Page 25 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats (Till Death Do Us Part #1)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Atticus

We park a few blocks away and walk to the crime scene.

Though I told Lilah to stay in the car, she wouldn’t have it. Instead of fighting with her, too eager to see what’s going on inside, I allowed her to come with me.

Since the reporter was here just a short time ago, and the house was vacant, I can only assume it still is.

According to my online searches, this particular murder occurred two days ago, with them finding the body late last night.

It takes time to get a clean-up crew into a crime scene.

It’s fucked up that the families are left to clean up after their loved ones are murdered, but it’s also not surprising considering the country we live in. Everything costs something.

We sneak around the side of the house to go in through the back.

There are no sensor lights that go off, and we move carefully so we don’t trip on anything.

You never know what people leave out in their yards.

Everything inside the house is dark. I’d looked at the layout of it before we got here to make sure we’d safely be able to get in through the back, and so I had an image of what we were walking into.

I’m not sure how I will know if this is Violet or not, but something tells me I’ll just know.

Picking the lock is easy. The room we enter looks like a sun room of sorts. There are boxes lined against one wall, while a few large potted plants are against the tall windows. We walk up a couple steps, and the door we reach is locked too, so I pick it and let us into the house.

The scent of blood and body rot hits my nose the moment we’re inside.

I close the door behind us, the quiet falling over us like a blanket.

The city is loud and shutting it out isn’t always possible.

But this is a calm area, further away from the city.

Similar to my own house, where you hear close to none of the city noise.

A short hallway leads us to a kitchen on the left and a study on the right. Further down the hall is a small living room. I round the banister and go upstairs, following the scent of blood that gets stronger the higher up I go.

When I reach the landing, I stop, the bathroom ahead of me.

My heart pounds a little harder, all my senses on high alert.

Even in the dark I can make out the blood splattered all over.

I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but something here is going to tell me this is Violet.

It has to. I need some sort of sign that she was here, that she is okay. That I didn’t fail her completely.

My heart skips a beat when Lilah’s hand comes around my forearm. She’s behaving so well I forgot she was here.

I walk forward, something drawing me to the bathroom.

It’s not just the blood that’s telling me this is where the kill happened. It’s something else. Something lingering, like an echo. I’ve heard people talk about them, but I always thought it was bullshit. Now I’m not so sure because I swear I can feel it vibrating through the air.

The bathroom is cramped. I stop a foot into it.

Glancing to the left, I find the light switch and flip it on.

Probably a bad idea, considering this house should be empty and it’s dark, meaning anyone outside can see someone is in here.

But maybe they’ll think the light was left on accidentally.

I have no fucking idea if cops patrol areas like this.

I doubt it. What the fuck do they care if people get into crime scenes?

They’ve done all they need. I don’t plan on being here long anyway, I just need to see…

The moment the room illuminates, I suck in a sharp breath. Relief and anger hit me all at once.

This is her.

I’m sure of it.

I take a deep breath, stepping further into the bathroom until I’m standing in front of the large mirror on the wall, above the countertop and sink. From the corner of my eye, I see Lilah watching me from the doorway.

My gaze travels around the mirror, taking in every single crack.

One. Two. Three.

Violet punched the mirror three times. The center of the crack is the size of a female’s fist. What did she cover her hand with to not get any blood on the mirror?

It’s the least of my concern, because she did use something or I would see blood here.

There is red on the mirror, but there’s no mistaking it for blood.

From a mile away you could tell it’s lipstick.

The same shade he used to make her wear, I’d assume.

She never disclosed the color to me, but it makes sense. When she finally opened up to me and told me all the heinous and vile things Thomas was doing to her, she told me about the lipstick and how he would make her wear it because he liked seeing it smeared on his skin after.

I should have killed him then, but I was a scared kid who didn’t know a thing in the world. And not that my first kills were perfect, but I got lucky. I wouldn’t have gotten lucky then. Not any luckier than I already did.

If Violet hadn't started that fire, we’d both be in jail right now.

The number 72 is written all over the mirror in the red lipstick. It starts out calm on one side of the mirror but gets more frantic and messy as it goes.

Seventy-two. That’s the number of times he raped her before she killed him. This I know for a fact, because she made sure to stab him the same number of times. I’d walked in on number fifty-one. She looked up at me and smiled.

“Twenty-one to go,” she’d said, then went right back at it like she was coloring a picture and not gutting a full-grown man.

My stomach turns as I look around the room. It’s a bloodbath. A fucking mess. She’s getting frenzied. If I had to guess, I’d say there will be another kill tonight, maybe tomorrow. They’re getting closer together. All of this means she’s likely to get caught.

I have to find her before that happens.

“Atty?” Lilah says softly. I turn to face her, unsure of the emotions coursing through me. “Are you okay?”

Am I okay? Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?

“This was her.”

“You’re sure?”

I nod, looking back at the mirror.

“What does it mean?” Lilah asks.

I smirk, unable to hide the pride I feel over what Lilah is doing.

“Retribution.”