Blood Red

Chapter 11

Boyd looked down at the body and then he looked back at his partner and the two homicide detectives, Nancy Whalen and Bob Longwood.

“I want this between us for now, okay? I don’t want anyone talking about this case to anyone on the force.”

“You know we could take this case from you, right?” Bob looked over his way, the cigar Boyd had given him sticking from the side of his mouth. Bob Longwood was not a good-looking man, but he was definitely an intimidating one. He was too heavy and too damned tall not to be intimidating.

Nancy shook her head. “Shut the fuck up, Bob.” Nancy was a short woman with big hair. He’d seen her wear it down once and it ran almost to her knees. When she was off duty, there was probably no one he’d ever met who was sweeter, but when she was working, she could out-swear a sailor and out-glare the sun. One hundred percent lean, mean law machine. There had been a few occasions when they’d almost gone at it like bunnies, and both of them still wanted to, but they had enough common sense not to mix work and pleasure that way. Besides, her husband liked to bench-press Mack trucks to stay in shape and Boyd wasn’t really sure he was willing to get himself torn into itsy bitsy pieces and buried alive just yet.

“What? I didn’t say we would take the case from them, I’m just saying we could.” Boyd didn’t take any offense and neither did Danny. Bob was teasing and they all knew it. It wasn’t like he didn’t have enough cases on his plate, and a couple of years back, Boyd had been partnered with him. That was back when the department had tried to actually have separate detectives for Vice. They gave up on that in a hurry. The department was well-off, but not filthy stinking rich. They were cops, after all, and it was much more important to have the extra money they could have used for detectives doing something important, like planting flowers on all the curbs in the springtime. Not that Boyd was bitter about it or anything. Much.

Boyd lit his own cigar, standing a long way off from the body when he did it. No one had touched the body since it had been found the night before by a couple of high school kids who wanted to get frisky. They were good kids; they were smart enough not to touch anything. He could see the spot where they’d had their blanket laid out a good thirty yards away from the actual crime scene.

Veronica Miller was not looking her prettiest. A couple of days in the woods will do that to a corpse. The crows had been picking at her face and chest; they’d removed her eyes and most of her nose. Not even Danny could look at what remained and think anything sexual. That was saying something, as Danny could probably look at his own grandmother and wonder if she was a good lay. No, that wasn’t really fair. Someone else’s grandmother, maybe, but he wasn’t a complete pig.

“Hey, Danny Boy!”

“Yeah, Richie?”

“You ever wonder if your grandmother was good in the sack?”

“Of course. I asked my grandfather about it.”

“Yeah? What did he say?”

“He said your grandmother was better.”

“Fuck you.”

“Are you two ever serious?” Nancy was being all professional again. Well, mostly, she had a little laugh when she asked.

He looked her way and smiled past the plume of smoke from his stogie. Damn, she was a good-looking woman.

“Of course, hon. I’m serious about this case. Veronica Miller needs to be our little secret.”

“Why, Rich?”

“’Cause we think maybe a cop did this.”

“No shit?” Bob looked over at the corpse again and got a little pastier. Boyd wondered exactly which bright boy at the top had chosen to make him a homicide detective. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do the job, because he could. It was that he hated the sight of blood. Okay, so most of the blood here was dried up and flaking, but still.

“Want to tell us which one?”

“Well, neither of you.”

Nancy nodded her head. “So let’s get the equipment and get this done.”

“We owe you, guys. Dinner’s on us tonight.”

Nancy looked at him long and hard, and he knew she was thinking the same thing that he was: no drinking tonight or things could get dangerous and her husband could find reasons to twist Boyd into a pretzel.

“By the book, guys. I want to make sure we find everything, okay? If we have a crooked cop, I want him going down hard.”

“You looking for a good fuck, Rich?” That was Nancy, and hearing her talk like that made him swear off drinking a second time.

“Only every day of his life, Nancy.”

“Shut the fuck up, Danny.”

They got to work. They were very meticulous and found the condom Brian Freemont had dropped when he was murdering Veronica Miller.

Brian woke up in a decent mood. He had the day off again, and planned on using it to just relax. That was the problem here. He needed to relax in a big way.

If he didn’t calm his ass down and soon, he was going to screw up.

His mood darkened when he realized Angie wasn’t there. For a minute he’d let himself forget that she was gone.

He missed her, even missed her being a bloated, irritable, screaming bitch.

Mostly though, he missed seeing her face in the morning.

Damnedest thing about it was he was a little surprised by how much he missed her.

