Page 6

Greyson

If I ever wanted to give up my day job, I’d make a great fucking detective. So far, I’d figured out through old newspaper clippings and an obituary that Evie Dubois lived about a thirty-minute walk from the bar. She died when she was fourteen, but I already knew that from the dates on the crypt. What was truly interesting was that she was survived by her mother, Janette, and her older sister, Alora.

“Alora,” I said, sounding out her name and rolling it around like candy in my mouth. They may have moved, but I was going to start there and see what else I could find.

“Fuck me, man, I thought I was a morning person. You were in that same spot when I went to bed. Did you even sleep,” Lennox asked as he wandered out from the bedroom, running a hand through his messy hair as he yawned.

“I got a couple of hours. The coffee’s brewed, and I ordered a box of biscuits from that place you like. They’re on the counter.” I did keep odd hours and would grab a nap here or there, but I never slept more than three at a stretch. Glancing at the time, I had a few errands to run before I could stalk my prey.

“Did you get gravy?”

“Of course.”

“Forget women. I should just marry you,” Lennox said.

“We’re practically already married, but you couldn’t handle my cock,” I teased, looking over as he poured his coffee.

“Fuck you, that shit is the other way around.”

I turned toward him. “You wanna find out?”

“What? No. What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t answer that. There is a lot fucked up with you.” Lennox grabbed three biscuits and a plate before tossing the container of gravy into the microwave. He sat down beside me, and I casually watched as he poured the gravy all over, some spilling onto the table. Before I turned into Mary Poppins and cleaned up behind Lennox, I needed to leave. He wasn’t a messy guy, but I had a serious case of OCD when it came to keeping things orderly and sanitized.

“That is true, but my friend…you’re not much better,” I said, getting up off the seat to get ready.

“Was it something I said,” Lennox called after me, his mouth full, but I didn’t bother to answer him.

The shower was quick but effective, and by the time I emerged from my room, Lennox had moved over to the couch and was watching the news. It was the only thing he ever watched. Trying to get him to sit through a movie was like pulling teeth from a pissed-off cat. I glanced at the table and noted that he’d cleaned up his mess. Good, now I wouldn’t be tempted to smother him in the night.

“Don’t wait up for me, lover,” I called out as I grabbed my car keys.

“Fuck you.”

Lennox had been like a brother to me my entire life. When his parents died and he moved in with my family, it felt natural to have him around all the time. Some friendships you couldn’t explain, they just worked.

Walking down the stairs, I wandered into the quiet bar and over to the small store with my souvenirs for sale. Sitting my bag down, I pulled out the new piece I’d finished last night and more of the blood crystal necklaces that sold exceptionally well. I stockpiled for Mardi Gras, but they were available all year. As a local, the holiday was annoying as fuck, it had become gimmicky and filled with tourists, but as a business owner, I loved it. We did more sales leading up to the holiday and during than any other time in the year. So much so that I purposely held all my best stuff back for the occasion and tripled the price. I always sold out. Little bits of my victims were now spread throughout the world as blood-filled jewelry, scented candles and soaps made from the flesh and fat, and carved décor from their bones. Nothing ever went to waste. There was a satisfaction that tickled my fucking pickle, knowing some sod was washing their body with body parts or fucking on a couch with a candle burning. I especially loved the idea of someone getting a bone or necklace gift and proudly showing it off. That shit was priceless.

Satisfied with the placement of the new items, I marched out back to my car. The beast was my pride and joy. The midnight-black ‘68 Plymouth Barracuda had belonged to my grandfather. He took impeccable care of it and left it to me in his will. You don’t get any cooler at nineteen than pulling into the school parking lot with this car. She roared like a lion, but damn, could she ever purr like a kitten.

As I pulled out of the parking spot and onto the street, I organized the rest of my night into tasks. I’d put a post online asking which AA meeting had the same chip as the one in the photo. There were two in the area that needed to be checked out, but first, I had to stop at the hardware store for supplies, have dinner with my parents, and then it was off to the Dubois home.

It was later than I planned when I parked down the street from my target, but my parents were getting ready to head out on a cruise for three weeks and wanted to chat about a million things. I loved my parents. They were good people, but I sat and stared at them, wondering how the hell I was a product of those genetics. My mom had been a track star and a cheerleader who inherited the bar from her dad. She’d married my father, an oil rig welder, but when she got pregnant, he quit his job to help her manage the business. They eventually asked their best friends, Lennox’s parents, to join them in the venture. My parents were funny and warm, helped the community, and went to church on Sundays, but they had no idea I was their worst nightmare.

