We Are All the Same in the Dark

by Julia Heaberlin

“If you know who Trumanell’s killer is, why haven’t you turned him in?” It’s almost a whisper. “Why did you wait? Is the killer already dead?” “Trumanell wants me to leave it alone.” “Please tell me who it is,” I beg. “Please, Wyatt. Please tell Rusty.” I hear him breathing. Now I don’t. “Don’t hang up, please, please don’t hang up!” I’m shouting into the phone. “I think Rusty and his partner are coming for you. I don’t know what they will do to get answers this time. Wyatt. Please. If you won’t talk, just get in your truck and go.” My desperation even surprises me. Nothing. “Wyatt, are you still there? I don’t care about Trumanell, Odette would want you to leave.” I pause. My phone is pressed so tightly to my ear that I can hear my heartbeat. “Please say something.” There’s a sound cut short on the other end, either the deepest of sobs or a harsh little laugh. In that brief second, I realize that knowing which could make all the difference. And then he’s gone, reminding me that I’m not that good at saving people.

Holy fucking tease and stupidity, dude. He knows the original killer and unless it's Odette, there's no reason not to say who except for mystery and intrigue and to give himself a trigger to flip out over for the rest of his stupid ass life. And why does she even care to save this dumb fuck?