Final Victim

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He scrolled down and saw a unit confirmation:

He could hear the siren in the distance getting nearer. He typed a new address into the computer, reversing only the first two digits, hoping this would look to the police later on like a simple transposition mistake.

He sent the new message:

He hit the "Send" option and waited, his heart pounding. The siren was getting closer: on this very block, approaching the house. Then it stopped and seemed to turn around. He could hear the police car siren speed away, the piercing sound diminishing. He grabbed his laptop and his suitcase, packed everything up, and ran through the mess he had made, out of the house through the front door. He was frightened and galloped as he ran. He got into the rental car and pulled out and down the street, going fast.

From the house next door, Heather watched him go. She was crying. "Why did the police go away?" she asked the next-door neighbors. The man and woman shook their heads, bewildered.

It was twenty minutes before the police returned. By then, Heather had already found her dead mother's body and was sitting on the floor in a corner of the bedroom, her mother's blood all over. The police tried to question her, but Heather Lockwood was deep in shock.