Grabbing my bag off the passenger seat, I pulled my hood up and got out of the car. This area was filled with low-income housing and was quiet at this time of night. Keeping to the darkness, I played hopscotch with the shadows until I could dart silently into the backyard.

The lights were off, but that didn’t mean anything. Every precaution needed to be taken. Peeking into the windows, I didn’t see anyone and moved on to the back door. There didn’t seem to be a security system. I could see no glowing panel, at least, and I pulled out my toolkit to break in.

Most teens went to parties, the movies, or skate parks in their downtime. When I wasn’t playing quarterback, I was practicing breaking into homes. I’d watched more unsuspecting people sleep than probably anyone else. It had become a personal challenge to see if I could break into a house a day for a month and not get caught. I’d only managed to make the goal once. It was harder than you’d think, and now it was insanely difficult with all the extra technology of door cameras, nanny cams, and all the other gadgets.

The lock gave easily, and within seconds, the deadbolt clicked to the side. There was something erotic about being in someone’s home when no one knew you were there. It made my blood sing. Not bothering with the lower level, I tested each step for squeaking as I walked up to the second floor. Soft snoring came from the right, and I wandered toward the noise, gently pushing open the door. It swung inward, revealing two people in bed. My hand tightened into a fist. If that was my doll with another man, then I would be spilling a lot of blood tonight.

Walking around the bed, I kept my eyes on the faces. My body relaxed when I realized the sleeping woman was her mother, Janette. I had no clue who the man was, but he didn’t matter. Stepping up to the side of the bed, I knelt and stared at the woman who gave birth to my doll. Her breathing was even and relaxed.

I’d never killed during a home invasion before. Luring people to their unsuspecting deaths or drugging them to take them to my playroom was my thing. She mumbled and moved just enough that her hair slid away from her neck like an invitation. A bead of sweat broke out on my brow as I stood and forced myself to leave her be and not kill her. These two were not why I was here. That kind of risk was the old me.

Walking out, I made sure that door was back to exactly where I found it before heading out to find more information about my doll. The house was small, so I didn’t need to go far to find the first bedroom, but it was filled with crafting supplies. A desk was set up with a wide assortment of beads, clasps, and other items. The next door opened to a bathroom, so that left door number three.

The handle was a little stiff as if it hadn’t been opened for a while. Stepping inside, I was transported back in time. Posters of groups that were popular ten years ago were hung on the god-awful turquoise wall. The bed was empty, and it felt like no one had been in there for years. The picture stuck on the edge of the mirror over the dresser caught my attention. The edges were curled, and the image was partially faded, but my heart thumped a little harder at the sight of my doll. She was much younger. I would say sixteen, and her arm was wrapped around the shoulder of her sister. They looked happy, without a care in the world.

Opening a couple of drawers, it was easy to figure out that this was the younger Dubois girl’s room. In fact, this room was a sealed time capsule. Nothing had been moved or changed since the day she died. Even the glass on the nightstand was still sitting there. The water had evaporated long ago, but there was not a speck of dust to be found. It was all very strange. It wouldn’t have surprised me to see the girl stuffed and sitting in a corner. And people thought what I did was fucked up. I shook my head.

If Alora didn’t live here, then where did she live? I found a small stack of photos of Alora and stuffed them in my coat pocket before heading out and closing the door. She could’ve moved all her items out, but while I was here, it was worth looking everywhere. I opened the door to the single-car garage and pulled out my small flashlight, shining it around the messy space.

I didn’t see anything at first, but then I spotted a couple of boxes stuffed in a corner under a tarp. A black marker had been used to scribble Alora’s name on the top, and I quickly opened the box to peer inside. This was a risk, but since everything had been dumped in haphazardly, I picked up the box. The garage door was jammed, preventing a clean exit, so I headed back into the house. I went out the back door and ran down the sidewalk. Unlocking my trunk, I put the box inside before going back. All was still silent as I entered the garage for the second box. Grabbing a few random items that looked like they hadn’t been moved for years, I filled the empty space under the tarp where her boxes were. Holding my prize under my arm, I walked into the house, freezing at the sound of a voice.