“Get over it. She’s gone. Move on with your life.”

The problem was that as much as he loved her, he knew that he couldn’t stop chasing the college girls. It was heady stuff when they were begging him and thinking of ways to get out of their troubles. Even thinking about it was getting him in the mood to go out and do it again.

But he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t working. That was a problem.

On the other hand, there was always the campus.

What the hell are you, crazy? You can’t just go to the campus and grab some piece off the sidewalk. He stopped and thought about that for a minute. Maybe he could. He’d never really considered using the files he had—or that the students there thought he had on them—for a second tumble before, but the more he thought about it, the better he liked the idea.

He just had to be smart about it and look for the ones who were looking properly scared when they saw him again. And he had to mark any of them that looked smug when they saw him, because, really, he wanted to find the bastard that had screwed up his good thing. He wanted to find him in a bad way.

Maybe he’d get lucky. Maybe he could find one of the smug little bitches and make her forget about being cocky, and in the process maybe he could get a name to go with the voice he’d had in his nightmares for the last week.

Brian showered and got dressed. He took his gloves with him. You never knew what the day would bring.

He didn’t know the half of it.

Michelle was on a rampage. She was quiet about it, but she was pretty close to the homicidal stage. Kelli had the good sense to stay out of her way.

Bill hadn’t come home last night.

Michelle was thinking the worst, and so was Kelli, though they had drawn different conclusions. His wife was muttering now and then, mentioning half a dozen different names belonging to different women. She could figure out the context from the previous night.

Kelli was worried for different reasons. It wasn’t like Bill not to come home. She knew that. She knew he wouldn’t really sleep around on his wife, either. It wasn’t the way he was designed.

So now two of the guys she cared for were missing. She didn’t have time to think about it. She had to get to school. Mercenary? Yes, but if she stayed here and thought about it, she was going to get herself doubled over and turn into an ulcerating knot.

Kelli grabbed her things and started out the front door. She only made it a third of the way to her car before she saw Bill’s shoe. It was sticking up like a finger aiming at the sky and she walked over toward it, frowning in concentration.

It was the same loafer that had adorned his left foot last night. There looked to be a spill of drying stain across the top and she looked again, carefully, and saw that it was blood.

Kelli walked as calmly as she could back to the house and dialed for the police.

The detectives showed up twenty minutes later, looking exhausted and fed up. Not fed up with her, but with the way their day was going.

By the time they arrived, she’d calmed Michelle down to a dull simmer. Now that there was a chance her husband wasn’t fooling around, she was back to her normal self, only stressed out.

“I’m Detective Boyd. This is Detective Holdstedter.” The short one spoke, his face placed as carefully to neutral as he could manage. The tall one, the Ken doll in the expensive suit, looked at each of the women with a fast eye. She looked back. He was cute.

“Hi, thanks for coming.” She was trying to sound professional, because Michelle wasn’t in any frame of mind for that. “Do you want me to show you where I found the shoe?”

“Yeah, if you could, ma’am.” Boyd followed her, his eyes looking at the ground. He pointed to something and shot a look at his partner. Ken stopped moving and looked where he’d gestured. She resisted the temptation to look over where Ken went and walked on to where she saw the shoe.

Boyd stood next to her and stared for a moment, then he cast his eyes all over the place, like a man watching a tennis match played by octopi. His facial expression was nearly blank of emotion, unchanging, but she stared at him anyway as he looked over the trees, the grass, and the bushes, focused intently on seeing everything there was to be seen.

“Get the kit, Danny. We have a few things to pick up.”

“I’m on it,” and as he said the words, Holdstedter stood from where he had been crouching, a glove now on his hand and something small pressed between two fingers.

“What did he find?” She hadn’t meant to speak, but the words fired out anyway.

“Looked like a button,” the detective shrugged and took enough time to look into her face. She had no doubt at all that he was reading every little sin she’d ever thought of committing. He had eyes like that. “Might be nothing, might be a clue.” He smiled and she felt more at ease.

“Do you think he was abducted?”

“Honestly? Yes, I do. I think Mr. Lister was taken by force. But I don’t know that yet, so don’t go panicking.”

“Do you want me to stay here for a while?”

“Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“I have school.”

He looked at her again and nodded. “So why don’t you head off to school then, miss. I’ll give you my card and you can call me when you have a little free time.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Oh, yeah. You go do what you have to do. I’ll be here for a couple of hours at least.”

