He carried her gently, taking the care and time that she deserved. She was a precious burden, and he did not resent the weight. She was limp in his arms, lifeless now. It was funny: they always seemed to be so much heavier than he expected

It was just difficult to carry her head and support it properly, not letting it loll back and open up her wound even further.

Pacific Cove was so dead at night. No pun intended by that, of course, but he had always noticed it. He was the kind of man who liked to walk in the solitude, to enjoy the quiet. He always had been. It was nicer, sometimes, to walk around here without anyone else to spoil it. To judge you, or make you feel judged. To try to talk to you, when you didn’t have the words to make the small talk they expected.

On balance, he would rather be around people, but the quiet of the night had plenty of advantages too. And this was one of them: taking his time, giving Cici the respect and care that she deserved. Making sure that she found her final placement without being interrupted.

He had chosen the spot carefully. He didn’t like to move too far from the first place he had found them; it seemed more respectful to keep them close, to let them take their rest as soon as possible. And this spot was a good one, even if not quite as good as the last. There had to be a certain amount of compromise. He wouldn’t have risked walking all the way back to the marketplace tonight, so this spot had to be the one.

He laid her down gently, supporting her head to the last and then smoothing out her hair, letting it fan around her head like she was a princess in a book. Which she was, of course. She was a princess to him. Now, no one would ever be able to treat her otherwise.

He laid a hand on her forehead carefully for a moment, as if to make sure that she was resting as peacefully as she could. Then he arranged her arms, crossing them over on her chest so that they formed a kind of cup, a space where the candle could sit without falling. Rigor mortis was only just beginning to set in, but once it was complete, she would hold the candle still and safe. It would be quick enough now that he knew he could set her up and leave her, letting her take the same rest as the others.

He placed the candle where it needed to be and tightened her arms just a little, checking his work. She looked peaceful. Content, even. Perfect. She was never again going to be at risk of losing this. As she was now, so she would be forever in the memories of those who knew her. Young, beautiful, and perfect. That was a part of it all, a gift that he hoped would satisfy them as they looked down on him and what he had done from above.

It was time to light the candle. He stood reverentially above her to take out the box of matches from his pocket, selecting one in the dim light that seemed to be a good fit. He struck it against the side of the box until it flared into life, a burst of orange which pushed the darkness backwards.

He stooped to light the candle and touched the match to the wick, waiting for it to catch. When it did, he drew away slowly, making sure that it had stuck and wasn’t going to blow out immediately.

He cursed, shaking his hand in the air as he dropped the match, feeling the burn on his fingers. It had only been for a moment, and he suspected there was no real damage, but the match was gone into the darkness, skittering across the ground and going out before he had a chance to see where it had landed. It was somewhere outside the small circle of light cast by the candle; he could lift the candle now to check for it, but that would mean taking it out of Cici’s hands, and it was burning already, and he might not be able to get it back in if he did that.

He crouched low, brushing his fingers over the ground, feeling the rough surface and trying to identify one thing that should not be there. But before he found it, he heard voices nearby – voices coming back, no doubt, to one of the cars parked around him.

The match was gone, and he wasn’t going to find it before they reached him.

He had to decide whether to let it go – and fast.

With one last internal curse, he cast a last glance at the floor and, seeing nothing, started to run on swift and quiet feet as far as he could get from the glow of Cici’s candle.

Tags: Blake Pierce Thriller
Source: readsnovelonline.net