Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Don’t spill your beans

Hunter slept that entire night like never in his life, switching between a dreamless slumber that relieved him of all his worries and a garish nightmare about being chained to a table while feeling a screeching pain in his head. The pendulum of his mind swung violently before he awoke with a shudder. He found himself lying in his bed as the sweat formed below his nose slowly dripped onto his lips. The rays of the sun flared on the wooden floorboards at the end of his bed, showing it had been morning a long time ago. The time on the clock reinforced his belief as it showed half-past ten in the morning. Hunter slowly pushed himself out of his bed and spent the next hour pouring buckets of water onto his head as the memories from last night slowly made their way back into his mind.

After much time had passed, Hunter stepped out of the bathroom and started packing his bags, for he had decided it was time to leave. As Hunter tidied everything up and adorned his coat, he placed his hand inside and brought out the wallet to see if everything had indeed happened as the way he remembered. As he sifted through the notes, the final tally was five hundred and sixty pounds, reaffirming the legitimacy of the events that had transpired last afternoon and last night. Hunter's mind felt a shudder of joy upon seeing the money, but a part of him wished that it was all his mind tricking him, for he could not bring himself to believe what he had witnessed in Henry's room last night. "Every night for the past nine years." The words echoed through Hunter's ears as he picked his bag and walked to the door. As he twisted the knob and pushed the door, he felt a slight resistance followed by a clinking sound.

Hunter saw a glass rolling on the floor, and upon picking it up, he realized it was the same glass he had drunk from last night as he could make out the residual drops of whiskey still lingering on the bottom. As he held the glass, Hunter's hands began to fidget slightly as he, without thinking, put it inside his bag. Seeing the time, Hunter knew Henry had left, and the glass was perhaps a parting gift. Hunter tried not to think about it too much, instead of focusing on his situation. He walked downstairs and where he found Shaw sitting by the reception with his book in hand.

The sound of Hunter's boots had alerted Shaw to his presence, and he put down the book and turned to him, saying, "you're up early. Breakfast is over. If you want something to eat, have to wait for a couple more hours."

"That won't be necessary. I am leaving."

"Thought you were supposed to stay the week," said Shaw.

"No, I have to get back. How much do I have to pay?" said Hunter as he handed over the key and took out his wallet.

"25 pounds," said Shaw.

Hunter put two ten-pound and a five-pound note on the reception table which Shaw stared at for a moment before pushing them back.

"Don't worry about it," said Shaw.

Hunter looked at him with surprise as he pocketed back the money. After saying goodbye, he walked out the door and started walking on the dirt road. On his way, he saw Genevieve standing near the corner of the lodge, her face looking distraught. Hunter thought about waving at her or even walking up and talking to her, but he only let out a wry smile as he continued his way.

After walking for a while, Hunter stopped beside an old oak tree to rest. He looked in the direction of the lodge and thought about the night he arrived and the scuffle with the lodgekeeper. He remembered that Shaw was this close to opening that envelope and seeing the contents inside, and had he done that instead of throwing it away, things would have turned a lot grimmer.

Hunter sighed as he tapped his pants left front pocket, where he had securely kept the envelope. A moment later, a glacial chill went down his spine. Hunter sprang up as he realized it was not in his pocket. He frantically checked the remaining compartments, along with sifting through every single possession in his bag, but to his horror, the packet was nowhere to be found.

To add a mountain to his misery, Hunter remembered that he had put the photograph of the Devil's Chapel incident along with Angela's picture and the letter all into that green envelope. Despaired and horrid, Hunter once again looked in the direction of the lodge as one thought pounded his heart like a sledgehammer: Had he left it in his room back at the lodge?

Realizing there was no option, he started walking back where he came from, all the while praying in his mind that the letter was not where he feared it would be, and even if that were the case, under no circumstance should anyone get their hands on it. After running for what seemed to be hours through the twisty road, Hunter could see Shaw's lodge on the horizon, the meadow stretching behind it. Trying to calm his nerves, Hunter stopped for a moment to catch his breath, afterward once again, finding himself walking up to the door of the two-storied house.

The door was open, and Hunter stepped in. He saw Shaw sitting by the reception, reading his book, just like before Hunter had left. However, this time, Shaw did not immediately put the book down until Hunter walked up to him and said, "I left some of my things."

"Hmm. Must be very important, seeing how you ran all the way back here," said Shaw.

"Could I have the key? It'll only take a moment," said Hunter, realizing that he was still gasping for air.

"Hmm," murmured Shaw as he took out a key from behind the table and tossed it towards Hunter.

Hunter sighed a massive relief as he started walking up the stairs. However, the moment soon turned sour, as Hunter saw a familiar face coming down the stairs. Hunter could feel his heart skip several beats as Genevieve quietly brushed past him without acknowledging his existence. However, the momentary stare of her piercing blue eyes that Hunter had not failed to notice screamed that his worst fear had come true. Hunter saw her walking outside as Shaw remained doused in his reading. A sense of hopelessness and fear clung to Hunter's mind as he trod towards door number two, knowing deep down those things had gotten infinitely worse.