She nodded and took the card he offered. She nodded to the Ken doll, too. He smiled for her and suddenly had a lot more personality than she had been giving him credit for. He graduated up from cute to handsome.

It was time for class and definitely not time to think about good-looking cops, so she went on her way. She went reluctantly; she’d wanted to stay and learn more about what might have happened to Bill.

Ben wasn’t really expecting any policemen at his door. The detectives introduced themselves and looked at him with expressionless faces; they asked if he could answer a few questions. He nodded and stepped out of his apartment.

“What can I do for you, Detective Boyd?”

“It’s just a few routine questions, sir. We have a missing person’s report filed on a fellow student at your school… Danielle Hopkins.”

“Danni’s missing?” He hadn’t really given much thought to her not being in class. Danni wasn’t exactly known for her perfect attendance. “I saw her just the other night. When was that… I think it was Thursday.”

“You look worried. Was she having troubles with someone?”

Looked worried? He was terrified. How was he supposed to help her without getting himself into deep trouble?

“She… was having troubles with a man. I helped her get them resolved, I thought.” Shit. Damn, damn, damn. This wasn’t at all what he wanted to talk about.

“Anyone you care to tell us about?” Detective Boyd was looking at him and looking hard. The big guy next to him was looking, too. Neither of them was making it easy to read what they might be thinking, and he decided that if he ever took up poker, it wouldn’t be a game he played with either of the policemen.

“Okay, here’s the thing. If I talk to you, you’re gonna get really, really pissed off with me, and then you’re going to take me to jail or worse. I’m in a dilemma here, gentlemen. I do not want to go to jail.”

“Did you commit a crime?” That was the tall one, Holdstedter. That was good, because for a minute he was beginning to think the poor guy couldn’t talk.

“Sort of. Yes, but it’s something I already fixed, so, I’m not sure.”

“Okay. Was anyone hurt during the commitment of this crime?”

“More temporarily inconvenienced and probably really, really pissed off at me.”

“So it was a joke?”

“Absolutely not.”

The two detectives looked at each other and had a completely silent conversation that involved nothing but facial expressions. “Okay, Mr. Kirby. Let’s try this again. I’m going to ask you questions and I will want answers.” Boyd held up a hand before he could protest. “If in the course of this discussion you should happen to mention a non-violent crime that does not involve dealing drugs to children or peddling little girls on the sex market, I am willing to overlook it for the present time.”

“Are you completely serious?”

“Deadly serious. I want to find Danielle Hopkins. Anything else you talk about is going to slide as long as it helps me in that process.”

He thought about that for a minute and finally nodded.

“Okay. So what if I tell you the guy I was… helping Danielle deal with was a cop?”

“That would depend on what the cop did, and what you did.”

“Well, okay. So here’s the thing: I was blackmailing the cop to leave Danni alone.”

“What was he doing to Danni?”

“Forced sexual encounters to avoid possible jail time.”

“Talk to me. Tell me everything.” The two detectives didn’t look neutral anymore, they looked like they wanted to find a blackmailing cop and have a sit-down chat with him.

“You don’t push on me or Danni?”

“Same conditions as before: no drugs, kids, or murder, and we have a deal.”

“None of that stuff. I was blackmailing a police officer named Brian Freemont.”

What he expected was either a nice, calm questioning session or to find himself in jail in around five minutes. What he got was two very menacing detectives who were suddenly smiling and looking at him as if he were a long-lost cousin they’d been dying to meet.

“Brian Freemont? Really?”

“Ummm… I’m a little scared to answer this, but yes.”

“Come on, boy, let’s take you out to lunch.” The detective looked at his watch. “This could take a while.”

Ben had a feeling his day was about to get very interesting.

He wasn’t wrong.

Ben was just starting to realize he wasn’t likely to go to jail when he saw Tom Pardue coming around the corner; Tom took one look at him and the men with him and his normal shit-eating grin dropped like a soufflé at a rap concert.

Well, the day had started crappy, but it was getting better and better by the second. Who should walk right into the very place he was leaving than good old Tommy Pardue? Boyd felt a smile grow across his face when the punk saw him. First the treasure-trove kid who was about to make his life easier, and now a chew toy as a bonus.

Pardue did an about-face and got half a step before Boyd was bellowing loud enough to have the kid next to him let out a little gasp. “FREEEEZE!”

The baboon stopped where he was. He was well trained like that.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit. You’re always doing something.” He walked over and moved around until he was in front of the slimebag. Tom Pardue had a nice, long record, but he was normally smart enough to avoid getting busted. Boyd made it a point to stop him every single time he saw him, because he kept hoping he’d get lucky.

