All the Inside Howling (Hollow Folk #2)(91)

Emmett frowned, keeping his eyes on me as he slid the apple pie out of reach, trying to be casual, like it was the smallest thing in the world, no big deal, no need to pay attention. I dropped my head onto the counter. It wasn’t worth fighting about. The pie was good, but my stomach was starting to hurt.

“I thought DeHaven was the killer,” Emmett said. “I thought you were sure.”

“DeHaven can’t be the killer,” I said. “He had his throat slashed the same way as Salerno, the same way as Frankie. The real killer, whoever it is, got DeHaven too. And now I’ve got nothing.”

“Not nothing.”

“Emmett, if you say something like, ‘you’re not alone’ or ‘it’s not just you in this’ or—”

“Oh fuck that,” Emmett said with a grin like a lightning bolt, raising the hair on my arms and mean enough to fry me. “What I’m saying is that you’ve got something really important: three people killed by the same person in the same way.”

“Great. Three people who’d be alive if I’d found Mr. Big Empty before this.”

He waved away my comment. “Three people that tell you how this killer works. How he thinks. What he wants.”

“But I don’t . . . yeah. Ok. I guess I can see that. What about River, though? And Hailey? Where do they fit?”

“River’s another victim, that’s what you said. You said you saw him dead.”

“In a dream. A dream Mr. Big Empty manufactured for Becca.”

“So we’ve got four people dead—”

“That we know of.”

“Four dead that we know of. And Hailey, who’s missing. What do they have in common?”

“That’s what the sheriff said. The only thing they have in common is me.”

“What about Jigger Boss? Salerno was there, because you said he worked for Lawayne, and River went there with me and Hailey, and you said DeHaven was there too. All on the same night.”

“Not Frankie.”

“Not that you know.”

I thought back to my conversation with Frankie. “Wait. He was there. Only not that night. He said the sheriff picked him up the next day for Dumpster-diving. The same Dumpster where I found River’s jacket.”

“So there’s a second connection: Jigger Boss.”

I thought about the vision I’d had at Jigger Boss in Lawayne’s torture room: the column of light surrounded by darkness, the screams, the pain in my head. Something terrible had happened there. But what? Lawayne had assured me that the room was just for play, that nothing bad had ever really happened there, but I knew what I’d felt: someone had been hurt, terribly hurt, in that room. Who?

“But the Jigger Boss connection doesn’t make sense,” I said. “I think it’s me. Go ahead, you’re going to say that’s stupid and self-centered, but I do. I think they were killed because they were connected to me.”

“If you’re going to whip yourself bloody with guilt and self-pity,” Emmett said, crossing to the fridge and retrieving an ice-cold Coke, “I don’t have to be thirsty while I listen.” He twisted off the cap and flipped it at me. When I caught it, he grinned and said, “Go on. Start whipping.”

“I’m not saying this because I feel guilty. Listen: River looks like me.”

“You wish,” Emmett said under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He took a swig of Coke and, when I hadn’t resumed speaking, smiled and added, “Go on.”

“Becca said River looks like me. DeHaven got us confused. River met me, just briefly, at Bighorn Burger. And Mr. Big Empty dragged Becca into that dream to show her River’s mutilated body because he knew I’d start looking. So River dies because Mr. Big Empty knows he’ll make the perfect bait. He’s attached to Becca, and so Becca will drag me into this, but . . .”

“But he also looks like you, so Mr. Big Empty does exactly to River what he’s going to do to you.” Emmett paled, setting down his Coke. “It’s a message. He’s showing you how much he’s going to hurt you.”

I nodded. My mouth was dry, and I grabbed the Coke from across the counter and took a drink. The taste of Emmett’s mouth still lingered on the glass, and I told myself I didn’t care, it didn’t matter, but I still tasted it. When I passed the bottle back to Emmett, he raised that perfect eyebrow again.

“So,” I said, tripping a little over the word in my haste to start talking. “River’s the bait. He gets the whole thing started. Then Salerno is killed. He’s already shot Lawayne and he’s coming after me and he’s going to shoot me too. But instead, Mr. Big Empty—”

“No. Not Mr. Big Empty. The killer, remember?”

“Right. Mr. Big Empty’s killer gets Salerno first.”

“Because,” Emmett said, “Mr. Big Empty wants you around. He wants you to suffer.” He took a swig of Coke like he wished it were a hell of a lot stronger. “So why the first homeless guy?”

“Frankie? Well, I don’t know. Not exactly. But when I was looking for River, Frankie helped me. He was . . . he was really nice, actually.”

“Nice? To you? God, the guy must have been a saint.”