Hunter twisted the doorknob, and it swung open without needing to put a key. Trembling, he walked towards the bedside table and, upon seeing the envelope lying carelessly, further amplified his agony. He could tell it had been opened, and even though all the contents were present, Hunter was certain that his eyes were not the only ones that had read the papers. He realized the graveness of the situation he was in, and as his mind started running a mile a minute, he put the envelope back in his pocket and hurried downstairs.

"You got what you needed?" asked Shaw

"Yes."

"Hmm." murmured Shaw.

"Say...going back would take about an hour, and there isn't another train after two in the afternoon. So, I was hoping if I could stay the night...."

"Same room?" asked Shaw as he finally put his book down.

"Yes. Ten pounds, was it?" Hunter asked.

"Well, if you want dinner, then yes."

"Okay, here you go. Thank You."

Hunter pulled out a crisp ten-pound note which belonged to the pile of money he picked from the old man at the station and placed it on the counter.

"Hmm." Shaw put it into the drawer before shifting his focus back to reading.

The autumn wind had become chillier, hinting at the presence of winter lurking around the corner. Hunter strolled towards the riverbank, which twisted and turned as the water meandered through the meadows far into the hills. The grass had started to lose its vibrancy in the growing cold, thereby adding a final touch of drabness to the already gloomy scenery. However, amid this bland palette, a bright red cloth grabbed Hunter's eyes, which after examining for a moment from afar and being assured, he started walking in its direction at full pace, desperately hoping to catch the person adorning it.

After a full minute of walking, Hunter reached the bank and found the lodgekeeper's daughter aimlessly gazing at the water. Even though she saw Hunter arriving, Genevieve did not say anything. Hunter momentarily stared at her scarf, its scarlet color illuminating against the landscape from afar like the bulb at the front of the lodge at night.

"I'm leaving tonight. You don't have to worry," said Hunter, breaking the silence that had slowly settled for quite some time.

"Worry about what?" said Genevieve as she slowly turned her head and looked at Hunter.

Her indifferent tone made Hunter nervous as he sat down beside her.

"I'm not going to hurt anyone. I don't want any trouble," said Hunter.

"Well, with Papa around, you won't be able to do much," said Genevieve.

Hunter stared at her, surprised as she added, "I know what happened the night you arrived."

"Why did Shaw let me stay here? Even after knowing that...."

"Well, you are not here to hurt anyone. You said so yourself," answered Genevieve.

The nonchalance on her part took Hunter aback, who had envisioned a completely different reaction.

"Either they are mad, or something's wrong. Did she tell Shaw...Are the police coming...?" Hunter thought to himself as a dreadful feeling enveloped his entire person.

"The letter, did you read it?" asked Hunter directly.

"Hmmm."

"About....what was in there. I am telling you I didn't have a..."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Genevieve, looking confused.

"I just wanted to let you know I don't mean any harm."

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"Hmm, okay," said Genevieve.

The indifference only made Hunter quiver with further uneasiness until he involuntarily blurted out, "My luck's rotten, and I guess God doesn't like me trying to do something about it."

There was a long pause until Genevieve calmly asked, "Did you kill her?"

Hunter let out a sigh of fatigue with a look of despair immediately following appearing on his face.

Usually, he would protest the accusation wholeheartedly, but he took a solemn tone for some unknown reason, becoming thoughtful as though reminiscing about something significant. "You know it's been almost fifteen years since I've been living on the streets or close to it. Out of those fifteen years, I spent a year and a half in Northwood Prison because the garage owner where I used to work said I stole from him. I hadn't taken a penny, never even thought about it, but it didn't matter as he was friends with the local inspector. They knocked on my door early in the morning and dragged me with them without hearing anything I had to say. For them, I was already guilty, and after spending the night at the station, they threw me in the hole." Hunter said.

"But in the end, you were freed?" asked Genevieve.

Hunter said with a cold smile, "No."

"Then how did you get out?" asked Genevieve.

"After rotting for eighteen months, my friend Hardin bailed me out. He used to live next to me in the shacks on Harker Street. When they picked me up, he was doing time down in Norfolk, and it wasn't before a year after me going inside that he was released. He had thought I had simply taken off or been stabbed in some dingy alleyway. After finding out that I had been inside, he somehow scraped together enough money for the bail."

Hunter paused and turned suddenly, looking directly into Genevieve's eyes before letting out a smirk.

"You know what's funny? After getting out, I found that there never was any case against me. Soon after, they took me; the garage owner, Mr. Warton, had found the stolen money. Turns out it was "just" an accounting error. Since there was never any case and they had already transferred me to the state prison, no one bothered to present me in front of a judge. After all, there was nobody on the outside who would go through all that trouble for me. "Caught up in some technicalities." That was what the warden had said while signing my release papers."

Hunter sighed.

