Killing Time by Brenna Ehrlich

Author:Brenna Ehrlich
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkyard Press
Published: 2022-01-06T19:06:27+00:00

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The house on Sycamore had been abandoned for more than ten years now, ever since the family who owned it, the Parkers, had lost their savings to some Ponzi scheme. For a while, no one wanted to live there because it just seemed wreathed in bad energy. And then it came out that the place was built on swampland, and no one could sell it, anyway. At one point, a big theme-park developer had proposed building one of his sites there, but Sandy Tarver and all the other town ladies soon put the kibosh on that. They said it was because of some kind of endangered duck that lived in the swamp, but everyone knew they just didn’t want to deal with any more tourists.

It was silent at the Victorian when she arrived—not even an errant, rare-duck call. In the quiet, Natalie could hear the house groaning around her, the scarpering of something exploring the basement for food. She watched her blurred reflection in the face of an old TV crouching in the corner, on the top of which, mysteriously, was perched a jar of ancient pickles. She wondered if they were from the last party that was thrown in the house—or if they belonged to the previous residents.

“Kurt?” she called out in a half whisper, flicking on her phone light. “Are you there?” She jumped as he emerged from the shadows in the adjoining room.

“This place is wild,” he said, running his hand over the moldering wallpaper—dusky roses and fat angels. “There’s used condoms in every room. Every room! Who the hell would want to have sex here?”

Natalie wrapped her arms around herself. “Yeah, no kidding. Even I’m not that creepy.”

“I don’t think you’re creepy at all.” Kurt stepped into the light. He was wearing black again, shocker, but this time he had topped it all with a battered Yankees cap.

“Didn’t take you for a baseball fan.” She pointed at the cap.

Kurt chuckled and flicked the brim. “My dad’s. I hate baseball.” His face fell and then snapped back into a smile so fast that Natalie almost missed it. He clapped. “Okay, enough small talk. What did you find out?”

Natalie flinched. She was decidedly not the bearer of good news, and he looked so excited. “Well,” she started, watching Kurt’s face, “they have a footprint. One of Mr. Halsey’s. And that’s the only print upstairs in the house, aside from Mrs. Halsey’s.”

Kurt’s face remained blank, then he slammed a fist into the wall. “Fuck!” he growled, then winced and shook his hand when the pain set in.

Natalie shrank away, for the first time feeling more than a little frightened of the pretty boy in front of her. Something about Kurt seemed erratic, like a jack-in-the-box that could burst out at any minute. Natalie loved horror movies, sure, but she was less keen on real-life jump scares. She took a step back, eyeing Kurt’s red face. “But that’s it,” she sputtered. “That’s all they have.”

“Well, it’s not good, is it?” Kurt asked, almost pleading.

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