Read Online Necessary Evil by Killarney Traynor - Free Book Online

so many times. I called out to her as I untied them, but
there was no answer. I went into the kitchen and flipped on the lights.
    It was neat, with only a few dishes in the
sink, and nothing prepared on the counter. I was famished, so I quickly washed
my hands in the sink and pulled open the fridge. It was a discouraging sight:
sparsely populated with eggs, a quart of milk, and a few limp vegetables. There
weren’t even any left-overs.
    I sighed and slammed it shut, then went
over to the bread box. Two stale crusts of wheat bread lay dejectedly on their
sides. I’d meant to go to the grocery store, but the workload had put the need
out of my mind. I wondered why Aunt Susanna hadn’t gone, but realized that this
was my week to do the shopping. So this was my fault.
    I let the cover to the bread box fall shut
and rubbed my eyes as my stomach growled. With a grunt, I pulled the cover open
again and shoved one of the pieces of bread in my mouth. It was like eating
sawdust.
    Hopefully, Aunt Susanna had some ideas for
dinner, because I was fresh out.
    “Aunt Susanna!” I called again, through my
mouthful.
    Odd. She was usually in the kitchen at
this time of night, preparing something, even if it wasn’t her turn to cook.
    I went to the hall and called again, but
as I did so, the wall calendar caught my attention. Today’s date was circled in
red, with the words, Class, 7pm, written in my aunt’s hand.
    She wasn’t even here. I was on my own for
dinner.
    I might have sworn aloud then. I probably
did. I don’t swear under normal circumstances, but I was tired and the incident
with Mrs. Fontaine was still fresh on my mind. I had been hoping to discuss it
with Aunt Susanna, but now it would have to wait until she returned and I was
not happy about that.
    I turned to go back into the kitchen to
see if there were any frozen dinners left in the fridge, when something else
caught my eye. The light to the living room was on.
    Since becoming the one responsible for them,
I was somewhat obsessive about the electric bills. If a room wasn’t in active
use, I insisted that the lights be turned off. My aunt had objected a little,
saying that it made the house seem even emptier than it was, but even she had
to concede that it was better to be in a dark house than have none at all. She
was usually pretty good about turning things off, but if she was in hurry, like
she’d probably been tonight in trying to get to class on time, she’d forget.
    I sighed again. It seemed, in my childish
piquancy, that everything was conspiring against me. I lumbered down the hall,
taking another bite of the bread that remained in my hand.
    The light switch is far enough in the room
that you have to step into it in order to reach it, which I did. I was so
focused on the bread that I didn’t see anything else as I flipped the light
switch.
    “Hey!”
    The protest erupted from somewhere in the
darkness in front of me. It was a male voice, one I didn’t recognize in a room
that was supposed to be empty. I choked, but my hand was still on the switch
and I had the presence of mind to flip it again as I coughed.
    The warm yellow light infused the old
living room with its battered furniture and out-of-style wallpaper with an
almost neighborly sense of welcome. It was more welcoming, I’m sure, than the startled look I was giving the person at the couch.
    A man sprang up from it, one hand still
grasping the book he’d been reading, while the other was pulling off his large
glasses. He was dressed in a well-fitting, but somewhat worn brown jacket over
pressed pants that looked as though they were of good quality. A briefcase,
also well-used, was on the floor by his leather-clad feet, and his hair, dark
and thick, was neatly brushed and groomed.
    “I beg your pardon,” he said, haughtily.
“I was reading in here. Next time you might want to look in a room before you
turn the lights off.”
    He spoke in a clipped tone, clearly
annunciating every word, like a