Until We Burn_A Psychological Thriller Read online

  Once they were seated inside, he pushed the key into the ignition and revved the engine, hoping she didn’t notice how weak it sounded. He reached down to put the car into drive, but she stopped his hand by grabbing it, leaning over to lay on his shoulder.

  “Can I have your number?” she asked. “I really wanna stay friends with you.”

  “I don’t have a phone,” he answered sheepishly, lowering his head.

  She picked up his chin, kissed him on the cheek. “Then I guess we’ll just have to see each other in person more often.”

  “Aren’t you dating Adam?” he asked nervously.

  “This isn’t a date, Cyrus.” She wrapped both arms around him, clinging tightly, her face nuzzled between his neck and shoulder. “I just feel safe. Warm.”

  “I really like your name,” he blurted out, cringing as soon as the words left his mouth.

  “I really like you. I think I might forever.”

  Chapter 8

  New Horizons

  Will glanced sideways at Zada, matching his steps with hers as they walked, trying to muster up the courage to reach over and take her hand. Her eyes were fixated on the windows they passed, filled with trinkets, art, and other small-town items they could buy.

  He moved his fingers an inch closer to hers, but drew them back just as quickly. Stuffing his hands into his pocket, Will marched on quietly beside her. Zada halted and stepped over to a window, getting right against the glass and inspecting whatever was inside.

  Will stood back, watching her admire the store. Her long, black hair was in braids today, exactly how he liked it, standing up on her head and trailing down her back. Zada’s hair was thicker -and prettier- than anybody else’s in town. Her skin was smooth, dark, and she was more fit than he was. Stronger than most of the boys in town, too.

  He glanced down at his own, puny arms. It was uncomfortable at times, but they made it work. At least he was taller than Zada. That would’ve been more awkward.

  “What do you think about this one?” Zada asked, beckoning him to come over.

  Will focused his mind and followed her over to the storefront window. “Which one?”

  She held up a finger and pointed to a painting. The entire shop seemed to be full of paintings, but this one held a special spot at the front. “The one with the teddy bear.”

  “Eh, it’s alright.” Will shrugged. “I don’t know. Paintings aren’t my thing.”

  Zada smacked him playfully, barely more than a touch. “Whatever. Can we go inside?”

  He held up his arms. “Whatever you want. I don’t mind.”

  She led the way inside, as he reached out and opened the door for her. As soon as they entered, she was bouncing all over the place, inspecting every canvas she could get to. Will leaned back and looked on at her frantic search, as he waited by the cashier’s setup.

  “What’s the lassie looking for?” the old man asked, tapping his fingers on the wooden checkout counter.

  “No idea.” Will yawned, covering his mouth. “I think she really wants a painting, and can’t make up her mind.”

  “Well, that’s woman for ye.” The old man chuckled quietly, morphing into a fit of coughs. “Never knowin’ what they want. How’d you two end up toget’er anyhoo? She’s outta y’er league, son.”

  “We… we aren’t together. Just-”

  “Oh, sure sure. ‘Course you aren’t, but I know you are, so tell me. Isn’t it weird for ye’r to date a black girl? I mean, y’er white as a sheet of paper, and she’s…”

  Will stared the man hard in the eyes. “No, it’s not weird. She’s a great person. She’s funny, she’s sweet, and it doesn’t matter what color her skin is. I love it. I love… spending time with her.”

  The old man winked at him. “Alright, buddy. Not tryin’ to pry, pray I don’t offend y’er. You just keep ‘ose hands-”

  Will turned away from him and went to find Zada, who was wandering through the aisles and stacks of art. He eventually found her against one wall, staring at an almost-empty canvas intently.

  “What’d you find?” he asked cheerfully, coming up behind her.

  Zada pressed her body into him, and he felt something light and airy erupt in his stomach. “Just a little painting,” she said. “It was in the back corner. I love it, though. I wanna buy it.”

