Until We Burn_A Psychological Thriller Read online

  “So the town’s really warming up to you, huh?” She reached out a hand.

  He shook it with reluctance. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “And are you… warming up to us?” She took her longest finger and stroked the back of his hand.

  Cyrus jerked away and coughed, trying to gain control of his lungs and brain. “I…”

  “Oh, Cyrus. Always so shy.” She winked. “All the big names from around town are going out to lunch today. You’re more than welcome to come with. The pastor already reserved you a spot.”

  “I… maybe, sure. Yeah. I don’t know.”

  “Well, you can always ride with me. I’ve always got an open space.”

  “Thanks for the offer. I have a ride, actually.”

  “Oh, right. That sexy sports car.”

  “Convertible.”

  She chuckled and bit her lip again. “Either way, I’d like to hitch a ride.”

  Will pushed past the librarian, with Zada at his side. Both of them in front of her now, Ann gave the tenagers a fierce and offended look, opening her mouth to say something.

  “See you, Ann.” Will shook her hand and pushed her away gently. “You can talk to him later.”

  “How dare you-!”

  He turned back to Cyrus and felt her stomp away through the ground.

  “What?” Cyrus asked.

  “Just thought you might want saving,” Will explained.

  Zada jerked a thumb back in the direction of Ann McBay. “She’s kind of a… well, I won’t say that. We’re in church.”

  “She didn’t dress like we were in church,” Will shook his head.

  “Were you looking?” Zada asked, half-kidding.

  “Of course not-”

  “Listen, guys,” Cyrus interrupted them. “I’d love to chat, but I need to see the pastor. And then apparently go to lunch.”

  “Oh, right. Should’ve guessed you’d get invited to the MVP luncheon.”

  Cyrus raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s what we call it,” Zada added. “The Most Vain People’s lunch. They all go out every week and eat at the steak or Mexican place.”

  “Who goes?” Cyrus questioned.

  “Ann, the pastor, some of his friends, most of the elders, the music minister-”

  “Does Dumpy?”

  Will glanced over at Zada. “I think so… right?”

  She nodded. “But why would he come to church if he knows everybody’s suspicious?”

  “They aren’t. They’re suspicious of me.” Cyrus thanked them and turned away.

  “I guess going to that lunch is a great way to… gain their trust.” Zada shrugged. “Not a bad scheme.”

  Will didn’t answer. His eyes were locked onto Cyrus. “What a great guy, really. He’s smart. Very smart.”

  “Why do you think he came today?” she asked Will, ignoring his comment.

  Behind him, Will said, “Because everybody comes to church. Murderers and not-murderers. It’s the best way to catch one.”

  Keeping an eye out for the pastor, Cyrus stalked around the crowded building, trying to make sure he was actually invited and get directions. Maybe there was something to this luncheon after all.

  “Everybody comes to church,” he said to himself a few minutes later, as he followed the pastor’s white SUV to the restaurant. Behind him, the dark SUV followed as well. He was stuck between light and dark, the town’s God and the town’s Devil. They didn’t even know it.

  I wonder what it’s like, Cyrus thought, to preach to the man who wants you dead.

  < >< >< ><><><>

  They sat down at the Mexican restaurant, about two dozen adults spread out across the colorful table. Every wall seemed to reflect a rainbow, with paintings and sketches strewn on every surface. Even their chairs were like a covered canvas. The establishment felt familiar, like a different restaurant, but that one had been torn down before he left.

  Their group waited for a while, everybody forcing small talk and arranging themselves comfortably by those they liked. The pastor ordered five pitchers of different drinks, as well as appetizers. Then he took a seat directly beside Cyrus, who was trapped in yet another conversation with Ann McBay. Despite his efforts to avoid her, she’d fought for a seat next to him, and won.

  “It’s a really nice place we have here,” she bragged, gesturing around at the establishment. “Pretty new. They just opened a year ago. We come here almost every Sunday, now.”

  “I don’t remember this place,” Cyrus said. “I mean… I’ve never heard of it.”

