No Home for Killers by E.A. Aymar

Author:E.A. Aymar [Aymar, E.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2023-02-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Emily closed the window behind her. And noticed her sister wasn’t exactly excited to see her.

“What happened after I left last night?” Melinda asked. “What happened to Rebecca?”

“They killed her.”

Emily told her about hiding in the ventilator shaft, the gunshot, Victor Winters viciously murdering his own man. About hitting Victor in the face with her baton and escaping.

And Emily told Melinda how, after running from the storage building, she had returned to her apartment but made the decision not to go inside. It wouldn’t take much for the Winters clan to figure out which apartment was connected to that storage unit. In fact, they might already know. Men could be inside, waiting for her to return.

But her Civic was alone on the street. She glanced up and down the block, looked at the dark buildings on either side. Didn’t see anyone watching her. Emily had pulled her keys out of her handbag, slipped in. Started the engine and drove deep into the city.

Emily hadn’t let herself think about Rebecca as she drove. She kept her eyes on the cars around her, staying vigilant, even if she wasn’t exactly sure where she was going.

She’d arrived at Anacostia Park, pulled into a small lot that looked out to the river. Water sparkled from city lights. Occasional headlights passed over a near bridge.

She shut off the engine. The rear windows of the Civic were tinted and impossible to see in without daylight, and she felt safer lying in the back than the front. She had spent the night in her car’s cramped back seat, somewhere in the confusion between asleep and awake. Flashes of violence angrily yanking her out of dreams.

“You really saw her die?” Melinda asked.

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

“I think I was in shock afterward, but I’m okay. I just feel so bad for Rebecca.”

Something about that didn’t seem right with Melinda. Emily could tell she was bothered, as if examining a painting of the sky with the wrong hue of blue.

“Emily, in your work . . . in what you do, have you ever killed anyone?”

“No,” Emily said resolutely. “And I never would.”

“But you find people and attack them. They could die.”

“I don’t take it that far.” Emily realized what her sister was saying. “Do you think I killed Rebecca?”

“You just don’t seem that bothered by it. And I worked with people who went through trauma. It’s not this easy to recover unless you’re still in shock.” Melinda paused. “It’s hard to tell with you.”

“It’s not easy,” Emily said, heat under her voice. “I felt Rebecca’s body, Mel. I had her blood on my hands. And then I had to escape because a pack of murderers were trying to find me. None of this was easy.”

Melinda nodded. She’d just needed, Emily understood, to see that deeper emotion. To see what, if anything, was under the surface.

To lift the mask.

“I think they know who I am,” Emily went on. “The Winterses. That’s why I couldn’t go back to my apartment. I couldn’t take the chance.

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