Edmund Graves's Arc

Chapter 11 of 12

The flashlight beam swept Edmund's front windows and held there. He stood still in his dark kitchen. He did not know who held the light. If it was the deputy, Edmund had minutes before a knock and a badge. If it was only a neighbor, he could still run tonight. He needed the answer before he moved. A wrong guess meant walking straight into an arrest. He pulled his own curtain back one inch. Sarah's dark house sat across the road. A vehicle idled at her curb. The beam swung to her porch, then back to Edmund's place, patient and searching. A deputy would circle. A curious neighbor would give up. So Edmund waited and watched what the light did. It came toward him. Boots crossed the road. The beam bounced with each step. Edmund killed his last lamp and reached under the sink for the hammer he kept wrapped in a rag. His car sat behind the house, keys in his pocket. If he had to, he would take this man quiet and drive. Knuckles rapped his door. "Mr. Graves? You home?" Edmund cracked the door on the chain. A man stood on the step in a pressed gray suit, hands folded, polite as a churchgoer. Not a uniform. Not a gun on the hip. The flashlight hung loose at his side. "Evening," the man said. "I'm sorry to come so late. I'm looking for Sarah Morrison. Her sister sent me. Sarah didn't answer at the house." He nodded toward the dark place across the road. "You know if she left?" Relief moved through Edmund's chest like cold water. Not the deputy. A messenger, nothing more. He kept his voice easy and slow. "She took her kids to town this afternoon," Edmund said. "Her sister's place, I think. You just missed her." The man's shoulders dropped. "That's a relief. Family got worried when she didn't call." He raised the flashlight in thanks. "Appreciate it. Sorry to bother you." Edmund watched the suit walk back across the road. The vehicle's door shut. Taillights shrank down the road and were gone. He unwrapped his fingers from the hammer and set it on the counter. His hands shook once, then stopped. But the relief did not last. Edmund understood what the visit meant. Sarah's sister was already worried. Sarah had already talked to her. Now a stranger had driven all the way out here at night to find her. Word about Edmund Graves was moving in town, from Sarah to her sister to whoever else would listen. He had the night. He no longer had tomorrow. The deputy had not come, but the deputy would come, guided by everything Sarah said. Thirteen kills sat one victim short, and Edmund had hours to close the gap before the road filled with cars that did not stop at Sarah's empty house. He picked up his bag.