Pardue was looking scared enough to rabbit, smart enough to stay exactly where he was, and angry enough to throw a tantrum.

“I’m just here to see a friend.” His voice was shaking; either he was up to something, or he was carrying something.

“Yeah? Who you coming to see?” Boyd did his best to sound bored. He was very good at sounding that way. It was a gift.

“A girl I know.”

“One of your hookers?”

Pardue started looking nervous. “Um. No, just a girl I date.”

Boyd saw it from the corner of his eye, the way Ben Kirby jumped as if slapped. He checked the reaction again when he continued. “You don’t date girls, Tommy. You just do quality checks on your own stable; who do you think you’re kidding?”

Yep. Ben got a look of absolute shock on his face. He didn’t even try to hide it.

“Get up against the wall, boyo, now.” He complied, but to make sure he got it right the first time, Boyd had Danny help him. Danny was only as gentle as he was obligated to be by law.

When he was done, Danny got that little sad look he always got when a beautiful girl was married, or when he didn’t get to have fun with a perp. “He’s clean.”

Boyd snorted. “He ain’t clean, just smarter than he looks.”

“Hey, I’m right here.”

“Don’t I know it. Now don’t you think you should be somewhere else? Before I forget you’re a nice, upstanding citizen and find something to arrest your sorry ass for?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“And Tommy? If I find you around here again, I’ll think of something inventive.” He looked at Pardue as hard as he could. He hated the little shit. He’d hated Pardue back when he was on vice and knew he was beating the crap out of the college girls working for him. Boyd just never could find a way to get any of them to talk. The notion that the little fucker was slippery enough to escape him still stuck in the back of his throat.

“That sounds like harassment.” See? That was what he was talking about. There he was getting all smug again, because there was no evidence.

“No, Tommy. That isn’t harassment. That’s a promise.” He moved in closer until their faces were two inches apart, his eyes felt like they would pop out of his head he was staring so hard. “Harassment doesn’t happen to little fucks like you. I happen. Try me.”

Pardue nodded his head, all semblance of uppity asshole removed for the moment. Then he wised up and got the hell out of the way.

But as he was standing to the side, he looked back at Ben with a murderous glare.

“You got a problem with my suspect, loser?” Whatever the problem was between Pardue and Kirby, he figured the least he could do was make it a little easier on the kid. Christ, the kid was definitely returning the favor over lunch.

“What?” Pardue looked at him suddenly all innocent again.

“I said do you have a problem with my suspect?”

“No. I don’t even know him.”

“Good. Now get the hell out of here.” This time he waited until the walking ape ass was gone before he moved on with Ben and Danny.

“Friend of yours?”

Ben looked distracted. Boyd was pretty sure he could guess why.

“No. I’ve only met him twice.”

“Knows somebody that you know?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell your friend to watch herself. Do that, okay?” If his voice was softer than usual, he didn’t notice.

“I will. I definitely will.” The open book of Ben Kirby’s facial expressions closed down hard and fast.

As long as he was still willing to talk about Freemont, it was all right in Boyd’s book. Still, if he’d screwed up something in the kid’s life, he’d probably feel sorry about it later.

Maggie sat in class and did her work. Ben wasn’t there, and that bothered her a bit, but she tried not to let it drag her down. When her work was done and it was time to be on the way, she packed up her notes and grabbed her belongings.

Today was payday.

Big payday. Her duties for Soulis were completed, and again she felt elation and depression at the thought. Still, she had a nice sum of money coming her way and that helped salve the thoughts going through her head.

She walked out of the classroom and into the middle of a bright day that made her wish she’d brought her sunglasses. They were still in the car, where they did her absolutely no good.

She checked her cell phone for messages: there were three. Two were from clients who wanted to know when she could see them. One was from Jason. The other two would have to wait for a bit.

She called him back and he answered on the fourth ring. “This is Jason Soulis.”

“Hi, Jason. This is Maggie.”

“How lovely to hear from you.” That accent of his still puzzled her. Somewhere in Europe was a guess, but beyond that, she had no idea. “Thank you for returning my call.”

“I was going to call you, actually. I’m finished with your project.”

A tall man with a military haircut stared at her as she walked past, and she felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise.

At exactly the same time as she caught the freak staring at her, she saw the first of the crows. They came in fast and hard and began landing on the edges of the building around her. Weird.

“That’s wonderful news, Maggie. You’ve made me a very happy man.”

