Chapter 6: Confessions and Suspicions

That afternoon, I took Natalie shopping for clothes and daily necessities.

We hit up Target, grabbing a cart and wandering the aisles. Natalie’s eyes went wide as she fingered soft fabrics and sniffed bottles of shampoo. She marveled at the automatic doors and laughed at the price of things she remembered being cheaper years ago.

Along the way, she drank in the scenery, curious about everything.

We drove through town—past the high school football field and the boarded-up movie theater. Every new sight seemed to lift a little weight off her shoulders.

Five years is a long time—the outside world had changed.

She stared out the window at people scrolling their phones, kids on e-scooters, the endless parade of SUVs with out-of-state plates. I could see her soaking it all in, trying to make sense of how fast life moved now.

On the way back, she clung to me more, brushing against me as we walked.

Her arm looped around mine, her laughter bubbling up at the smallest joke. Every touch sent a jolt through me. I knew I’d have her soon.

Back home, someone knocked at the door.

Through the peephole, I saw Mike’s greasy face.

I opened the door a crack, annoyed.

"What do you want?"

He grinned, wedged the door open, craning his neck to peek inside.

"Bro, we’ve lived here so long but never hung out. I’ve set a table at my place—come have a drink."

I sneered inwardly. Mike was notoriously stingy—if he was being generous, he must want something.

As I was about to refuse, he leaned in and whispered, "I think I know who killed the landlady’s dog. Come over and I’ll tell you."

A chill ran down my spine. I followed him, almost in a daze.

At his place, he’d really splurged—takeout from the best spots, a bottle of whiskey.

He toasted me again and again.

"Bro, you’re amazing—always bringing home such fine women. I rarely admire anyone, but you, I admire."

His flattery made me grin and drink more.

He filled my glass again, sidled up with a sly smile.

"Bro, teach me—where do you find these women? Not only pretty, but obedient too. Even mail-order brides aren’t this good."

I sneered, finally seeing his real motive.

If I told him, what would I have left?

I put a finger to my lips and shook my head.

"It’s my special skill. You wouldn’t get it."

He didn’t get mad, just kept buttering me up.

No one had ever flattered me so much. It felt good, so I kept drinking.

Soon, my vision blurred.

But I didn’t forget to ask who killed the landlady’s dog.

Mike’s voice drifted.

"Last night, around two or three, I heard your door open. Half an hour later, it closed. The dog was killed by that woman in your apartment."

I lifted my heavy head to protest, but then remembered Natalie’s knife skills and the dog’s perfectly skinned hide.

Mike grinned.

"That chick did time, right?"

A chill ran through me, but the alcohol weighed me down.

"I’ve done time too—you can always tell. The cell’s so small, you can’t take big steps. She walks, every stride the length of a cell floor tile."

His laughter grew louder, his face fuzzier.

"No wonder you scored such a top-shelf woman. That’s the trick. I’ve done time—I know. Once you’re out, you’ll do anything not to go back."

"Tell me, if I told that chick in your place that I know she killed the dog, then did something to her, would she dare call the cops?"

I tried to stand but collapsed to the floor. Darkness swallowed me.

I heard the clink of bottles and Mike’s voice drifting off as everything went black, my mind filled with images of Natalie and that knife, slicing clean through layers of pork and skin alike.