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worth two grand.”
    “Under five hundred,”
Delaney said, pausing before she added, “Dollars.”
    “I got you covered,
girl.”
    “Thanks.” Delaney
ended the call and looked at the fresh oil splashed across the canvas. One
thing was missing.
    She moved to her
brush, lapping up the dark gray oil and layering it onto the barn to create two
menacing, serpent-like eyes barely visible in the barn. She set her brush down
in satisfaction; the eyes diligently looked back at her, following her swayed
body movement. It was the first step to removing Holston Parker from her life.
She needed to accept what had happened and discover who he really was. She
would turn the tables on him.
    She sank into the
chair, letting the rhythm of the rain soothe her as she reached for the
newspaper on her desk. June, who had subscribed to the daily Appleton newspaper
for the last fifteen years, had a habit of leaving the latest edition on
Delaney’s desk. June wasn’t like Ann Jones, who never read the paper; June read
each paper front to back every day over the blackest coffee. It was a habit,
she had once told Delaney, not about the coffee, but about reading the paper.
    Delaney picked up the
paper, reading the headline on the bottom right corner of the front page: “ Missing
Man, 38, from Green Bay.” Evie’s words echoed in her mind, he disappears
them. Kurt Dodd had vanished with no trace.
    “Striking,” his voice
pierced the air amid the thrashing of rain against the building. It spun
Delaney in her chair, her skin tingling beneath the loose cotton. His steady,
low voice different than just eight hours ago. Earlier, he was the
philanthropist. Holston Parker the Businessman . This voice was
different; the same as the night she had first met him. Holston Parker the
Murderer.
    “The barn. I see
you’ve continued our tradition,” he said, leaning against the doorframe of her
office as he closed the dripping umbrella. The water pooled on the floor, his
black oxfords beading away the moisture. The gray fedora lay lightly on his
head, free of any disturbance, as if he had walked in from a completely dry
summer night. Untouchable.
    “This barn is
different, the flames consuming it,” she replied evenly, despite the crawling
in her throat. She looked down at her phone, wondering how long he had been
standing there. The conversation with Kandy had only been finished moments
before.
    “Ann is doing well, I
see,” he said, taking his hat off to reveal the sheen of his hair. Delaney
studied the wrinkles surrounding his eyes and the shadows which hung beneath
them. She hadn’t remembered those wrinkles or the shadows. He looked different
- fatigued. “Her recovery is remarkable, if you ask me.”
    Delaney felt the
darkness swallow her as he stepped into the room.
    “Do you mind?” Holston
asked, not waiting for the response.
    “And if I did?”
    “Delaney, my love,
the hostility will change with time,” he said.
    “I don’t want to get
to know you,” she said as he moved into the chair next to the door.
    “Is this where Theron
sat?” His eyes scorched her, scratching beneath her chest as though they were
attempting to sear her soul. Theron’s scar pulsated in her mind, his skin split
open as blood poured out. “The case has finally been closed, and he will fully
recover, with time . Again, there it is. Time.”
    “Why are you here?”
Delaney asked.
    “I just had a little
meeting with a friend. President Givens and I have been friends for quite some
time, you know. We had some matters to settle, and they will be finalizing soon.
I was about to step outside when I saw your light was on. I thought I would
check on you,” he said. The last thing she wanted was to see him or to hear his
voice. She wanted nothing more than to erase him from her life.
    “I’ve done what you
have asked of me,” she started, the anger seeping into her words.
    “You have, and Mark
is doing well, performing to my expectations. The gala is in two