Silent Killer

Cathy couldn’t ever remember feeling so damn good about doing something so bad. She had talked back to her mother, no doubt a sin that would condemn her to eternal hell fire. And she didn’t care. She had done what she had once believed would be impossible – she had stood up to her mother and survived. Not only had she survived, but she had been set free from a lifetime of knowing she would never live up to Elaine Nelson’s expectations.

As she strolled down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace, her mind savoring the preceding moments of personal glory, she didn’t pay any attention to the passing vehicles on the street.

“Running away from home?” a voice called out to her.

As she stopped and turned toward the sound of the voice, her breath caught in her throat when she saw that Jack Perdue had pulled his car over to the curb and had rolled down the passenger window.

“I might be,” she told him. “Got any suggestions where I should go?”

He slid across the seat, opened the door and said, “Yeah. Run away with me.”

“Okay.” Without hesitation, she got in the car with Jack.

He was right in her face; her shoulder pressed against his chest. They stared at each other for a full minute, one of the longest minutes of Cathy’s life. And then he slid back across the seat to the driver’s side and she slammed the door shut.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He grinned. “How about an early dinner somewhere?”

“Where?”

“Is the Catfish Shack still in business?”

“As far as I know. I haven’t been there in years.” Not since the last time he had taken her there.

The Catfish Shack was a seen-better-days restaurant and bar down by the river where the proprietor had a reputation for serving the best catfish and hushpuppies in six counties. The music was loud, the beer flowed like water, and the all the food was to-die-for. And better yet, Cathy was relatively sure none of her church-going friends would be there. The place was a little too lively for their tastes. And much too sinful.

She had been there only once, years ago, on a date with Jack. She had been seventeen and madly in love.

Jack glanced over his shoulder, back at Lorie’s house. “Do you need to tell anyone where you’re going?”

She shook her head.

“You really are running away, aren’t you?”

“Temporarily.”

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

“No, not really. I’d rather not think about what happened today or a year ago or eighteen months ago. I’d like to forget about all of it, just for a little while.”

“I’ll see what I can do to give you what you want.”

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