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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

Gloria finished her bandaging, led him from the bathroom, and patted a place next to her on the bed. He sat down, waiting. She was so cute when she tried to take charge.

“He taught me some meditation techniques you might use,” she said. “You put your fingers like this and tap each one with your thumb while you say, ‘Sah. Nah. Tah. Mah.’” She illustrated, and looked at him expectantly. Beaufort could not bring himself to do something so idiotic, and he sat there watching her, wondering what planet he was on.

Gloria didn’t appear to notice. “There’s breathing that goes with it, too,” she went on. “Breathe in on a count of three, then breathe out on a longer count of seven. Try it. Sah. Nah. Tah…”

Beaufort placed the backs of his hands on his thighs with the fingers up and slightly curled. He stopped short of saying the nonsense, but tried the breathing and the finger tapping. After a couple of rounds he couldn’t force himself to go on no matter how well-intentioned Gloria was. So this was the world, he thought, with its pathetic pretense that it was more civilized and in control of itself than the world he’d been part of for thirty years. He started laughing, and took her into his arms. “You don’t need a life coach anymore, babe,” he said. “I’ll take care of you, and you’re never going to be hurt again.”

He had one of his dreams that night, woke up to Gloria holding him, stroking his damp hair and cuddling him like a mother. The sight of her face was what told him it was only a nightmare, all the screams and bloodied flesh. He wished he could tell Gloria the joy he felt upon waking, because in the dream he had tremendous remorse about the killing. A monster wouldn’t feel bad like that about the killing, would he? Maybe not even have nightmares at all. Certainly not feel joy upon waking and realizing he hadn’t done it this time.

Beaufort stroked Gloria’s face the way she was stroking his while he thought if you really knew me you would not love me.

At that thought, as quickly as if his emotions were on a toggle switch, the joy plunged back into the despair of the dream. He could find Hickock’s confession, and the nightmares could stop. To do so, he could kill every person in his way, and loathe the necessary killing with all his heart. But the only thing he could never do, he could never stop being Jeremiah Beaufort with Jeremiah Beaufort’s past. He was stuck with all of himself.

Nineteen

I thought this was a good opportunity to see if our new friend was just lonely, or stalking lonely, or on the con in general, or targeting me in specific. So, dinner as well as stargazing.