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I was suddenly very glad that I hadn’t asked Kali about the details. However they’d died, I was sure it was horrific if they were still lingering. From what I’d gathered from their paranormal investigations, spirits that lingered had died brutal, painful deaths before their time. I didn’t know what would happen to me once I died, but it brought up the questions. Would I be earth-bound like Kali and Chance? Or would I move on? Was my cancer considered an unnatural cause of death by The Powers That Be, or would I move on, never to see Kali again?

I blanched at that thought. The mere concept of never seeing Kali again was one I didn’t ever want to consider. Every atom of my being rejected the idea, like she was wherever I was meant to be. It sounded insane, even in my head, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting Kali was fate, and she was my future. Whatever that future looked like.

God, when had I become such a sap? I barely knew the woman, yet here I was, spouting nonsense about fate bringing us together. Dying really did change a person in mysterious ways.

Mikey headed over to Dakota like a man walking to the gallows, and I didn’t blame him one bit. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through, to learn that your spouse, the person you loved enough to tie yourself to for the rest of your life, was a murderous psycho. Not to mention, he had already killed one wife and now his own brother. The complete and utter betrayal she must have felt. I would bet all that I had that her entire lifeno longer made any sense, that she was floundering amid the rubble and chaos her husband had wrought.

And this was only the beginning.

I stood aside and watched as Mikey coaxed her up the stairs. She didn’t react, still shut down, trapped inside her own mind. She was almost completely catatonic, but she did allow him to lead her up the stairs. When I heard the door to the spare bedroom shut, that was when I pulled out my cell phone and dialled 9-1-1.

‘Nine-one-one, what is the address of the emergency?’

‘It’s at my neighbour’s property,’ I started, and then rattled off the address, followed by my name and phone number when they asked next.

‘And what is the emergency?’

‘I have reason to believe my neighbour is a serial killer, that he’s just killed his brother, and that he has another victim in his basement.’

The conversation went on, and I was asked question after question. I provided a rough description of Blake, and of Chance and Kali. I couldn’t give them details about why I thought he was a serial killer, but they seemed to be taking me seriously enough. They assured me an officer was en route to the property to check out my claim, and that another would be dispatched shortly to speak directly with me.

Now, all I had to do was wait and stay on the phone until the officer arrived.

I kept expecting Mikey to rejoin me, but he stayed upstairs with Dakota the whole time. When the doorbell rang, I hoped it didn’t disturb them, but I swore I heard a door upstairs creak open before slowly snicking shut again, and still no sign of the other man.

There was a single officer waiting on my porch, a thumb hooked into his vest and shades perched on his nose, obscuringhis gaze. With his hair artfully styled to look perfectly mussed and the bulge of his muscles evident even beneath the bulky uniform, he was one of the coolest guys I had ever seen. Young and attractive, yet with an air of superiority that could only come from enforcing the law, I kind of wanted to be him.

I could feel his stare even if I couldn't see it, and if his pursed lips were any indication, he was not happy. To be here interviewing me, or for some other reason?

‘Mr Emeric?’ he asked, to which I readily confirmed.

‘Yes, sir. That’s me.’

‘You’re the man who called in about a potential serial killer living next door?’

‘Yes, sir. Blake Dodd.’

He hummed, the sound both thoughtful and wary at the same time. ‘My name is Detective DeLuca. I’m here because I have a few questions for you, Mr Emeric. May I come in?’

I opened the door wider and stepped back to allow him the room to walk past. ‘Sure. Of course.’

I led him through to the living room, where he settled himself on the couch without needing to be asked. I remembered when I’d had the confidence to just make myself at home wherever I went, and I took a moment to miss those days before I refocused back on the present. There was no point in dwelling on what used to be.

‘Would you like something to drink?’ I asked. ‘Water? Coffee?’

‘A glass of water would be great, thank you.’

I hurried to the kitchen to fill him a glass, then rushed back to place it on the coffee table in front of him. Then, I settled myself into my favourite armchair, releasing a breath of relief that my aching bones could have a moment of respite, and waited for him to start the conversation.

He didn’t start right away, instead choosing to slowly sip at the water. He’d kept the shades on, glaring at me through themirrored lenses in the silence. I could see myself in them, and I wondered if it was a tactic he imparted during interviews and interrogations to make the other parties nervous. I could see how it would work, especially when faced with our own guilt through the reflection of ourselves in his sunglasses, but I wasn’t swayed. His methods wouldn’t work on me, especially considering I wasn’t at fault here. I had done nothing wrong, and I had nothing to hide.

So, I simply sat back, made myself comfortable, and waited for him to make the first move. Time was of the essence, but I got the feeling he wouldn’t respect me or my answers if I caved first. He was one ofthosetypes, and it was clear to see he was sceptical about this visit.

Finally, he placed the glass back on the table, but not before he dragged one of the old, largely unused coasters in front of him. The coffee table was old and abused, ring stains littering the surface alongside chips and dents. I wasn’t fussed about adding more, but he seemed to be changing up his tactics into something a little more respectful of the home he was in.

Interesting.

‘So, Mr Emeric. Why don’t you tell me a little about why you believe this… Blake Dodd, was it?’ he asked for clarification, and only continued when I nodded. ‘What makes you believe he’s killing people?’