The Perfect Crime by Jason Brant

Author:Jason Brant
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jason Brant

Shouts roused him.

Opening his eyes took a herculean effort. Bright light blinded him as he pried his eyelids apart. Dried tears and blood held them together before they finally sprang open.

He was face down in the middle of his living room. The morning sun shined through the picture window in the front of the room.

Grit laced the inside of his mouth. He ran his tongue along the inside of cheeks, dislodging the rough specks that stuck there. He spit a red glob on the carpet.

A despairing groan escaped his lips as he stared at fragments of his teeth floating in the crimson phlegm.

Men shouted from somewhere nearby.

Andrew tried to get to his knees, found he couldn’t move.

He struggled to get his legs under him, but they were unresponsive. Numbness ran through his hands and feet, the feeling so complete that a momentary panic overtook him as he thought the stranger had amputated them.

His neck cracked as he looked over his shoulder.

Rope bound his ankles and wrists, cinching them close together. The man had hogtied him.

But he was alive.

And help was just outside.

The front door exploded inward, the frame splintering.

Men poured into the living room, guns drawn, shouting profanities. They wore SWAT-style uniforms.

The men paused when they saw Andrew on the floor.

“The fuck?” one of them said. He aimed a shotgun at Andrew’s head.

More officers swept past him, searching the rest of the house for threats.

Detective Lloyd stepped through the front door. He wore a perfectly pressed suit. The sunlight gleamed off his shaved head as it had during his previous visits. Shock flashed in his eyes when he saw Phillips on the floor, before churning to open contempt.

He strode over to Phillips and knelt beside him. He whispered, “Who did this to you? Was it the man I brought by yesterday?”

Phillips didn’t answer. Fresh tears stung his eyes as he thought about the stranger beating him unconscious.

“Fucking Ash.” The detective nodded and stood up. “Andrew Phillips, you’re under arrest.”

He spewed out the rest of the Miranda Rights, the words seeming to make him ill as he rapped them off to Phillips. “Get this piece garbage out of here.” He gestured to an officer by the door. “You saw the video this morning, right?”

The officer nodded and glowered down at Phillips. “Yes, sir.”

“Then you should know that I won’t be too upset if he bumps his head a few times on the way to your cruiser.” Lloyd looked back to Phillips one last time. He lowered his voice to a tiny whisper. “I’m going to make sure you fry.”

They didn’t bother to untie Phillips before throwing him in the back of a police cruiser. They carried him, still hogtied, through his front yard and tossed him in the backseat. His head slammed off the door, sending a fresh wave of misery through him.

Reporters swarmed the outside of the car, pointing cameras and microphones at the windows. They shouted questions and condemnations about the video he’d posted the night before.

Apparently, it had gone viral that morning.

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