“I’m glad I could help.” What else could she say?

“Do you have plans for tonight? I was thinking about discussing having you stay for the evening.”

“I think I can manage that, Jason.”

“Excellent. I shall make the arrangements with our mutual contact.” The tall man was still watching her. She could feel his eyes on her like oil on water: slick but not sticking, and definitely a little disgusting.

“Please do.” She had no desire whatsoever to speak with Tom. He was being a prick lately and she was thinking more and more of ending her business deals with him. Of course, he probably wouldn’t be thrilled about that. Okay, he might be homicidal.

“I shall see you around seven then?”

She checked her watch. That gave her three hours and spare change. “It sounds perfect, Jason. I’ll see you then.”

“Maggie?”

“Yes?”

“Wear something nice for me, please.”

“I will, just for you.”

The conversation went on for what seemed like forever. Ben felt numb inside, but he did his best to answer the questions one last time.

Boyd pushed another cola at him as soon as the waitress brought it over. “Okay, Ben. I want to go over this last part, and then we’ll be done. Honest.”

“Hey. You bought me a burger and a lot of caffeine. It’s okay.”

Boyd smiled and nodded. “Okay, what happened to the files he dropped off?”

“I found the one I needed and burned the rest.”

Holdstedter looked at him, his broad Nordic face puzzled. “Why did you burn them?”

“Because, I didn’t want anyone to find out what those girls went through.”

“You didn’t even look through the files first? To see what was in them?”

“Look, I was trying to do someone a favor, okay? She was depressed and she was probably ready to have a meltdown and I wanted to see her happy again. Is that so hard to understand?”

Boyd answered for his partner. “Honestly? Yes, it is.”

“Why?”

“Do you have any idea what most people would have done in your situation?”

“No,” he shrugged. He hadn’t really given it much thought.

“My guess is a lot of guys would have used it to their advantage.”

“Jesus. I could never do that.”

Boyd looked at him hard and then his expression softened just a little. “Yeah. I believe you. But you’re the exception that proves the rule, Ben. I’ve dealt with a lot of kids your age who would have done all sorts of things with the information you had, but you’re the only one I can think of who would have burned the stuff.”

“Well, maybe that was my way of stopping myself from becoming a statistic.”

“Then good for you. For the record, you did break a lot of laws, and some of them would land you in prison with some damned mean characters. But even if I hadn’t made a promise to you, I wouldn’t press charges. You’re good people, Ben Kirby. Try to stay that way.”

The detective stood up and his partner did the same. Boyd handed him a business card. “You have any problems from Pardue, you give me a call.”

“Why did you tell him I was a suspect?”

“Because I saw you two knew each other. This way, when I come down on him, and I will come down on him, he won’t blame you.”

“What… what exactly does he do?”

“What doesn’t he do?” Boyd looked him up and down and then shrugged. “He deals dope, he works a few small protection rackets, and he pimps college girls.”

Something cold grew through the lining of Ben’s stomach.

Boyd watched him and got a strange expression on his face. It was strange, Ben suspected, because it seldom showed up on his features. It was pity.

Ben hated him a little for that, but he hid it. The detectives left, and Ben stayed where he was. He knew he’d have to move eventually, but he didn’t like the idea. He didn’t like much of anything at the moment.

Some truths hurt more than others.

This particular revelation hurt like hell.

Alan came home to absolute silence. He’d tried calling several times, but without much success. No one answered but the machine.

The sun was just setting by the time he opened the door to his house and stepped inside. He walked through the living room and then up the stairs, his emotions doing the exact same thing they had the day before. He should have been calm, but it wasn’t working out that way.

The stairs creaked, but he heard no other noises.

The hallway was dark and he walked softly, ignoring the way his knees wanted to shake. What the hell was wrong with him? This was his home, his castle, the place where he should have felt safest. So why am I so fucking scared?

He shook the thought away angrily and moved to the master bedroom’s closed door. He didn’t knock, it was his room.

When the door creaked open he saw Avery and Meghan. For just one second, he thought they were both asleep, nestled together. Then he saw the blood that ran from Avery’s mouth and his mother’s neck.

Avery lifted away from the wound he’d made, and Alan saw the dead staring eyes of his wife as she lay where she had for what was probably a couple of hours. She was dead. He could tell that from ten feet away.

He’d known something was wrong with his son, had tried to deny it to himself, but he’d never guessed.

“Oh, fuck. Avery, what did you do?”

Avery looked at him with eyes as dead as his mother’s and smiled a bloody, sweet smile only granted to ten-year-olds.

