Redemption by Meghan O'Flynn

Author:Meghan O'Flynn [O'Flynn, Meghan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, Fiction, Hard-Boiled, Mystery & Detective, Noir, Psychological, Suspense, thriller
ISBN: 9781947748996
Google: wa8_DwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B077P2PJG9
Publisher: Pygmalion Publishing
Published: 2017-09-08T23:00:00+00:00

18

I HAD, at some point, grabbed mushrooms from the refrigerator drawer. I had, at some point, managed to get out a frying pan. But every action I took was being done outside of me—the only real thing was Petrosky’s worried eyes in my mind. I could still see his jowly face. The way he’d looked sorry, like he was concerned about me. The way he’d narrowed his eyes when we first met, like we had known one another forever.

From the butcher block in front of me, the handles glinted dully, and I paused for a moment and traced the cool steel before yanking out a paring knife, the sharpest blade we had. That woke me up. Pretty sure even my subconscious recognized that operating a blade while being a zombie was a bonehead idea, especially with my track record. I set to work slicing the mushrooms into haphazard chunks, trying not to compare the way the skin split to the way Dominic’s flesh had ripped under the scalpel. Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them back and tossed butter into the pan.

The knife sliced cleanly through the onions too, the aroma burning my eyes and blurring my vision. Onions were by far the jerkiest of vegetables. “Assholes,” I muttered, trying to put my focus there instead, on my anger at the food, knowing it would give me an out if Neil came back from the bathroom and saw my red eyes and damp face. “I’m not crying” I’d say. “Just cutting onions.” Those smelly punks.

I choked back a sob and dumped them into the pan to kill their stink.

What am I doing?

Murdering vegetables.

Why am I here in Willowshire?

You’re a fucking idiot.

I brought the knife down again, harder than necessary, and it was therapeutic somehow, the way the zucchini cracked open, baring its insides for all to see. My forearm shuddered and shook from the frayed nerves.

I should have gotten that wound checked. Then my hand would still work.

Like it worked the night you killed your boyfriend.

I grabbed the counter, dizziness pulling at me and gnawing my vision out of focus like a deranged beaver had taken up residence behind my eye sockets. This wasn’t a nerve thing—it was probably the lack of oxygen in my blood. Or maybe I just needed to leave. Pack up my things and go.

You’ll be running forever, Hannah.

I’d be running until I was dead. Or eventually they’d catch me. I needed a solution—a chance to clear up the mess I had gotten myself into. A chance to stop running and settle down and actually live a life instead of hiding from one.

I need to call Petrosky.

Like he can protect you.

So far he hadn’t handcuffed me. Maybe he won’t. But Petrosky’s eyes flashed in my brain. There was no statute of limitations on murder. And one day they’d find Julie’s killer—Petrosky would have no problem taking me in then.

“Smells good.”

The knife clattered to the counter and I stared at my hand, at the narrow strip of skin I’d filleted from my palm.

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