Finding Justice - A Mystery Ghost Thriller Romance For Young Adults by J. O. Osbourne

Author:J. O. Osbourne [Osbourne, J. O.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2012-07-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The killer stood overseeing his handiwork before dropping with hands on knees for a few moments, catching his breath. He pressed a hand over where his heart was undoubtedly pounding before sinking to the ground, burying his face in his hands. He rocked back and forth for quite some time, rolling onto his side in a fetal position.

Then, seeming to collect himself, he stood, brushed the dirt from his clothing, and retreated up the nonexistent path, this time with a shovel over his shoulder instead of a corpse. He let himself into Nathan’s house through the wide-open door, which he kicked shut behind himself before getting to work. Filling a bowl with hot water from the sink, he began scrubbing up puddles of blood, using a shirt of Nathan’s found in the laundry pile as a rag. When the water became too bloody to be effective, merely smearing streaks of red over the wooden walls, the killer found himself making multiple trips, dumping the filthy water down the drain. He accidentally forced small puddles into the cracks between floorboards as he worked, whereupon the liquid was trapped to congeal between the wood and the concrete.

Staring around the loft bedroom, the killer began piling Nathan’s few belongings pell-mell onto Nathan’s thin, flexible mat on the floor. Clothing, some stationary, and both framed and unframed photographs of trees and frogs were all piled onto the futon. He rolled the whole thing up and tied it with some string before dropping the bundle down the ladder. Although cushioned by the mat, the tinkling of broken glass from the frames was audible.

The killer tried to fan air down his shirt; the stuffy summer night was warm enough to cause a sweat, and the mask, gloves, and concealing articles of clothing were doing nothing to aid in air circulation. He panted again and seemed to consider stripping off some of his outerwear, then decided against it. Descending the ladder, he repeated the same procedure as he had performed the floor above, forcing all of Nathan’s belongings into compact little piles. He rifled through objects as he went until, tossing a pair of pants onto the pile, a distinctive jingling noise filled the air. The killer pounced on the clothing, ripping the pockets apart until he had found the collection of keys on a ring.

Hurrying outside and starting up Nathan’s rusty red truck, the killer ran back and forth as fast as he could, filling the bed of the truck with all of Nathan’s earthly possessions. At long last he removed the house key from the ring and dropped it to the wooden floor of the entryway before quietly closing the door behind himself. The sound of the truck rumbling off could be heard for several long minutes, leaving behind an empty house which appeared as if neither Nathan nor any killer had ever been there.

Yanking her head away from Nathan and gasping for breath as if she had been underwater, Olivia fell onto her back, where she struggled for anything to say.

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