Not a good weapon, but for now I’ll have to improvise.
The rain smacks me in the face, soaking me as I prowl to the front door.
My eyes slowly adjust from the glare of my headlights, and I maneuver carefully.
Someone’s still in there with Margot.
They sure as hell won’t leave here alive if they’ve hurt her.
A few lights in the house are on, blazing against the dull night, mostly upstairs.
No sign of anyone near the windows.
The curtains are open, and I can see from this angle that her bedroom window is cracked, though there’s no light inside.
Moving through the gloom, I approach the porch from the side. Gnarled bushes scrape my pants.
I see the front door cracked open and a lamp on, though from this angle, I can’t see inside.
My gut knots.
Margot would never leave the front door open, especially in this situation.
I stop to listen, holding my breath. I can’t make out anything besides rain hammering the house.
I need to get closer, dammit.
Wind whips around the house as I stalk across the porch, keeping out of view and—
Fuck, that’s a smear of blood.
Like dark ink against the light wood, already being washed away by the rain.
A shadow moves in front of me, all slow, halting motion and a low curse.
I’m on them before I can make out who.
Joseph Babin, I realize a second later.
He’s staggering along the porch like he’s been thrashed within an inch of his life.
A second later, I have his collar in my fist and I’ve hurled him against the house. In the near darkness, I can just see the bleary whites of his eyes.
“W-wait,” he says hoarsely, scratching at my wrist. “Wait!”
“Fuck you.” I push my face close to his. “What thehellare you doing here? Where is she?”
His breath smells foul. I don’t bother hiding my disgust.
He looks like he’s about to piss himself.
I hope he’s scared for his pathetic life. It’s very much hanging in the balance right now, depending on what he says next.
“It… it wasn’t me,” he gurgles. His fingers shake weakly as he tries to free his wrist. “I didn’t do it. Please, you have to—”
“Why are you here, asshole? Where’s Margot? Tell me!” I shake him like a piñata.
He turns his head slightly, and I see the bloody gash at the back, like someone smacked him with blunt force.
