Ghostface Killer(22)

"Sounds good." Baz nods his head. When a woman's voice comes over the speaker, he orders my drink and a French roast for himself with only a splash of organic cream.

Minutes later, I'm sipping on what might be the best cup of coffee I've ever had as we head east on the highway.

"So . . ." Baz begins. Here comes the small talk. "Where are you from?"

Lie. Lie. Lie. "East coast."

"Oh, yeah, what part?"

"New York." I feed him as little info as possible.

"All of New York, or is there a specific part?" He gets smart, trying to draw more out of me.

"The city, mostly." I look down at my coffee cup. "I grew up in foster care so I moved around. A lot." There. There's your nugget of information.

"Wow. That must have been rough."

"Yeah. It wasn't pleasant." I look out the front window into the vast darkness before me. "My past fucking sucks." I don't know why I said that. Holy shit. Where did that even come from? I've never admitted that to anyone besides Claudia before, and even then, it took months for me to tell her.

Baz clears his throat as a blanket of comfortable silence covers the car.

Ugh, maybe I should just put us both out of our misery and shoot him now.

Some static over the radio draws my attention away from the window and my dark thoughts.

"I think we need a little music." Baz plays with the dial until he finds a clear station. "Nice." He turns it up as a male voice sings about being the highway and the night and the lightning.

"Who is this?"

"Seriously?" Baz's eyebrows shoot up.

"Yeah, who's singing?" I don't recognize the song.

"Only one of my favorite bands ever. Audioslave." Baz opens his mouth and belts out the lyrics as if he's on stage. Hitting the high octaves and low tenors with no strain and zero insecurities. I think I actually blush as he blatantly serenades me.

"You like music, I take it."

"Love it. It's life." He turns the radio down so we can talk.

"Are you a musician or something?"

"No, not at all." He laughs. "I just appreciate it. Sometimes life gets a little too loud for me." He sighs thoughtfully as he peers out the window. "Music helps me focus." 

"I understand life getting too loud." I drop my head back on the seat.

Baz passes me a solemn look. Wow. What a pair of downers we are.

"Have you always lived here?" I attempt a subject change. Just because I'm a killer doesn't mean I have to attend a funeral.

"No. Not always."

"How long then?" I pry. Fair is fair.

"Long enough to know I like it," he offers vaguely.

"Fair enough." I won't push. We all have secrets. It's the reason I'm here.

The front window starts to brighten and once again my attention is pulled in a different direction. When I turn my head away from Baz, an early-morning light show is unfolding before me.

"Wow." I unconsciously scoot forward in my seat as a brilliant, golden hue illuminates from behind the mountain range. "How beautiful," I muse as the black sky is chased away by a surge of fiery oranges, blazing pinks, and flaming reds.

"Told you it was killer."

Dear Lord, I wish he would stop using that word.

We drive a little while longer until we come to the base of a pass by the mountain. Baz pulls off the road and parks on the dirt path beneath some evergreens. At least I think they're evergreens. Pines, maybe. Who knows.

"Ready to do this?" Baz excitedly reaches into the back seat and grabs his bookbag.

As I'll ever be.

We climb out, he locks the truck, and we begin our climb up the trail. The morning air is chilly, and as we hike, the clear sky starts to roll over with grey clouds.

"Most of the trail is pretty easy," Baz informs me as we navigate under the vibrant green, towering trees. The color of the needles is reminiscent of Baz's keen eyes. "The hardest part is the last half mile. We'll have to climb a few rocks to get to the spring, but it will be totally worthwhile. You good with that?" he asks with his hands clutching the straps of his backpack.

"I'm up for the challenge," I assure him.

"I had a feeling." He smirks, peering down at me.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I question.

"Nothing. Nothing bad," he clarifies. "You just seem like the kind of person who can rise to the occasion."

"I am," I confirm.

Baz's smirk grows into a full-on smile.

I wish he wouldn't do that. Enjoy being with me so much. It's making it all the harder to do my job. Nearly impossible, actually.

Neither judge nor jury.

As we get deeper into the forest, my opportunity grows by leaps and bounds. It's the perfect setting. Quiet, remote, isolated. He'd get picked apart by animals before anyone would find his body. My heart sinks at the thought, but I shake off the guilt. If Benny was here, he would whip my ass for letting a detestable emotion like remorse get the better of me. Allow it to make me weak.