Dead of Summer - Page 108

I’ve never understood why cherry is the one flavor he carries, but I definitely don’t mind. I grab a can as he moves half-empty cases of marshmallows out of the way, until he can finally grab and shoulder a full, unopened cardboard case from the back. “You’re lucky I remembered to order these,” he tells me, his boots thudding on the floor as he makes his way back to the front. “This is the last week of camp, right?”

“Right,” I confirm, setting my cherry pie filling on the counter. Tossing him the twenty for the case that I’d taken out of our camp funds jar, I dig in the pocket of my denim shorts for the bills and quarters I’d jammed in there when I’d learned we were coming into town.

“Nah, don’t worry about paying for that.” Dan waves me off. “I’ve got too many cans of it, anyway.”

My tongue itches to ask why the hell he keeps ordering it, and why it’s the one flavor he does carry, but instead I smile gratefully at him. “Thanks. I’m going to hoard it and eat it at night after the kids have tried to stage a rebellion.”

“With all those kids there, I have no doubt you need all the help you can get.” He takes the twenty and presses a few buttons on the old cash register before tossing the bill in and slamming it closed. I’d used to think he was just aggressive, but I’ve learned that if he doesn’t slam it, the drawer won’t stay shut. “If it were me, I’d be smoking a pack a day and hiding a bottle of Jack anywhere I could.”

“They aren’t that bad,” I protest, still smiling. “Oh, hey, before I go. Quick question?” Dan nods, but his attention is back on his phone and he puffs on his cigarette so the end glows orange.

I don’t know how to ask him tactfully. I’m not like Kayde, with a good mask and sly cunning that makes it so no one suspects me of wrongdoing.

But I am determined, and innocent of actually being a murderer. Surely those count for something, even if I’ve never tried to gather information like in the movies.

“Have you seen anyone new around? We had someone come up to the camp, but I have no idea who it was. Wasn’t sure if you’d seen anything…memorable?” That’s as well as I can put it, I think, while being somewhat subtle.

Dan thinks about it, then shakes his head before giving a slightly apologetic grunt. That seems to be how Dan mostly communicates; in grunts, sighs, and rolling of his eyes. It’s admirable, and I hope when I’m old and crotchety, I can learn the language.

Though I’d like to do so without the constant cigarette dangling from my lips.

“Must’ve been just us getting unlucky then, I guess.” I laugh, like I’m dismissing the whole thing. “Thank you again. The kids won’t riot tonight, and that’s the main thing.” Dan just nods, and I wrap my arms around the case of marshmallows before heading to the door, my can of cherries perched on top.

Thankfully for me, Kayde had left the truck unlocked. He isn’t back—I hadn’t expected him to be—but I’m able to shove the marshmallows in the back of the truck and set the cherry pie filling in the back seat, like it’s a passenger, before backing up enough to close the door again.

Immediately, however, I stop. My whole body pauses, and I narrow my eyes at my reflection in the large side mirror, holding my own gaze.

Why do I feel so strange?

I rub my arms absently where gooseflesh has broken out, and study my surroundings in the mirror with curiosity. There’s nothing wrong. Nothing has happened. And unless I’ve developed a sixth sense for…something, then I really can’t figure out why I suddenly feel so uncomfortable.

So vulnerable.

The hair on the back of my neck rises, and I fight not to turn around and look for someone staring daggers at me. I don’t need to. I shouldn’t, at least. There wasn’t anyone in the parking lot when I’d walked out here, and surely no one has popped up since I’ve been leaning in the truck.

But I give in anyway and turn quickly, as if I can catch something out of the corner of my eye if I move fast enough.

All I end up with for my trouble and near whiplash, however, is a view of an empty parking lot backed up by the woods beyond.

Something snaps in the trees, and while I know that it’s definitely just the sounds of nature, I still let my steps take me closer to the woods, eyes narrowed.

There can’t be someone there.

Every shadow seems too dark. Every slightly waving limb makes me want to jump into the air as I close the distance between me and the edge of the trees. Maybe if I just get a bit further, I can convince myself there’s nothing there. Maybe if I?—

A hand on my shoulder does make me jump, and I yelp in surprise as I whirl around, only to see Kayde behind me, concern on his face. “Hey, hey!” he raises his hands in surrender. “It’s just me, okay?” But he looks past me, into the trees, as the breeze picks up to rustle the leaves. “Something out there?”

“I…” I turn with him, and find myself automatically leaning into his chest as I still clutch my arms. “No, I guess not.” One of his arms snakes up around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. “Did you find out anything?”

Kayde doesn’t reply for a few long moments. He just watches the trees while the breeze catches his curls and pulls them forward around his face. “No,” he murmurs finally, letting out a sigh. “Nothing at all.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

With my feet crunching on dead leaves and grass, I can’t help but feel like every small noise I make is amplified by ten times what it should be. I make myself jump on more than one occasion.

“I don’t know how you walk like that,” I call to the stalking, shadowy figure behind me that manages to make absolutely no noise.

Even Kayde’s soft chuckle seems muted in the dark, though he closes the few feet of distance between us and lets his shoulder bump against mine. “I’ll teach you,” he promises, murmuring the words into my ear. “Then maybe you could sneak up on a deaf old lady with some kind of success, instead of letting everyone and everything in a ten-mile radius know exactly where we are at all times, hmm?” He says the words sweetly, kindly, but they’re too much of a taunt for me to do anything but scrunch my nose and glare at my psychopath.