Infernal Vengeance by N.P. Martin

Author:N.P. Martin [Martin, N.P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-08T22:00:00+00:00

13

Emerging from the alley and walking around to the street, I was about to head toward my car when, on a hunch, I slowed down and stepped under the shadow of a tree. A crowd had gathered in front of the Pollock house, most of whom seemed to be from the press, either holding a camera or talking into one as they reported the triple murder to their hungry viewers.

Behind the press, others stood as well. I figured some were nosey neighbors who lived on the street, but as I surveyed the crowd, I also figured the Heart Collector might be among the crowd as well. The bastard liked to hang around after and watch the proceedings after all, going by how many times he appeared in those crime scene photos.

I was about thirty feet from the house, but thanks to the streetlights and the lights from the press vans and cameras, I could make out most of the people standing around clearly enough, and one of them stood out. A man in a dark trench coat wearing a fedora hat like the one worn by the killer the night he killed Larry.

It’s you, you son of a bitch.

I knew it was him just by the way he stood. While everyone else was moving around trying to get a better view inside the house, jerking their heads this way and that, the man in the fedora hat stood stock still as he stared forward, literally standing out from the crowd, knowing full well what horrors lay inside the house because it was him who created them.

I know it’s you, you fuck. Don’t fucking move…

Stepping out from under the darkness of the tree, I started walking down the street, keeping my eyes on the man in the hat. But despite trying to stay casual, I couldn’t keep the intensity out of my stare, and the killer must’ve felt my eyes on him, for he turned his head to look at me as I moved down the street toward him. It was difficult to see his face because of how low he was wearing his hat, but I could sense the fucker was smiling as if he knew who I was and what I was about to do. I could also tell that he was still in good shape for his age, and his predatory instincts practically oozed out of him. By his demeanor, I sensed he might be ex-military as well. He stood straight with his broad shoulders pushed back.

Soldier or not, the sick fuck was going down.

My hand went inside my coat for my gun, but as my fingers wrapped around the butt, the Heart Collector moved quickly into the nearby crowd and disappeared for a second.

I broke into a run then, my gun now out as I reached the murder house. All heads turned to me as people realized I was carrying a gun. Then the cameras were pointed at me as well.

“Who is that?” a reporter asked. “I know him.

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