“She’s okay, Dad. She will be.”

The pit of his stomach disappeared into an ice storm and he tried to breathe, but nothing came to his lungs. “Unnngh.”

He wanted to speak, to tell Avery to get away from Meghan and let her breathe, let her get some air, because she looked horrible. Her face was completely slack and her eyes stared at the ceiling with rapt fascination. He wanted to reach out and pull his son away from his wife, drag him out of the room and kill him. He wanted to hold Meghan and have her come back to him.

Avery wiped the blood from his lips with his left sleeve. It helped make him look more like he was supposed to look, like he was just a little boy again.

The eyes gave it away; even if he hadn’t seen what Avery was doing to Meghan—and at that thought, he wanted to fall down and die on the spot because the notion of being without her was destroying him—his son’s eyes, gleaming with an odd silvery light, would have destroyed the illusion beyond all repair.

“What did you do?”

“She’ll get better, Dad. I did.” He moved, a small boy, only ten and still waiting for his first growth spurt for the love of God, and before Alan could fully grasp what was happening, his only son was standing at the foot of the bed, at eye level with him.

“What… did… you… do?” This thing could no more be Avery than the pallid dead thing on the bed could be Meghan. That was the realization that let the anger in. It looked like Avery. It called him Dad like Avery, but there was no way that his son could be a killer.

“I’m making her better, Daddy.”

“Where’s my son?” He didn’t recognize his own voice.

“I’m right here.” Avery flashed a smile that belonged on Jack the Ripper far more than it belonged anywhere near the face of his only child. The eyes glittered at him, mocked him, challenged him.

And Alan saw the challenge, heard it in his heart, and accepted it. In two steps he was across the room, covering the distance to the mockery of his beautiful boy. By the third footfall, he had his hands around the monster’s throat and was lifting the fragile weight of a ten-year-old child into the air, his fingers crushing down in rage.

Avery backhanded him hard enough to make him see stars. Alan dropped his hold on the thing with Avery’s face and staggered, his face already swelling from the violent impact.

Avery’s evil twin landed with the grace of a cat and jumped from the bed, sailing through the air until he struck the lamp built into the ceiling. The glass exploded with a brilliant display of sparks and showered down over Alan where he lay. Several pieces of the light’s frosted glass cover fell to the floor; three of them took a detour and stopped in Alan’s left arm, chin, and chest. The pain was intoxicating. Then Avery hit the ground, crouching before he scurried away at an impossible speed.

“You don’t hit me, Daddy! You don’t ever hit me!”

The room fell into complete darkness. Alan’s eyes started to adjust and he felt his pulse double as he strained to hear any sound at all. There was nothing to hear. Avery didn’t even seem to be breathing.

Alan lowered his head to the ground and tried spying where there might be a shadow of the boy’s legs, something to indicate where he might be.

The double pinpoints of silvery light under the bed gave the thing away just before it attacked. Alan rolled, but it was faster than he was. Sharp, savage teeth clamped down on his hand, driving deep into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger, and he let loose a scream.

His free hand shot out in a wide arc and doubled back, slamming into the back of Avery’s head. The only noticeable effect was the teeth slicing deeper than before.

The monster was strong, far stronger than any ten-year-old could ever be. But it didn’t weigh any more than Avery did, and Alan rolled over, using his own weight to pin the struggling, frantic form under him.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Then the small feet of the thing biting all hell out of his hand were suddenly propped against his stomach and he felt the powerful muscles under his son’s Levi’s flex. Alan Tripp was thrown through the air and hit the bedroom window hard enough to shatter it. His head struck a crossbeam and drove through the wood and glass alike, even as his body bounced against the interior of the frame.

Before he could even catch his breath, he felt small hands pushing, shoving his body out the window to the roof outside. He barely had time to realize just what was happening before he was pushed from the steeply angled shingles and sent rolling to the ground below.

Alan kissed the concrete hard, and heard the sound of glass tinkling and fast-moving feet slipping across the roof. A second later he saw Avery’s feet, spread wide apart, slap the ground.

“We’ll come back for you, Daddy.”

Avery loomed over him, the bulk of Meghan’s dead body slung over his shoulder. Her legs and hands scraped the ground around him as he turned and ran, hauling the weight of a woman a full two feet taller than him as if she were a feather pillow.

Alan tried to stand one more time, and failed miserably. The darkness came for him a few seconds later, and he slipped away from consciousness into the soothing balm of dark dreams.