  “How much is it?” Will was tempted to reach his arms around and hold her across the waist, but kept his wrists deep in his pockets.

  “Not sure. I’ll have to ask the man up front.”

  The painting was nearly blank, most of it a white background, except for a figure in the center. It was a doll, wearing white sailors clothes and a white sailors hat, that reflected strangely with all the empty areas surrounding it. In the painting, it was perfectly clean, like the kind of doll you’d see in a catalog. No flaws, no imperfections, just beauty. The little guy wore a bright-red necktie and his eyes were brilliant blue. Every fiber of his body seemed to be drawn with precision, so that it seemed like you could reach out and touch it, stroke the fabric.

  “I’ll wait outside, alright?”

  She turned around to face him, and they were only inches apart in the art gallery. The cashier couldn’t see them, blocked by dozens of aisles and shelves. Will pictured it. Putting his hands around her neck, leaning in for the kiss, but held back. He was starting to lose control.

  “What is it?” she whispered, grinning wide. Her smile was so beautiful. “Will?”

  He was smiling like an idiot, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop it. Standing there, staring into her eyes, he wanted her to understand. He loved her.

  “I guess I should go… check out.” She slipped a hand around his back and pulled him closer.

  “I guess… you should.” Will took his hands out of his pockets, but they hung limply at his side. “I… I will….”

  “Shhhh.” Zada leaned forward and rested her head against his chest. “Will. I think we…”

  “We what?”

  “I wanna be your girlfriend. I know we’ve been talking for a while, and we’ve always been good friends, but I really…”

  “Me too.” He slipped a hand down and grabbed onto her fingers. “I want to.”

  She kissed him on the cheek quickly and slipped her arm away from his back. “I’ll see you outside. Babe.”

  Will nearly jumped for joy as he left the art room. His smile was wider than seemed possible, and his legs felt weak. When he got outside, he leaned against the wall for support as he waited. Breathing deeply, he sucked in the cool, springtime air and tried to imagine what the rest of the day would be like. How would they be different now? Dating. Love.

  There was a bench in front of the shop, facing the road, and he took a seat. Cars rattled past, random people carrying on their daily lives. Will recognized almost everyone that passed. Everything about their little town sparkled in a different light now. Every street corner, every shop window, every sign, every passing person. It was all perfect. Exactly what he wanted.

  “I got it for 15 bucks,” Zada announced as she sat down. There was a white bag at her feet, and she pulled the painting out of it. “I really like it. It’s such a good- What the heck is this?”

  Will had been staring off across the road. There was an alleyway, and he thought he saw a figure in the shadows. At Zada’s exclamation, he turned his attention back to her.

  “What is it?”

  “Look at this. On the painting.”

  She flipped over the canvas, and on the other side there was another image. It was the doll, again, in the same position. Only this one was dirty, stained with mud and possibly blood. There was sand on his body, and a big, gaping wound in his chest. A liquid poured out of it, something he instinctively saw as blood. The wound was raw, like a human who had been shot, not a cloth doll.

  “That’s so weird…” Will shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Two paintings on one? And why is this one so… dark?”

  Zada shook her head. �
�I guess I’ll just hang this side against the wall, you know?”

  Will nodded. “I suppose so.”

  He raised his head again to the alleyway across the road, but there was nothing in sight now. Squinting, he tried to make out any silhouettes on the shadowy side, but whatever he had seen or imagined before was gone.

  “What are you looking at?” Zada asked him.

  “I thought I saw a person in that alley a second ago. I might’ve imagined it. I don’t know.”

  She placed her hand on his. “Don’t worry, babe.”

  He grinned. “I love… shopping with you.”

  Zada snickered. “Do you really now? Do you love buying me things, too, because I’m kind of hungry?”

  Will sighed. “I suppose. Where do you wanna eat?”

  Zada stuffed the painting back into the bag as they got up from their bench. At the bottom hand corner, something neither of them had seen, were two, small letters: OS.