"That was six years ago, but every single day of those eighteen months is burned into my brain just because some tie-wearing cunt didn't know how to add numbers properly. If it weren't for Hardin, who knows how long I would have been caught up in technicalities. Every fucking day I would ask the warden, the on-duty guards, about my release, but after a few minutes of being beaten up like a dog, there was nothing left to do except curse my fate."

Hunter paused for a moment before continuing, "I tried to be a decent man, but my luck wouldn't have it. I can't tell you everything but know this, I didn't do it out of my own will."

"So, you did kill her in cold blood," Genevieve remarked.

"What else could I do? If they get me, they'll hang me even before I open my mouth. I have nowhere to go, no one to ask for help."

"What about your friend Hardin? You could have told him about whatever situation you are in."

Hunter did not say anything, but it was visible from his face that something about the line had struck him heavily. His eyes glimmered in the afternoon light before giving way to a small shed of tear, which, although he swiftly wiped away, did not escape Genevieve's sight.

"What happened?" asked Genevieve.

Softening his voice, Hunter said, "I would've told him if he could listen."

"Are you not on good terms?" asked Genevieve.

A despaired smile appeared on Hunter's face as he coldly said, "Well, considering he is six feet under the ground, I don't think he would be of much help now."

Genevieve remained silent for a moment.

"He is dead, in case you were wondering," clarified Hunter upon seeing the visible confusion on her face.

"Oh, Mon Dieu! I'm so sorry! What happened?" asked Genevieve.

Hunter once again remained silent, pondering over something.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me," said Genevieve.

"There's nothing to say. He just died. Natural causes," replied Hunter.

A moment of silence befell once again before Genevieve got up.

"I should go. Papa must be looking for me."

Hunter nodded.

As she left, Hunter gazed at the setting sun which had gone down halfway through the horizon, reminiscing about old times. Suddenly his mind shifted to the conversation that had just transpired. He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking about this sudden outburst of loquaciousness to a girl that he had met only days before, about whom he did not know very much.

Ever since Hunter had run away, he had been wildly unhinged, which caused him to make impetuous decisions. But at the same time, Hunter could not help but feel a slight morsel of relief after being able to say what was on his mind. After Hardin's death, no one was there to hear him out, even trying and understand him as he struggled on. Perhaps even in Genevieve's indifference, she bothered to listen, which prompted him to pour his heart out, a decision he now had mixed feelings about. Although the momentary confession felt freeing, a part of him regarded it as muddying the waters.

As he made his way to the lodge's door, Hunter saw Shaw standing on the front porch, looking in his direction with an unsmiling face. The bulbs on the top corners poorly lit the area but somehow managed to capture the lodgekeeper's grave and pondering silhouette. The lodgekeeper did not say a word as Hunter passed him by, but he endearingly felt the fury in Shaw's gaze.

"You got anything for dinner?" asked Hunter to ease the situation.

Shaw remained silent.

The quietness started to get to Hunter as he said again, "Can I have something to eat?"

"Wait at the table," said Shaw curtly, with his distinctive coarse voice.

Hunter quickly walked inside, feeling slightly relieved at getting himself out of what seemed to be a strange but tense conversation or lack thereof.

The dinner was eerily uneventful, with a dash of roasted beans and beef that seemed to lack any sort of flavor or seasoning. Hunter quietly munched on the food, unnerved by Shaw's eyes that remained fixated on him for prolonged periods. Usually, Shaw was always observant, and every night at dinner for the past week, he would eye Hunter more or less, showing his irritation and distrust but never quite saying anything to preserve the courtesy of a host towards a guest; a guest that was paying of course.

But tonight, something was seemed out of order, for Shaw was not eating but instead attentively watching Hunter, his eyes fixed like a hawk circling its prey, waiting to spear down when given the opportunity. Hunter's mind started to grow restless with every mouthful as a whirlwind of frightening scenarios started playing in his head. He began to gravely wonder if he had exceedingly overstayed his welcome. After all, the circumstances of his and Shaw's introduction were not regular by any stretch of the word, and most importantly, Shaw knew that Hunter was not a tourist who had come this far for sightseeing. Perhaps the lodgekeeper knew that Hunter was running from something; that much was evident to anyone with minimal observation skills and logical thinking. But could he have figured out what he was running from or what he had done?

"Did...did he ask Genevieve....or did she tell him.... she must have said something...I knew it was stupid. I should have knocked her out and ran the moment she had got hold of..." Hunter suddenly started coughing as his train of thought had caused him to become inattentive towards his food.

Seeing him cough, Shaw slowly pushed the glass of water towards him.

A moment later, as Hunter was about to reach for it, he cupped the glass with his hand, leaned forward, and, in almost a soundless tone, whispered, "Careful now. You'll spill those beans, or worse still, they'll get stuck in your throat."

Before Hunter could say anything, Shaw abruptly stood up and started walking towards his room.

"Leave the plates when you are done. I'll take care of it.... later."

Hunter quietly finished his dinner, although the incident had withered whatever had been left of his appetite.

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