Cellar Door

She eyes me openly. “And you learned all this just for body disposal?”

“I weld, and I use a lampworking torch for blowing glass. It just happens the same principles apply in art as it does in death.”

“I don’t buy that. Death is ugly. There’s nothing poetic or artistic about an overdose or—” she eyes me severely “—murder.”

I tuck my hands into my pockets. “Fire is the closest thing to a cleansing of the soul there is. Fire purifies.”

“So you’re redeeming their souls?” she asks. “Is that how you justify this?”

I draw closer to her, forcing her to look up. “I have all the justification I need. Their souls mean nothing to me…unless they’re burning in hell when I’m done with them.”

She blinks. “What about the rib cage?” There’s a dare in her voice. Her tone almost sounds…excited.

I suspect this is the closest thing to a real conversation she’s had, too. Since she lost her partner. Since she’s not a detective anymore.

“I’ll show you later,” is all I say. I hop down and funnel another pour of gas into the barrel.

One confession from me, and this would all be over. I keep the secret to myself. I’m selfish. For three years, I’ve been gunning full force, no slowing, and now I’m stalled. This is the most time I’ve spent with another person who I had no intention to kill.

In a way, I’m using Makenna. I want one moment of that past, normal life that I sacrificed. Before it ends, I want one moment of peace. Even if it’s with the person who wants to see me dead most in this world.

As if she’s reading my mind, she says, “You brought me here so I can…what? Dispose of your body properly?”

I set the can up above me, away from the flames. “I don’t want to be buried near Jules. I’m not the same man her brother was. Just gut me and toss me in the burn barrel.”

“Just like that.”

I nod once. “Just like that.”

She looks around nervously. Then adjusts the bandage around her hands. “I didn’t think that part through…”

I climb out of the pit, getting away from the torrid heat. I look at her. She’s a mess. Hair in disarray and clothes askew. In the breaking light, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“You wanted me dead. That’s as far as you got.”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Revenge takes planning,” I say, taking a step toward her. “You have to know without a doubt that the person has earned that death. Then you have to see it through. And you can’t get caught. Being punished for delivering justice no justice system would administer defeats the purpose.”

She blinks against the morning sun. “You killed Hudson.”

I stand still.

She sucks in a quick breath. “I know you believe he deserved such a death, but you made a mistake. I can’t let you get away with that.”

I shrug. “So then just hand me over to authorities. Why bring a gun, Mak? Why aim that gun?”

“No one believes me. There’s no evidence. You made sure of that.”

“You need a body.”

She rubs her arms, agitated, as she stares down into the pit, at the body engulfed in flames. Tears fill her eyes, but she fights them back with a hard sniff.

There’s no body.

“You’re at an impasse,” I say. “No crime, no punishment. You believe you’re the only one who can vindicate your partner, and yet…”

Her gaze swings up to me, a shot of fear hidden just below her anger. “I would’ve pulled the trigger,” she says.