“I’m telling you. No one is in the house. Crazy bitch,” he grumbled. “I’m getting something to drink. Do you want anything?” His feet were heavy on the stairs.

Shit .

“No, just make sure no one is here. I dreamed that someone was staring at me,” Janette answered.

“No one wants to stare at you. I barely want to stare at you,” he said under his breath. Such a charmer.

The backdoor was through the kitchen, so I slipped into the dining room out of sight against the wall. My knife pressed into my back, reminding me that it was there. The man belched as he turned on the water, and a moment later, the light from the two-piece bathroom flicked on, and I heard him pissing. I peeked around the corner and could probably make it through the kitchen, but it was best to wait for him to go back upstairs.

“Dave, did you make sure no one is in the front yard and that the doors are locked?” Janette was persistent. I’d give her that.

“Jesus fuck, all the time. Like anyone would want to break in here,” Dave said as the toilet flushed. He continued to mumble as his voice got closer. That dirty bastard didn’t wash his hands. He should be killed for that alone. Sliding along the wall, I inched into the darkest corner. Dave walked into the dining room and right past me. He grabbed the drape and pulled it open enough that he could look outside.

“There’s no one out there,” he yelled, sipping his water. “I need to take a dump. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

There was no way he needed to have a shit with the way he was stroking the front of his boxers. I moved slowly and silently set the box down before pulling my knife free of its sheath.

“Okay, but before you come up, check all the doors again. Then hurry up and get back to bed. I’m cold,” Janette yelled from upstairs. Dave finished off the glass of water and set it down rather than taking it back to the kitchen. That was a second mark against Dave and his lack of cleanliness.

I rolled my eyes as he pulled his boxers down and gave me a view of his ghostly white ass. Un-fucking-believable. The glow of Dave’s phone lit up the room around him, and a moment later, the soft sound of moaning reached me.

Yeah, Daddy. Just like that, Daddy. Fuck me harder. Yeah, yeah, just like that, Daddy.

Mark three, he had terrible taste in porn. If I had to stand here and watch this asshole jerk off, I was going to slit my own throat.

“Get up and go downstairs. No, come back to bed. Go outside and take the garbage out. Wakes me up and won’t even fuck me,” he said. Dave turned, still looking down at his porn with his cock in his hand.

Dave would’ve been fine if he’d just turned right and walked into the living room, but his critical error was not closing the drapes and looking up from his porn. Adrenaline flooded my body as Dave paused and locked eyes on me. He tilted his head and squinted like he couldn’t make out the hooded shape. I couldn’t believe that he was not only standing there with his cock still out, but it was taking him this long to recognize the danger. Cull the weakest.

Flipping the knife over in my hand, I stepped out of the dark corner. As he opened his mouth to yell, I whipped the blade at Dave, and he stumbled back. It found its mark right through his eye, an almost impossible shot for most people, but I wasn’t most people. I practiced until I was the best.

Darting out of my hiding spot, I grabbed the front of his T-shirt and eased him to the floor. His one good eye stared at me in confusion as his brain tried to catch up to the fact that it had been stabbed. The phone with the porn playing was still tightly clutched in his left hand while his right gripped his cock like a weapon.

“You’d need more than that to use against me.”

I smirked as I yanked out the blade, and blood dripped onto the floor. The grotesque wound brought out a genuine smile. With a quick slash, I cut his carotid and wiped the blade off on his shirt before sliding it home. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish in a tank, his voice frozen in his rapidly filling throat. As the blood started to spread into a puddle around his body, I stepped back to keep my boots out of it.

“Dave? Can you hurry up?”

“I agree, she is annoying. Trust me, you’re better off,” I said.

Before Janette decided to investigate, I stood and ran to my box, picked it up, and left through the back door, resetting the lock to add confusion. Once in the car, I checked myself over to make sure I didn’t have any of his blood on me, but I’d managed to stay clean. Removing my leather gloves, I tossed them on the seat.

Fuck. Killing Dave hadn’t been part of the plan, but this was all Janette’s fault. Stupid bitch just needed to keep her mouth shut, and all would’ve been fine. Now, she could live with the consequences.

Starting the car, I turned toward home. An excited thrill raced through my body. I had two boxes of treasure to sort through, catalog, and learn all about Alora.

“Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll find you.”