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Back We Were Killers Once Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty–one
  25. Twenty–two
  26. Twenty–three
  27. Twenty–four
  28. Twenty–five
  29. Twenty–six
  30. Twenty–seven
  31. Twenty–eight
  32. Twenty–nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty–one
  35. Thirty–two
  36. Thirty–three
  37. Thirty–four
  38. Thirty–five
  39. Thirty–six
  40. Thirty–seven
  41. Thirty–eight
  42. Thirty–nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty–one
  45. Forty–two
  46. Forty–three
  47. Forty–four
  48. Forty–five
  49. Forty–six
  50. Forty–seven
  51. Forty–eight
  52. Forty–nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty–one
  55. Fifty–two
  56. Fifty–three
  57. Fifty–four
  58. Fifty–five
  59. Fifty–six
  60. Fifty–seven
  61. Author’s Note
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. Also by Becky Masterman
  64. About the Author
  65. Newsletter Sign-up

“Maybe that’s just what they caught me on. Maybe drug dealing wasn’t the worst thing I did,” Beaufort said, gritting his teeth. He turned his head to look out the passenger window of the car and hummed an old tune. When the tune came to a rest he’d make a little popping sound with his lips as he always did. This continued until they reached the bus station. Beaufort opened the car door.

“See you,” the guy said.

“Tell Yanchak I’ll be in touch when I’m ready.” In prison he had learned that you don’t let people get away with anything, or you won’t survive. Beaufort took his left hand and put it on the back of the guy’s head in what seemed like a peaceable gesture. Then he slammed the head forward, hard, onto the steering wheel. Beaufort looked inside himself and noted that he didn’t take pleasure in the act and that he held himself back from actually breaking the guy’s nose. He only did it from long instinct, to be tough so you didn’t have to look over your shoulder all the time. And it let out a little of the built-up anger. After this he would be more careful to adapt to life outside.

Starting now. He said, “Thanks for the ride,” gave his palm a swipe on his jeans to get off the hair oil, and left the car.

Four

Pascagoula had changed some but not much. The same long buildings that made up the strip malls from the eighties were there, they just had different names on them. White Castle was now a Taco Bell. Krispy Klean laundromat was now a Nice Nails.

The bus station was in the same place, only with decades more of grime built up. And two blocks away was the same library. Beaufort noted that.

But first, go to the Ace Hardware (which hadn’t changed in fifty years) and get a short hank of twine to keep up his jeans. He stepped around the corner outside, looped the rope around his waist, tied it, and pulled his shirt over so no one could see he didn’t have a belt.

Second, use the money he saved on a belt for a large burrito and a strawberry shake to fill his belly for a long walk.

Third, take that long walk. He smiled to himself, thinking how that phrase was one used for men going to their execution. In his case, he was going to make sure it was never used in that context.

On the way out of town, he passed the kind of motel off old Interstate 90 where truckers stayed. He asked if they had rooms and they said sure, plenty.

Would they hold one for a few hours?

Sure. Did he have a credit card?

No.

Then no.