Free Stalking the Others by Jess Haines Page A

companions for the day.
    Muscles burning, I settled into a bath, tears from a combination of pain, frustration, and helplessness mixing with the steam.
    I had to concentrate on the one thing I thought I could do something about. There had to be some clues to where Chaz was hiding. He wasn’t clever enough to conceal himself from me or the cops forever—but that was just it. I didn’t have forever. I had eighteen days left. If I didn’t step up my efforts, and I turned before I found him, Jack and the other White Hats would kill me before I could see this thing through to the end.
    I would visit Chaz’s brownstone after I got some rest. Even with the heat soaking into my muscles, it didn’t help me relax. Without the belt there to shield me from myself, guilt was gnawing at the edges of my consciousness, teasing at my brain, my inner voice telling me what a fantastically shitty person I was.
    That I would even briefly consider justifying murdering a man who had done me no wrong was sounding a lot less plausible now that I didn’t have the belt telling me why it was so right. The more I tried not to think about it, the more it ate away at me, consuming my thoughts.
    Even after I got out of the bath and lay down on the bed, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, Vic’s surprised eyes stared up at me from below the hole blasted in his forehead, while a phantom gunshot echoed in my ears. Tossing and turning for what felt like hours, I eventually gave up and threw on a robe, padding downstairs to the kitchen.
    Most of the people in the house had drifted into nocturnal schedules, save for Jack and Nikki. They ran the shop during the day, and would only pull all-nighters when a hunt was on. The house was quiet and dark with all the shades pulled down. No one stopped me when I rummaged through the cabinets in search of something to drink that had a little more bite to it than the milk, OJ, and soda in the fridge.
    “Looking for something, pretty lady?”
    I jerked, banging my head against the top of the counter cabinet as I pulled back, scowling at Bo as I rubbed the newly forming bruise. He smiled sheepishly, tugging absently at a loose thread on his Looney Tunes T-shirt before holding his hand out.
    “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Can’t sleep?”
    I accepted the offering, and he tugged me to my feet. “No. I just ... No.”
    He nodded, then ambled over to the freezer, pulling out a bottle of vodka hidden under a bag of ice. Of course. The one place I hadn’t looked. That perpetual smile of his briefly waned when he looked at me again, maybe put off by my expression. Desperation is never flattering.
    “We’ll find him. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but we will. Soon.”
    I only nodded, pulling out a couple of glasses while he brought the vodka and orange juice to the table, pouring a liberal helping of each into the glasses. We settled into our seats, cradling our drinks, sipping in companionable silence. It took a little time for me to build up the courage to say what was on my mind.
    “It’s his face, Bo. I can’t stop seeing it. Can’t stop feeling my finger tightening on the trigger. Over and over again.” Taking a big gulp of the drink, I prayed it would hit me hard enough that I’d manage to pass out and get some rest today. Even if it meant the hangover from hell later, all I wanted now was a little slice of oblivion. “How do you live with that? Knowing you took somebody’s life away?”
    “You don’t,” he said, avoiding my eyes as he spun his glass between his palms. “You just keep going, and remind yourself every step of the way that you’ve got a bigger purpose in mind. If you’re looking for peace, you won’t find it with us. If you’re looking for forgiveness, the only one who can give you that is you. Justice, now, that we can help you find—but you’ll have to accept that there will be some collateral damage in the process. No one can help you accept that but you. If