He rubbed his hands over his face, shook his head in disbelief, and went back to steering everyone away.
Mike Bowden stood in the background, pale, sweating. Shocked, I think, disturbed definitely. His phone was clutched tightly in his hand, was he taking photos? I wouldn’t have thought this was the kind of news that’d help the development go ahead. Maybe the pay cheque was done with and the story took precedence.
Jodie had her hands over her mouth, aghast, and Michael’s arm were around her shoulders. She wept silently. Georgie came running through to help, her eyes met mine. I shook my head.
“Move back,” she ordered the still gathered circle of bystanders, immediately the professional. Her fingers felt for a pulse, she lowered her head to his face, listening for breath. She lifted Ethan’s jacket up, her face paled, and she sat it back down.She didn’t try CPR—she knew the extent of his injuries—there was nothing that could be done.
Monique stood further back. Her eyes were unsympathetic to the point of amusement. First the dog, now Jefferson, and both times she was there. Both with similar wounds.
She smiled. The bitch smiled.
My chest heaved. I felt the anger burst through my veins. Karson seemed to sense my anger, he moved himself between us.
“Now is not the time for foolish behaviour,” he spoke gruffly into my ear. He looked pointedly at Monique. He spoke so low I couldn’t hear it. I could only decipher he was speaking by the minute movement of his lips. She rolled her eyes and left.
Dahlia stood quietly in the background, watching. She looked bitter, disgusted, and she, too, walked away.
Karson handed me a white handkerchief. “Calm yourself and wipe your hands.”
I unclenched fists I hadn’t realized were clenched. I was covered in Jefferson’s blood. I moved away towards the tree line. My hands shook. I rubbed at the blood, but some had already dried, and was stuck to my skin. The pain I’d seen etched on Chris’s face at losing a parent was crushingly familiar. I rubbed harder. When someone you loved dies, the world goes on, as it always goes on, but you’re left hollow, feeling like some part of you is constantly missing. Some days you get through life just by placing one foot in front of the other. Family gatherings for birthdays, Christmas or Thanksgiving once celebrated and full of joy, become just another painful reminder of the loss.
My eyes burned, I blinked back the tears. Chris’s life will never be the same again. I rubbed so hard my hands felt raw and the blood remained, etched like demonic scrawls on some ancient hidden tomb.
Run.That word again. I shuddered.
Chapter 47
Lethal Predators
Ethan disappeared, so Karson took me home. We sat in morbid silence. He didn’t speak, as if he knew I needed space to process it all. Not that I was able to effectively process such an horrific death. Jefferson’s blood coated the dress and made me feel nauseous. Numb and hollow, I headed up the stairs.
“I'm going to shower.”
“I’ll wait here until Ethan gets back.”
I stopped halfway up the stairs and spun back. “Where is he?”
“He stayed at Jefferson’s house to see what else he could find out.”
I blinked. “The man's dead. His body still warm and you break into his house?”
He reached for the whisky decanter and poured a drink. “He didn’t exactly break in. The house was still open and we still need to find out what his plans are. And perhaps Ethan may find out why he was killed.” He sat the bottle down, lifted his glass and took a sip with a blatant look of indifference.
It felt wrong to me, but I found no compelling argument beneath the shades of right and wrong. “Did he kill them?Jefferson? Did he kill the Tolle’s?” I asked, holding the balustrade with one hand to steady myself against the answer. I surprised myself by praying he didn’t. He seemed nice, not just nice, but decent. I needed to hear a face of normality was exactly as it appeared and not some act that masked a monster. “Did you read his mind to find out?”
He shook his head. “I can read thoughts, but he would have to be thinking about it to know. I need to place my hands on the side of his head to delve deeper or sink my teeth into his neck, which wouldn’t have been an issue later had he remained alive for me to do so.”
“Why didn’t you let me take him to the office, I could have asked him.” I threw a hand out, exasperated. “You could have followed me, and we’d know.” And he’d still be alive.
He stared at me, a dark glint of danger sparking in his eyes. He spoke gruffly, “I was not about to let you go anywhere with that man.”
Arguing further was pointless and I was suddenly too exhausted. It struck me then with a ferocity I just watched a man die. Watched his son break down as I had when my mother died. It’s a terrible pain that can’t be described. I turned away, feeling on the verge of breaking.
I went to my room and pressed the door shut behind me, dragging in a few deep breaths. The stench of Jefferson’s blood ignited in my nose and made my stomach churn.
Get the blood off.
I couldn't undo the zip at the top of the dress, it had a clasp that my arms couldn’t bend back far enough for my fingers to reach.
