The Caller

Eighty-Two

Hunter had every intention of following Garcia’s advice. After dropping Erica Barnes back at her place, the idea really was to drive home and try to get some sleep, but the two screenshots Erica had captured on her cellphone were playing havoc with his mind, so Hunter decided to do a quick detour and stop by his office.

He had emailed himself the two screenshots from Erica’s cellphone as he dropped her off, being sure to also delete them from her phone’s ‘Image Gallery’. The media had now definitely caught the scent of blood, and if they ever got word that those two screenshots existed, they would do just about anything to get their hands on them.

Once Hunter’s computer finished booting up, he quickly found Erica’s email and double-clicked on the first of the two attached images — the killer’s horror mask.

Despite how terrifying, how sickening the mask looked, it was practically a work of art, crafted out of silicone rubber. The facial laceration that ran from the right corner of his lips, across his cheek and all the way to his right ear looked fresh, as if it’d been made into real flesh just moments earlier. Hunter almost expected blood to come pouring out of it. The mask’s sharp, blood-smeared teeth looked half-human, half-animal, but very real. The exposed lower jawbone and nose were incredibly detailed, with the eyes, covered by two blood-red sclera contact lenses, indeed looking like they belonged to a dem—

Hunter’s heart picked up speed, as adrenaline flooded his veins with such intensity it made his whole body shiver, because that was when he saw it.