He has killed though, I think to myself. I’ve got proof of that.
“Looks like this is it,” he says a few minutes later, yanking the steering wheel to the left, bringing us to a sudden halt on a woodchip-covered drive that leads up to a huge log cabin. Smoke’s rising lazily from the chimney and the whole place has a Kinkade puzzle vibe to it. Lining the drive are wide-boughed pine trees. I’m guessing the cabin’s been here a hundred years, maybe longer.
Lights shine from the wall near the roof, arc lamps that illuminate a wide circle around the entire property. There’re two cars on the drive. One a year or two old, the other covered in a dust sheet that looks like it hasn’t moved for years. Dead leaves and moss cover the top like nature’s trying to swallow it up and make it disappear.
We stop in front of the cars and the cabbie finally goes quiet long enough for me to get out.
I climb out of the cab as the front door opens and a woman who looks nothing like I expected waves at me from the porch. She’s tall, thin, with pursed lips like she’s just been eating a lemon. She narrows her eyes when she looks at me.
For a brief moment, I think she hates me but then she smiles, and her whole face changes, getting warmer. “Good to see you,” she calls down. “Come on up.”
“Thanks for the ride,” I tell the cab driver.
He nods back. “Anything for Enzo and the famiglia, am I right?” He grins before turning the car around. Then he leans out, yells, “Going to get so wasted!” and races off even faster than he brought me up here.
“Evening,” the woman on the porch shouts as I approach. “You must be Chloe. Enzo told me to expect you. I’m Imelda. Come on inside and I’ll get you a cold one.”
“That would be good,” I reply, walking up the steps as she heads inside.
I follow her in and a wave of warmth hits me from the roaring fireplace. The main space of the cabin is centered around the fire. Two armchairs, old brown leather, sofa, bookcases, varnished wood floors. Walls covered in hunting trophies and photos of the mountains.
I notice a couple of books have fallen onto the floor. I pick them up and put them back absently as Imelda calls from the kitchen. “You want anything to eat?”
“Wouldn’t mind if it’s not a problem.”
She sticks her head back out. “No problem at all. You’re my guest. There’s a roast been on the go for a couple of hours if you want some?” She smiles broadly. “Left it in too long, to be honest with you. A bit overdone by now but still edible.”
“Sure, whatever you’re doing would be great. Mind if I go freshen up first? It’s been a hell of a drive out here.”
“I like the peace out here after being in the city growing up. Mind you town’s only a few miles from here if you don’t mind a walk through the woods. The bathroom’s down there on your right. I’ll start dishing up. Take your time.”
I head down a short corridor leading off the far side of the room, pushing open a bathroom door. I find myself looking straight into a mirror.
I’m shocked by how tired I look. I examine myself more closely. I swear I’ve aged about ten years in a week. Is this what nearly dying does to a person? Or was it watching Enzo kill that guy in the diner that did this?
When I come back out a few minutes later, the smell of charred beef fills the cabin. I find Imelda laying the table with a huge bowl of roast potatoes.
The joint has steam rising from it almost like we’re in a cartoon. I sit down as she starts to carve.
“Looks good,” I tell her.
“Shame I cooked it too long,” she replies. “Guess I lost track of time. So, you going to tell me why you’re here, or do I have to guess?”
“I thought Enzo told you.”
“Told me you were coming. Didn’t tell me anything else. Never shares anything with me, that guy. Keeps his cards very close to his chest. How’d you end up under his protection anyway? You don’t exactly seem his type.” She starts carving the meat while we’re talking.
“Oh, really? What is his type?”
“Well, taller for a start. Closer to his own age. Less…” She looks at me, waving in a way too reminiscent of Jeb on that date I had a lifetime ago. I start to like her a little less. “You know?”
“Not sure I do.”
She shakes her head. “Come on. How’d you two meet?”
“That’s a very long story.”
“Got all the time in the world, honey. You dig in before it starts going cold.”