  She didn’t catch his change of tone and smiled. “They have better tacos, here. That place got destroyed.”

  “Yep…”

  Cyrus tapped on the table, feeling her eyes roll down his physique. He coughed into his elbow and glanced around, doing anything to avoid eye contact.

  “Ah, the drinks!” Pastor Keener exclaimed from right beside him.

  Two waitresses hurried in, each holding a pair of gallon-sized pitchers. They set them down on the table, and one addressed the pastor in a heavy, Spanish accent.

  “There is no more of the special, sir.” The waitress folded her arms. “We can get you something else, if you would like. S-”

  “Get the next best beer you have, then,” the pastor said.

  “Yes, sir.” They hurried off.

  “Beer at a church lunch?” Cyrus asked.

  The pastor nodded. “We have nothing against alcohol in moderation. Where do you think the local bar gets all its business?”

  Cyrus shrugged. “I just figured some people didn’t go to church.”

  The pastor shook his head. “No, Cyrus. Everybody does. Everyone.”

  “Do you know what that means?” Cyrus lowered his voice, eager to make the point that had been stirring in his mind.

  Pastor Keener stared at him thoughtfully, waiting.

  “Today, you preached to a murderer.” Cyrus chuckled, and turned away, leaving the pastor with that idea.

  “What was that about?” the librarian asked when he turned around.

  Cyrus shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Aren’t you gonna get a drink?” she asked, sipping on her own soda.

  “I’m waiting for the alcohol.”

  She nodded, but her lip twisted.

  Good, Cyrus thought. Finally something she doesn’t adore about me.

  He glanced across the table and saw Dumpy near the end. They made eye contact, neither man wavering. Cyrus raised his chin slowly, and Dumpy smiled.

  “Glad to have you!” Dumpy called out, drawing everyone’s attention. “You know what, Cyrus, I do think I remember you!”

  Cyrus's breath caught in his throat. “I… I think you’re mistaken-”

  “No, no. I do remember you. Fine young man, back then. You’ve been gone for about 15 years, right? Ever since the fire?”

  Clearing his throat, Cyrus folded his arms and waited. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Cyrus…” The pastor placed a hand on his arm. “Why are you so afraid to admit you lived here? It’s part of who you are. It’s your history.”

  Tensing his muscles, Cyrus didn’t respond. He glared openly across the table at Dumpy.

  “How did you manage to get along so well?” Dumpy asked, feigning innocence. “You seem to be pretty normal. Not like a man who lost everything.”

  All heads at the table turned to stare at Cyrus. He kept his eyes fixed solely on one face and didn’t speak a word.

  “How did things go for you?” Dumpy’s lips twitched with a grin. “After Ophelia?”

  At that instant, the waiters and waitresses arrived carrying plates of food. Everybody let out a collective sigh of relief and eagerly took their dishes. Some people called across the table for the drinks to be passed, and it was chaos for a few moments.

  “Good thing the service here is fast,” Ann commented absentmindedly. She picked up a spoon and began shoveling a beans and cheese mix into her mouth. “Seems li
ke everything was getting a little tense.”

  “How’d they know my order?” Cyrus asked.

  “Pastor probably called ahead and told them. Everybody else’s is a standing order. They already know what we want.”

  “But the pastor didn’t even know I was coming,” Cyrus pointed out, almost too quiet to hear.

  Ann shook her head, not bothering to keep her voice down. “He knows more than you think.”

  The table resumed its awkward small-talk for the next half an hour, while everybody devoured their meals. Cyrus ate his begrudgingly, discomforted by the fact that it was exactly what he would’ve chosen. The pastor, however he’d done it, was exactly right about him.

  Ann cast him a flirtatious glance every once in a while, trying to feed him a piece of her taco at one point. Cyrus glared at her until she ate it herself, shrugging. Pastor Keener tried multiple times to start a conversation, but they never lasted for long. Ultimately, Cyrus was left in silence, eating alone among the crowd.

  Dumpy stood up from the table after ten more minutes and raised his arms and voice. “I am sorry everybody, but I need to go. Urgent matters to attend to, you understand. A monopoly can’t run itself, after all.” He chuckled, and took one last sip from his drink. “See you all about.”

