Chapter 130: 28

"Sure thing," the young barista smiled at Graeme. "You doing okay?" she asked.

He looked up to meet her questioning eyes, realizing now that he hadn't checked himself over well before coming in here. Did he look like he had just mauled someone in the woods? He glanced down at his clothes, and the girl chuckled when she saw his confusion.

"You just look tired. And you're definitely not from Ripon," her eyebrows shot up in amusement. "Are you lost?"

He allowed a small smile to form. "No. Just passing through. I have a long drive."

"And this is your dinner? There are a lot of good places to eat here, you know," she smiled. It was innocent and friendly, and he smiled back.

"Just don't send him to 28," another girl working behind her interjected as she turned with his coffee and sat it down on the counter.

The girl behind the register smirked. "Right. Although I think he would be safe," she answered, giving him a quick glance.

"What's 28?" Graeme cocked his head to the side. He knew they were talking about the pub, but he played into the conversation to hear what was behind this. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled to attention.

"Pub 28 across the square. There's just this guy…" she started, and Graeme swallowed.

"No, he's not a guy," the second girl interrupted. She turned to give the conversation her full attention and scanned the shop to make sure no one was there. Other than Graeme, the place was empty. She had a name tag with 'Emily' and a smiley face handwritten on it. "Drew is not a guy. He's a complete psychopath."

'Drew.' The name made Graeme's arms go cold. They were talking about the same guy he had been on his way to visit before deciding against it.

The first girl, 'Skylar' according to her name tag that was adorned with two smiley faces, winced in response.

"You wouldn't call him a psychopath? He has a horrible temper with men, he is annoyingly charming with women, he hates animals… he hit that dog last month. Remember? Little Susie's Australian Shepard? She was devastated. I swear he did it on purpose. I wouldn't be surprised if there are bodies buried in his backyard," Emily huffed in frustration.

Skylar glanced at Emily and chuckled nervously while she rang up Graeme's items. "Anything else for you?" she turned her attention back to Graeme, trying to smooth over the conversation with a polite smile.

"This will be fine. Thanks," he replied.

"You just haven't been the victim of it yet, Sky. Consider yourself lucky," Emily mumbled and started wiping down the counter.

"Victim?" Graeme couldn't help but repeat.

Something crackled in the air between the two girls. They didn't say anything, but he felt the atmosphere become heavier.

Skylar smoothed the black apron she was wearing, drying her hands while Emily's face flushed a bright red. The blush reminded him of August, and he gritted his teeth. Had this girl been through something similar?

The frustrated anger she had been venting before transformed into something else, and her eyes darted around self-consciously before she caught Graeme's on her.

"Oh, nothing. Never mind," she forced a smile before turning back to the counter behind her.

Graeme took the bag of food and his coffee as Skylar gave him a sad smile. "Have a safe drive!"

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When Graeme stepped out, his eyes returned to the pub on the corner. Perhaps he would have to pay Drew a visit after all.

Graeme threw his food in the car and stalked across the street.

The pub was dim with booths lining the exterior walls. Several booths and tables were occupied, but Graeme walked to the bar and sat down.

"Hey, big man," an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair approached Graeme from behind the bar. "What can I get ya?"

"How about tap 28?" Graeme asked.

"You got it," he replied. "Anything to eat for ya?"

"I'll try the nachos," Graeme said after scanning the menu.

Graeme sipped on the beer while he listened to the conversations of those around him. There was a young man with an apron leaning on one of the tables where several women were seated.

"Drew!" the bartender called, and the younger man turned. "Order of nachos."

"On it," Drew replied and disappeared into the kitchen.

The women at the table he had left started chatting quietly. "God, he's hot," one of them said.

"He gives me the creeps," another whispered.

"After Jane made that accusation about him last summer, I can't look at him the same."

"No one actually believes that happened though," the one who thought Drew was hot replied.

"She's not the only one, Mari," one of the women replied. They all went quiet at that, and Graeme had heard enough.

"You know, on second thought, I really have to be going," Graeme told the bartender and left him money to cover the drink and food. "Keep it."

Graeme returned to his car and drove it out of town until there was a nice dark stretch where he could pull off. He pushed back the internal arguments about why this was not a great idea as he stripped and threw his clothes in the trunk, then he ran back into town, blending with the shadows.

He had a feeling the trick to this guy was going to be getting him alone. Graeme waited, crouched in the bushes behind the small employee parking lot out back.

Since the pub didn't close until midnight, he decided to take a nap and catch up on some rest. During his time tracking strays, he had become accustomed to sleeping with one ear alert to his surroundings.

So when the back door of the pub slammed shut at 12:15, his eyes shot open instantaneously and narrowed to follow Drew Jackson's solitary form. He was alone after all.

It took a split second for Graeme to scan the surroundings for other movement and scents. It was late, and movement in the town square had stilled. A gentle breeze blew the scent of impending rain.

Drew was unlocking the door to his car when Graeme snarled and lunged—going straight for the throat. There was a flicker of fear before the man went down with Graeme's teeth clamped around his neck.. Graeme bit down until he heard the spine snap, then he shook.

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