I drive an hour before I find a decent spot to dump the van. I pull over into a bramble thicket, climb out, and leave it there. Eventually it’ll run out of gas and sit there until someone finds it. Or it’ll sit there forever.

I get out my phone and call an Uber. The guy that comes to pick me up isn’t happy about how far I want to go, but he feels better when I offer to pay him double, once through the app and again in cash. We drive in silence, and that’s how I like it.

It gives me time to reflect on my problems.

I don’t want to think of Amelia as a problem, but I think it’s fair to say that she’s at least a liability. She’s not trained and used to this, and I threw her right into the deep end. I’m as much to blame as she is, and I can’t hold it entirely against her.

But the cops looking for her is very, very bad. She’s not going to like it, but she’s going to have to lay low for a while if she wants to stay with me.

That brings up another issue. She freaked out earlier when I told her about the cops. I expected her to be worried, but not to have a minor meltdown. It took me a few minutes to realize that she’s afraid of going to jail, probably more afraid of that than she is of getting caught or getting killed.

She’d rather die than become a prisoner again. She’s so obsessed with her freedom, since she’s never had any. I don’t want to take that away from her, and so she’s going to be very unhappy when I tell her that she needs to stay indoors.

It’s going to feel like a prison again. I don’t know how well she’ll take it or how long she’ll last.

Maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe since it’s her choice to stay and lay low it’ll be fine. It is her choice, too. I won’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do, not anymore. Not after what I saw.

To be honest, that scared me. I didn’t expect her to react that way, and it makes me question her ability to hold it together through all this. I know she’s strong and tough, but she has her darkness and her demons to deal with, just like I do. Her demons might make her a liability, though, because this job takes serious dedication and steadiness.

I want to bring her along. I realized that the day I let her out of the basement. Maybe I didn’t know I missed something in my life, but I know it now. I need a partner, or honestly, I need her.

There’s something about her that I can’t look away from. I don’t want to be worried about her ability to hold it together, but I have to be honest with myself. I have to think of my purpose.

I have to think of all the very bad, very dead men I’ve left in my wake. Can I even be with someone if I’m just a killer at heart?

The drive goes by quickly and eventually the Uber guy drops me within a ten-minute walk of my property. I pay him, as promised, and head back home, head down and hands in my pockets. No cars pass me on the street, which is good, and it’s dark by the time I make it back to the house.

“Hello?” I call out as I walk into the kitchen. “Amelia?”

There’s silence for a second. I grab a glass and pour myself a glass of whisky before going to the foot of the stairs.

“Amelia?” I call out again.

“Up here,” she answers.

I walk upstairs, glass in hand. She’s standing in front of the mirror in her bathroom wearing only a thin black t-shirt and a pair of pink panties. She has a pair of scissors in her hand and she’s giving herself a haircut.

I can’t help but smile as I lean up against the doorjamb. “Looks good,” I say.

She looks back at me. “Really? I’ve only ever done this once before.”

“Really. I can help clean it up.”

Her hair was down to about the middle of her back before, but she cut it up to her shoulders. I’m glad she didn’t go shorter. She has beautiful, thick hair, and it’s part of what I like about her.

I walk up to her and take the scissors from her hand. She lets me, watching me cautiously as I gently even out her hair.

“We can dye it lighter too,” I say. “I’ll cut mine shorter and dye it darker.”

“Okay,” she says. “That sounds good.”

I finish after a few minutes and step back. “What do you think?”

She smiles at me. “You’re pretty good at that.”

“It’s easy when you start off with something attractive.”

She grins at me in an easy and affectionate way. “Are you calling me attractive?”

“You know I am.” I put the scissors back down on the counter then grab her hips.

She kisses me lightly on the mouth. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“This is all just new to me.”

“I get it.” I pause and release her waist. “I should tell you something, though.”

“What is it?”

“I need you to stay inside for a little while.” I pause, waiting for her reaction.

There isn’t one.

“Oh?” she asks.

“Just for a little bit. If you want to stay, and I want you to, but if you do you’ll have to lay low until the heat blows over.”

She nods, her face expressionless. “If that’s what you want.”

I pick up my glass and sip it. “It’s what we have to do.”

“Fine.” She turns back to the mirror and inspects her hair.

I can tell she just went a bit cold, but at least she didn’t blow up. “I’ll start dinner.”

“Then we can give you a trim.” She forces herself to smile at me.

I smile back. “Sure. Sounds good.”

I leave the bathroom, drink in hand, not sure what to think.

We can’t keep going like this. The whorehouse is still out there, and I can’t wait on it. I have to start doing my research on them or else risk letting them get away. And I suspect she isn’t going to be happy about me leaving her alone in the house.

It’ll have to do. I go down into the kitchen, gather together some ingredients, and start to cook. I’ll feed her and we’ll go one step at a time.