  He cast one more glance at Cyrus, and strolled around the table, heading towards the exit of the restaurant. Cyrus watched him go, tapping his fingers on the table.

  “I’m gonna go too,” one man said from the end of the table.

  “Me too,” Cyrus copied. Even quicker than the other church-goer, he sprang up from his chair and darted towards the exit. “Bye.”

  Jogging out past the front desk, Cyrus grabbed his keys and made a B-line to his convertible. Dumpy’s black SUV was pulling out of the parking lot already. As soon as the engine turned over, Cyrus slammed the gas pedal down. The car leapt forwards and Cyrus made a sharp turn to chase.

  Pressing on the gas, he whipped onto the main road and kept Dumpy in his sites. The car horn behind him blared angrily at being cut off, but Cyrus held his breakneck pace and his small car quickly made up ground.

  Once he was a good distance closer, Cyrus backed off the speed and was content to stalk Dumpy through the various streets. One turn after another, he kept back, not out of sight but far enough out of mind. Dumpy wouldn’t be expecting him to follow, after all.

  Staring up ahead at the rear-view mirror of the SUV, Cyrus saw Dumpy facing straight ahead, his eyes firmly on the road. His lips were quivering as he mumbled something to himself. The man’s face was cold and determined, with a hint of anger.

  The man’s eyes jerked up to the mirror, and his vision met Cyrus's. All of a sudden, the SUV roared ahead, picking up speed.

  “Shoot.” Cyrus accelerated as well.

  A short ding sound from the dashboard was the first sign something wasn’t right. Snapping his eyes in that direction, Cyrus saw the gas light was on. It was clear he didn’t have enough fuel to carry on this chase, especially when it seemed like such a lost cause in the first place.

  Grumbling to himself, Cyrus pulled to the right and took a different road, back to Main Street. Any place worth visiting must be along there.

  A cluster of gas stations were up in the distance, and Cyrus made his miserable way towards them. His phone buzzed on his leg, and he turned to the lit screen.

  I meant 2 ask u but nevr got a chnce. why do u think it was dumpy? From Will.

  Cyrus parked his car in front of the gas pump and picked up the cell phone. Cradling it, he stared at the message. Behind it was his screen saver, a picture of a beautiful woman, wavy hair, her eyes a brilliant shade of blue just like his own.

  He chucked the phone at the floorboard as hard as he could, where it bounced once and stayed.

  “Because it has to be him!” Cyrus screamed, banging the edges of the steering wheel with both fists. His head spun as he smacked it over and over, feeling blood pool on his knuckles. “It has to be!”

  Chapter 16

  Mania

  Will stepped up to the front door cautiously, knocking with a soft touch. It swung inwards, already cracked. There was a roar from inside, and the sound of glass shattering into a thousand pieces.

  “Cyrus?” He hesitated, then took a step inside.

  Kneeling on the floor and holding his hands in front of him, Cyrus was mumbling something and staring straight down. On the opposite side of the room, a pile of glass decorated the floor, half of a beer logo still intact. There was a wet mark on the wall, right above it.

  “So you heard…” Will mumbled.

  Cyrus's eyes slowly wandered over his living room. The found their way to the front door, where light from outside spilled into the blackened house. No lights were on, no noise except for heavy breathing.

  “I thought I was right,” Cyrus growled. “I was so certain.”

  “Well… nobody knew for sure. He was our main suspect, but there might be… another one. Right?”

  “He’s the reason I came back here, Will.” Cyrus turned his eyes up, tears falling to the carpet. “He was my number one suspect because he always has been. Dumpy hasn’t always been a financial master, and I didn’t think he ever would be. But even when we grew up together, he wasn’t a nice person.”

  “What do you mean?” Will approached carefully, kneeling beside Cyrus on the ground. “You grew up with him?”

  “We were the bright future of this town,” Cyrus managed to go on. “Adam and I. That’s his real name. Was, anyways. I was the smartest, he was the strongest. Both of us pretty well-known. Up until the end of high school, we managed to get along. We were friends, you could say. Competitors, but friends.”

