hint?
Before I can respond, the walkie-talkie chirps on my desk with a static sound. I look over at it in complete shock before panning my focus to the bedroom window.
“They’re in Janice’s room.”
I rush through the open bedroom door to the stairs. I stop abruptly and gaze down the steps, making sure the coast is clear before I go blazing down them.
“Samson?” I call out again. When there’s still no response, I mutter, “Shit.” With the knife in hand and at the ready, I cautiously take one step at a time until I reach the bottom.
Pressing my back against the wall leading into the kitchen, I take in a deep breath. I look down and panic when I see a small trickle of red liquid on the floor just outside the kitchen.
“Is that blood?” I whisper to myself.
Cautiously scooting around the corner, I come face to face with a scene right out of a horror film. Red fills my vision as a scream rips from my vocal chords.
Blood is smeared across the floor leading up to the kitchen table. The bodies of Samson and Jackson sit in the two chairs at the table. The sick bastard actually posed them as if they were sitting there having a conversation over a cup of coffee or something. Blood drips from the wounds around their necks, pooling at their feet.
I cover my mouth to stifle my cries. I avert my eyes when it becomes too much for me to take. When the phone vibrates in my hand, I want to chuck it across the room.
Looks like Samson won’t be a pain in your ass anymore. Sorry, I may have gotten a little carried away.
Rage consumes me the moment I finish reading the text. I’ve never been as angry or scared as I am at this moment.
Testing my will, I force my gaze back over to Samson and Jackson. Through all the carnage, my attention focuses on the gun resting in the holster on Samson’s hip. I glance at the knife in my hand and drop it to the floor when I look back at the gun.
I move to Samson’s side, trying to avoid stepping in the trail of blood leading to his body. I can’t look him in the face. The deep guilt I feel would only get worse. Unlatching his holster, I remove the gun. Its cold steel feels heavy in my hand. I’ve held several guns before, and my dad has taught me how to fire one, but this time feels much different. I’m actually intending to use this one for protection, and that feeling scares me to death.
As I walk away, I whisper, “Sorry” to the two men who lost their lives for no reason.
Sliding back the top of the gun’s barrel, I hear it snap back, loading a bullet from the magazine into the chamber. I notice the safety is on, and proceed to flip it off before tucking the gun into the back of my jeans. I pull my shirt down to cover it.
There’s been a lot of senseless killing lately, and someone needs to put a stop to it. I’m tired of being the helpless victim in this scenario. This ends tonight.
Chapter Thirty Four
I kick off my slippers and put on the pair of red Chucks resting next to the front door. After hearing a few trick-or-treaters outside ransacking the bowl of candy, I decide to wait until they leave before I go out. When the coast is clear, I open the door and step onto the front porch. I slowly maneuver down the gravel path in front of our house, my eyes never leaving Janice’s window.
I draw out my cell and dial Parker’s hospital room, which I saved in my contacts earlier. I want to hear his voice one more time and tell him how I feel, just in case this is the last chance I get. My heart squeezes when I hear his strained hello.
“Parker? It’s Dani.”
“Hey, how are you?” he asks, and I wish I was able to continue with the small talk instead of saying what I have to tell him.
“Unknown has Phoebe tied up in Janice’s house, and I’m going to get her.”
“What? No! Dani, don’t do anything stupid, please.” The desperation in his voice tears at my heart.
“I have to, Parker.” When he tries to argue again, I simply say, “I love you,” and hang up.
I try my dad’s phone again, but it still rolls to voicemail. Disconnecting, I stuff the