  They sat down to eat lunch at a small, hole-in-the-wall diner, where they had to wait nearly twenty minutes for the food to be served. It would be worth it, Zada assured him. Will figured more time alone could never be a bad thing.

  “You know that old guy I’ve been working for?” he asked, starting the conversation once they’d ordered.

  “Yeah. The new weirdo.”

  Will nodded. “I’m not sure what to think of him. Sometimes he seems… terrible. And sometimes he seems alright. He called this morning and said I didn’t have to come by. That’s why I asked if you wanted to come walk around.”

  “Well, that’s good. He gives you time off. Nice thing to do.”

  “No, I think he was busy or something. I don’t know. Maybe he’ll tell me Monday.”

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” Zada asked. “Do you wanna go see a movie or something?”

  “I’ll have to ask my parents. We might be going somewhere. We’ll be back for church the day after, though.”

  “So we could see one Sunday?”

  He nodded. “Maybe.”

  “I wanna meet that old guy sometime,” she mused. “He seems interesting. There’s not many people here in town who are.”

  “Mr. Streett’s definitely interesting. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, though.”

  Zada leaned over and put her head onto his shoulder. “So you’re my boyfriend.”

  Will grinned and put an arm around her. “I guess I am. Does that make you my girlfriend?”

  “Obviously.” She hit him softly in the chest. “Only I’m allowed to be cheesy.”

  He glanced down at her. “I love… I mean, spending time with you… I-”

  “Just say it, Will.” She turned her face up towards him.

  “I love you.”

  She grabbed the back of his head and brought it down, kissing him softly on the lips. He smiled as he kissed her back, feeling that same, intense feeling in his stomach, nervous and fresh and anxious.

  “I love you too,” she whispered.

  They broke contact and Will stared nervously around the diner, hoping nobody had seen them. Everybody around seemed intent on their meals. Zada sat up, and they resumed their conversation, going over anything they could to pass the time waiting. It wasn’t awkward, but there were some subtle differences in their tone. He couldn’t stop grinning.

  Behind them, outside the restaurant, a dark figure stood, staring through the window. With a hood pulled up, the person’s eyes were fixed intently on them. They had been, all day.

  Breathing deeply, the figure disappeared down the street, content. There was only so much you could learn in one day, after all. Without getting more… personal.

  Chapter 9

  Sinners and Saints

  “So I heard you and a girl were walking around yesterday,” Cyrus said from his seat on the couch. He had a bag of chips beside him and the newspaper spread out in front.

  “I… yeah.” Will dipped his paintbrush into the container, pausing to answer. “Her name’s Zada, by the way.”

  “So you and this Zada character… you’re going steady?”

  “You mean we’re dating?” Will began applying the paint to the wall. “Yeah, that’s right.” It felt good to admit it. His parents didn’t know yet, not technically. It’s not like he was hiding it from them. There hadn’t been a good time to bring it up, really.

  He was behind the couch, painting the living room wall. Every surface of the downstairs needed another coat, or multiple coats, and he had barely gotten anything done so far. Last week, he’d finished the kitchen, but the amount of surface left sometimes overwhelmed him.

  “How long have you been together?” Cyrus prodded.

  “Well, we’ve been friends since we were really young. But we didn’t technically get together until Friday, when we were walking around.” Will set the paintbrush down and faced Cyrus’s back. “Why didn’t you have me work on Friday? And why weren’t you at church on Sunday?”

  “So many questions.” Cyrus waved a hand in the air. “I’m busy, like I told you, so Sundays aren’t really my thing. And on Friday, the police decided to interogate me for much too long.”

  “What’d they want with you?” Will picked up his brush and began work on the wall again. He went on casually, “I’m guessing that murder, right?”

  Cyrus turned around in his seat to face Will. Putting down the brush, Will squared his gaze straight at him.

  “You don’t seem scared,” said Cyrus. “Shouldn’t you be? I mean, murders aren’t that common here, and I’m the main suspect.”