  “What happened in high school?” Will prodded. “Go on.”

  “I met Ophelia,” he said. “She’d been dating Adam for a year, but never really liked him. Back then, in this town, you didn’t date someone because you loved them. It was a lot like the old times, in a twisted way. Your partner was your ticket to a better future, and Adam seemed to be going places.

  “She met me, I met her, and things began to change. Eventually, just a few months before graduation, she broke up with him. Not long after, we were together. It was jerk move by me, and I don’t regret it one bit. Anyways, things turned around all of a sudden. Adam hated me, and he decided that he would forever.

  “We went our separate ways. Adam began to take over and expand his family business. Ophelia and I settled down here and decided to stick around town. That was a horrible mistake.”

  Cyrus bowed his head and slammed a fist on the carpet, making a dull thud. “You don’t understand what it’s like, Will. We worked so hard, we tried and tried, and then finally we got what we wanted. Both of us, in our mid-20’s, and we were thrilled with life. Everything was perfect here. And then the fire took all of that.

  “Ophelia nearly died. All we had afterwards was our lungs, still working, and our hearts, barely beating. We lost our… Well, our mental and emotional lives. Nothing was the same after that. Not for us, and not for the town. So many people died in that fire, and so many families left. Ever since then, we’ve been on a downwards spiral. The high school closed that empty half of the building, without the money to really demolish it. The church is gone. And Adam… his business boomed after that.”

  “He won when everybody else lost,” Will said thoughtfully, keeping his eyes down. “That’s why you thought he started it?”

  “Partly,” Cyrus explained. “He confronted me afterwards, telling me to leave town or he’d make life miserable for me. We were hesitant at first, but Ophelia started to… to change. I think it was getting to her. Having to restart our life, rebuild our dreams. It was just too much. So we left Werifesteria.”

  “What happened?” Will asked.

  “Not important,” said Cyrus gruffly. “But ever since I’ve come back, he’s been everywhere close to me. He’s always in the same store, the same restaurant. I thought he came back to finish th
e job, finish me. But now…”

  “He’s dead.”

  Cyrus nodded. “It has to be the same guy as before. He was tied up the same, killed the same, just like the women. Left hand cut off, a single gunshot to the forehead, found on the ground, tied up and nailed down.”

  Will turned around and paced by the window. “Is there anybody else you can think of? Anyone who… didn’t die in the fire, has been here ever since. Maybe?”

  There was a commotion behind, and he turned to see Cyrus gripping a lamp in his right hand, still kneeling.

  “Cyrus…”

  With one quick movement, he flung the lamp across the room where it crashed against the same wall and broke into a million pieces. The metal part fell down to the ground, making its home on the floor, in a pool of glass larger than before.

  “There has to be somebody,” Will assured him. “He’s here somewhere. We just have to find him. Guess what his motive could be.”

  “It has to be personal,” Cyrus said. “It can’t be a coincidence that just as soon as I come back, these start.”

  “I mean…” Will sighed, leaning his head against the window pane. “What do we do now? Who would know?”

  “The pastor would.” Cyrus got to his feet slowly, rubbing his hands together. Excitement coursed from him like electricity, a sense of purpose. His eyes were bright again, hungry. “He’s the only one.”

  < >< >< >< >< ><>

  The convertible whipped out of the driveway and sped down the road, out of sight. Will was in the front yard with the weed eater, swinging it back and forth along the front of the house. What usually took him fifteen minutes had taken over an hour so far. His arms were tired, his neck tight, and all he wanted was a break.

  Sputtering, the machine died in his arms and the spinning end slowed to a stop. Will threw it on the ground, muttering curses, and stomped off to the back shed for some gasoline. Hopefully, all it needed was fuel. Anything more than that, and he was clueless to fix it.

  “Hey, you!”

  Will spun around, facing the road. Behind the fence, a little girl stood with her hands on the white wood. One palm was running across it, feeling the texture. Her free one pointed straight at him.