A Killing in the Hills - By Julia Keller Page 0,27

type, was another line: Belfa Elkins, Raythune County prosecuting attorney, vows to fight illegal prescription drug trade in West Virginia ‘with every resource this office can bring to bear upon the tragic, multigenerational epidemic,’ she says.

Chill squinted harder at the photo. She had a pretty face. Nice bouncy hair. She was thin, with a decent smile. She wore a strand of pearls around her neck and, in each earlobe, he recognized the small white dot of a pearl earring.

Classy. That was the word, Chill decided. She was a classy lady. She wasn’t like his mama at all, he saw. In fact, she sort of reminded him of a teacher he’d had back in middle school. This teacher had taken an interest in him. Tried to talk to him, get him to study, to choose ‘better companions.’ He liked her. He enjoyed their conversations. But she didn’t know anything about his life.

He had to get that teacher off his back. Had to do it harshly, too, so she’d stay away and leave him alone. So he’d turned to her one day, in the middle of one of their little after-school chats, and he’d said, ‘You got the hots for me, baby, that it? That what you got in mind? You heard I got a nice big dick, right, and you want some?’

He could still remember the shock in her eyes, the hurt, the terrible wounded surprise. She looked as if he’d flung acid in her face. They’d been talking about The Red Badge of Courage. Or at least she’d been talking about it. And suddenly he just couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t handle her ‘interest’ and her ‘concern’ for his ‘potential.’ Couldn’t deal with her belief in him. He knew he’d never live up to it. So he’d fixed things. He’d shown her what was really inside him.

‘I got what you need, bay-beeee,’ he’d continued, cackling, slapping his crotch, rubbing it. ‘Mmm, mmm. Got just what you need right here, hot ’n’ fresh.’

In a quavering voice, she told him to leave. She never talked to him again. Had him transferred out of her class. That was that.

A year later, he started selling pot. He worked for a small-time dealer who then passed him on to another guy, who sent him down to Raythune County, and then the second guy ended up in the river with four bullets in his head, and for a while, Chill drifted. He just drove around. He did some odd jobs: He helped a guy dig a footer for a garage, swept out cages at an animal shelter, took care of the landscaping for an old folks’ home. Once, he stopped in at the public library in Bluefield and asked if they had a copy of The Red Badge of Courage. They did.

Chill opened it, turned a few pages, and then he closed it again and put it down on the big wooden table and walked out.

This woman, this Belfa Elkins, looked a little like that middle school teacher of his. Chill stuffed the tattered piece of paper back in his pocket. He knew why the boss wanted this lady gone. She was making a lot of trouble. Affecting business. Costing the boss money.

He perked up.

Yep.

It was her. He peered out through the windshield, down the long street, and he had to squint, but he was sure of it. She was coming out of her house. Walking fast. Wearing a blue sweater and carrying a black briefcase. Just like the boss had said: She won’t quit. She works seven days a week. You be there tomorrow morning, keep out of sight, you watch her house, she’ll show herself. She’ll go to work, even the day after a shooting like that. Follow her, and if you get the chance—

Chill understood.

If she stopped somewhere along the way, if he caught her away from a crowd, if there was nobody else around, he’d be ready. No guns this time, the boss had told him. Guns are messy. Bullets, the boss always reminded him, are evidence.

So how the hell was he supposed to—?

Be creative, the boss said.

Chill lowered his knees. Leaned forward. He put the tip of his tongue in the space where a tooth was supposed to be. Then two more spaces. Helped calm him down.

He started the car.

Showtime.

8

The morning was milky-gray and cold.

Head turned to peer out the back window, right arm stretched across the top of the passenger seat, Bell backed the Explorer out of her driveway. Once