounded the corner at breakneck speed and made it to the rear of the house in seconds.
Too late.
Kate had retreated to the opposite side of the patio deck. There was enough outdoor furniture in the space between them to make reaching her a cumbersome task. Wooden bench seats surrounded a glass table in the middle and a lattice trellis covered in vines blocked the way. If he charged at her she would have more than enough time to escape. She had a cellphone pressed against her ear, speaking rapidly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him and lowered the phone.
‘Police on their way,’ she said. ‘You’d better get out of here and leave me alone.’
‘Why?’ King said. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide. Police can ask me whatever they want. I’ll tell them the truth.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘The package you delivered to the post office.’
‘It was just a package. You’re talking about four people dying. You’re out of your mind.’
‘Hang on…’
Then King saw it. Fear in her eyes. At that moment everything clicked. She wasn’t part of this. She was just a messenger. Hired help. She thought he would blame her for said deaths, which she had no knowledge of.
‘Don’t kill me,’ she said, barely audible from the other end of the patio. ‘I did everything I was instructed to do.’
‘I’m not trying to kill you,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to help you. What are you so afraid of?’
‘You’re with them, aren’t you?’
‘With who?’
Before she could respond, King heard the screeching of tyres and the squeal of a police siren from the end of the street. The noise scythed through the forest like a knife. An unnatural sound for these parts.