Page 8 of Shattered

“Colin?” I called out.

No response.

I stood slowly, quietly pulling on a loose shirt. Maybe it was Colin messing with me again. Or he had brought back a woman from Ivy Ledge and hadn’t heard me. I crept down the hallway, past the bathroom, and peered into his bedroom.

A lifeless heap laid on the floor, like another pile of laundry. Colin’s blank eyes stared back from the middle of it.

A tall, looming figure, unmistakably male, stood above him, stretching in height. A black jacket, black cargo pants, with matching buckled boots. A brown leather mask encapsulated his entire face, with a metal grate placed where his mouth should be, and cloudy bulbous disks covering his eyes, making it impossible to see him, knowing full well that he could see me. A white cord dangled from his black-gloved fingers.

What had he done with that cord?

He had strangled Colin. It was him.The killer.

He moved forward, and I stepped back, blinking my eyes.

“Don’t move,” his mechanical voice said.