"Bullshit."
Matt opened his eyes to find Abbey staring at his face. Her gray eyes bored into his. She knew he was lying, but what could he tell her? He could see evil? That would go over well.
He sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
Abbey turned to look at Dale, who stood about twenty feet away chattering into the radio. Then she turned back to Matt and leaned in close, putting her lips right next to his ear. "I know better, Matt," she whispered. "You see them, too, don't you?"
"See what?" Matt asked, so low even he had trouble hearing the words.
"Them," Abbey said, pointing at Brad's corpse. "When they start to rot and fester. Just before something bad happens."
Matt couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak. Could she? Could she really?
"You can see it. Can't you?" she asked. "The evil. I thought I was the only one."
CHAPTER SIX
Matt and Abbey sat at a folding table in the back room of Abbey's Antiques, a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels between them. Matt's glass was empty, but Abbey's still had an inch of booze in it. She reached across the table and refilled his drink. Her hand shook a little, but whether it was from the alcohol or the events of the day, Matt didn't know.
"I still don't know how you convinced Dale to let me go," Matt said.
"And I don't plan on telling you," Abbey said. "So stop trying to get it out of me."
The officer had seemed determined to keep Matt in custody after he'd given his statement. Admittedly, Matt's statement was pretty weak, but he couldn't very well tell the truth. Then Abbey had intervened, taking Dale into a separate room. When they emerged, Dale said Matt was free to go, but warned him not to leave town in the next few days in case he was needed for more questioning. Matt assured him he would stay put, and then he and Abbey had left the place together, pushing through the throng of police, EMTs, and lookie-loos. On the way out, Matt could feel Dale's eyes boring into his back.
"Hang on," Abbey said. "I'm kind of a sugar junkie, especially when I drink." She reached into a drawer behind her and pulled out a plastic bag of candy. She reached into the bag and pulled out two lollipops, both red, and offered one to Matt. Seeing them brought Mr. Dark to Matt's mind, and he grimaced. Just the thought of sticking one of those things in his mouth almost made him gag.
"No thanks," he said. "Not big on sugar." Did she know about Mr. Dark? He'd have to find out.
"Suit yourself," she replied, and popped one into her mouth. She put the other back into the bag and shoved it back into the drawer. "So what's your story, Matt?" Abbey asked. "How is it that you can see what I see?"
Matt leaned back in his chair, trying to figure out the best way to answer. In the end, he settled on the truth. "In November of 2010, I was skiing with my girlfriend. The last thing I remember is being crushed by a mountain of snow. Next thing I knew, I was in a morgue and some guy was cutting into me with a scalpel."
"That must have been terrifying," Abbey said.
Matt nodded. "I'd been dead for months. They only found my body because of the spring thaw. Some little girl was building a snowman and—"
"Holy shit!" Abbey slammed her glass on the table, sloshing bourbon onto the tabletop. "You're that Matt Cahill?"
"You heard about it, huh?"
"It was all over the news. They called you a modern miracle."
"I guess." Matt finished his glass. "Never felt much like a miracle to me, though."
"No, I don't suppose it did." Abbey crunched into the lollipop and chewed the candy off the stick, which she tossed into the wastebasket. Then she lit a cigarette. The smoke curled lazily up towards the ceiling. Matt caught himself before he could make a comment about her obvious oral fixation and poured himself another glass of Jack, instead.
"So how about you?" he asked. "Did you die, too?"
"Not big on tact, are you?"
"Does it matter?" Matt replied.
"It might. Later." Abbey winked.
"Tell me."
For a moment she looked like she might, but then she shook her head. "Not right now," she said. "Story for another time."
The two lapsed into silence, Matt nursing another drink and Abbey staring at her glass. He wanted to ask her about Mr. Dark but wasn't sure how. Despite the fact that he'd found someone else who could see evil in people, he wasn't entirely convinced he had complete control of his mind. Even though the whole day had been crazy, he didn't want to make it worse.
Somewhere out in the shop, a bell chimed twice. Abbey looked at her watch.
"Two in the morning," she said, stretching. "I think it's time I went home."
Matt looked around, remembering he'd be sleeping on a cot in the back room. The thought didn't sit well with his back, but after the uncomfortable bus ride that morning— had it really only been that morning?—and almost getting killed, even a cot in a rundown shop would be a luxury. He stood and stretched, reaching over his head and wincing as the bullet wound on his shoulder reminded him of its existence. His shirt rose up just a bit, but he barely noticed.
When he finished his yawn, he found Abbey staring at him. Her expression was hard to read. A mixture of amusement and mischief. And something else. He couldn't help but notice how her chest rose and fell with each breath, perhaps a little more than normal. The fabric of her blouse strained to keep everything covered. She answered his quizzical look by putting her arm on his shoulder and rubbing her thumb along his bicep.
"You wanna drive me home, cowboy?" she asked, her voice deep and throaty. It left no doubt in Matt's mind that he would not, in fact, be sleeping on the cot in the back of the store.
"I thought you'd never ask," he replied.
# # #
Matt had never considered himself a slouch in bed. Whenever the opportunity arose he always did his best to give as good as he got, and so far, he hadn't had any complaints.
But Abbey kicked his ass eight different ways.
They hadn't been in her house five seconds before she pushed and shoved him into her bedroom, kissing him and slipping out of her clothing the whole way. He didn't even get a good look inside the place. By the time the back of his legs hit the bed, she was already naked, and working her hands through his belt.
Her body was solid and toned, a woman used to working out, and it showed in the strength of her arms and legs as she held his hands to the bed and straddled him. She rocked back and forth on top of him for several minutes, breathing heavily, until her eyes closed and she dug her nails into the skin of his back. He felt the pinch in his flesh and knew if he checked he would find blood. The thought excited him more than he thought it would.
From there, she rolled over, pulling him on top of her. By now she was gyrating her hips and grinding into him like a piston, and Matt was just trying to keep up. She wrapped her legs around his back and used them to force him deep into her.
"Push!" she breathed. "Push that fucker right through me!"
Matt pushed for all he was worth.
Abbey moaned and ground her hips into his groin. She wrapped her hands in his hair and pulled as her body tensed. She moaned again, louder, and told him not to stop. So he didn't.
When he finally came, it was rough and hard, but felt wonderful. His muscles relaxed as the tension left his body. He rolled away from her, surprised at how much he was sweating, and thought about how much he'd needed that.
But Abbey had other ideas. She grabbed his shoulder, sending a twinge of pain down his arm as she brushed the bullet wound with her fingers, and pulled him back towards her. Then she maneuvered him on his back, climbed on top of him, and grinned. "That was just round one," she said. Then she kissed his abs, rubbing her lips into the muscle. She ran her tongue along the ridges, licking the salt from his belly.