Streamed to Kill (The Dead Speak Book 3) by Emmy Ellis

Author:Emmy Ellis [Ellis, Emmy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Leaning on the bedroom doorjamb, David waited twenty minutes for the medicine to kick in. By the deepness of Cheryl’s breathing, she was ready for transportation. It was earlier than he usually went out, but that was okay, he had yet to wash her so that would take up some minutes.

He tweaked the bra strap and smiled as it snapped back onto his shoulder. Did the same with the side of the knickers. That snap wasn’t as satisfactory, but no matter.

It was time to bathe her in bleach again, get as much of this place off her as he could. If anything remained after that, the stream would hopefully take care of it. And it had with the other women, so he shouldn’t have thought ‘hopefully’. The stream would sort things. It was his accomplice, the element that put the cherries firmly on top of the cakes he made. He smiled at thinking of himself as a baker. Maybe when he got home later he’d make a batch of biscuits and sit and eat them on his bed with Sally.

He bent down to pick her up. Took her into the bathroom. Lowered the toilet lid then sat her on top so she faced the bath and could watch everything he did. Then he returned to collect Cheryl. She was easy to carry, so light. She still smelt of bleach from her last bath, although the scent had faded a bit, the aroma of sleep and inactivity masking it.

He put her in the bath, the beautiful smell of new bleach in the hot water filling his nose. It reminded him of swimming pools, of the strong stench of chlorine he’d loved so much as a kid when they’d had lessons in the school pool. He let her go, the level low enough that her face didn’t go under but high enough that it reached her collarbones. Satisfied she was submerged adequately, he bent her legs then placed his hand on her head. Took a second to fully feel the tickle of her hair on his skin. Her brittle, bleach-ruined blonde hair. He pushed her beneath the water so her head was completely under. Every bit of her needed a bleaching, so he kept his hand on her head and stared at his watch until fifteen seconds had passed.

The medicine had rendered her so out of it she didn’t struggle, didn’t even know she was in the bloody bath. Didn’t appear to be breathing. He eased her up again and straightened her legs, putting her feet flat against the end so she didn’t slip. At this point he usually let them remain under the water until they went home-home, then pulled them back out so he could hold one of their eyes open with finger and thumb to check for the grey clouds over the blue iris moon. This time he wanted to do it differently. Mr Clever hadn’t said he couldn’t, and that was always a good sign.

“It’s healthy to have a bit of a change, isn’t it, Sally?” He glanced over his shoulder while he knelt.

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