  “We haven’t had one for fifteen-ish years, actually.” Will folded his scrawny arms over his chest. “But I’m not too worried. And I don’t think it’s you. Just because you’re new doesn’t make you a criminal.”

  “You’re one of the few people in town that doesn’t hate me.” Cyrus sat straight again and picked up his newspaper. “Why is that?”

  “Everybody else thinks you’re trying to put them in prison.” Will returned to his painting. “Plus, nobody likes to think about that fire. Some lost family members, and everybody lost close friends. You know, the old pastor died in it? That’s what they said anyways.”

  Cyrus hummed. “I did not. Speaking of pastors, I’d say we’ll get a visit from Pastor Keener sometime today.”

  “How come?”

  “There’s been… another murder.” Cyrus flicked the newspaper, which made a rustling sound. “The paper doesn’t give much details, but it was another young woman.”

  “Possibly a serial killer?” Will asked. His voice shook now, no question.

  “Not possibly. Definitely.”

  Will continued painting for another hour, working in the living room. Around noon, he took a lunch break and went into the kitchen to eat. Cyrus turned on the local news (sponsored by Dumpy ran along the bottom ticker), hoping to find some more facts, but they weren’t saying much. Everything was confidential, and would remain that way.

  Someone knocked on the door only a few minutes after noon. Cyrus craned his neck to see, still seated on the couch, and recognized the short, dark figure in a moment.

  “Come in, Pastor,” he called out.

  The knob turned and the door swung open. Storming inside, the pastor marched up to the couch and stared Cyrus dead in the eyes.

  “Not even two weeks after you move into town,” Pastor Keener began, “our little community is savaged by two murders. Two! And you’re trying to tell me this is a coincidence?”

  Cyrus kept his eyes on the television, ignoring the pastor’s comments. “How are you today?”

  “Look at me!” Pastor Keener roared, stepping in front of the screen. “I need you to work with me, Cyrus. People aren’t happy that I let you into town! Now I need a good reason to trust you, or else…”

  “You’re gonna lock me up?” Cyrus chuckled. “Go ahead. Then my name will be clear when the third murder happens.”

  “The third-?” The pastor was shaking with rage, his wild eyes dartin
g around the living room. “Listen. You don’t understand how much pressure I’m under. I need results! You’ve opened up a can of worms nobody wanted to get involved with. That fire from fifteen years ago isn’t a big deal right now, because now we have a serial killer on our hands! And you’re the only person that makes sense!”

  “How did this one die?” Cyrus asked, running a hand over his grizzly chin. “Same way?”

  “Exactly the same. Same knots, even. Same injuries. Same bewilderment on my part!”

  Cyrus nodded. “Well, Pastor, maybe if I had more freedom to investigate-”

  “What you need is not more freedom! I can promise you that. The most that I can do is keep you out of jail! Now find a way to clear your name, or else I won’t be able to hold back the cops much longer. I may have power, but even that is limited.”

  “I haven’t done anything to make them suspect me. If moving into town is a crime, then everyone here is guilty.” Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to make me move away? Again?”

  The pastor shook his head. “You say you’ve done nothing, and yet I hear countless reports of you… of you spying on your neighbors. Of you watching them, day and night, and even some people who think you’ve planted bugs in their houses!”

  “Hysteria. That’s all it is.”

  “Really? Then why don’t you let me see what really goes on up in that attic?” The pastor crossed his arms. “Now.”

  Cyrus stood up to his full height. “You do not control me, Pastor, and I will not be treated as a criminal. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m not spying on anybody. And you can tell all of your church-going, Jesus freaks to-”

  “Explain to me what you’re doing then.” The pastor was standing only inches away from him. “Tell me why you’re so intent on people watching.”

  “I don’t trust these people,” Cyrus growled. “I’ve been through more in my lifetime than you can imagine. I don’t feel the same way you feel. Everything for me is about one goal. I need to know who started that fire. And you, pastor, know why that’s so important to me. It should be important to everyone. Do I need to say it again?”