Blood Red

Boyd was different though. If Rich Boyd had any family, he hid them away well. Still, he knew how he could hurt the man. Nancy Whalen would do in place of a family member.

I don’t get it. Why hasn’t he bagged her yet? I know he wants to. I know she wants him to, so why not? I mean, it can’t just be because she’s married, can it?

He didn’t have time to answer the question. The noises started up before he could give Boyd and Whalen another thought.

They started near the roof. The sounds were soft and chaotic, slow scratching noises that could almost have been a squirrel stuck in the eaves, but he knew better. They were too even and paced for that. The chaos came from the fact that it was more than one set of claws scratching at the shingles above his head.

Like they’re digging for something.

Like they’re digging for me.

The scraping noises moved, shifting, sliding down the sides of the house. He ran to the front door, to the light switches there, and flipped them all on. Light splashed across the lawn and woods. White, fearsomely bright Halogen lights sprayed the world in vibrant colors and drove away the darkness.

Brian heard a feminine giggle above his head.

“You shut up! Shut the fuck up and go away!” His throat felt strained from the shriek, hot and scratchy in an instant.

The giggling continued and spread out. There were at least four of the damned things on his roof now, and the noises became more frantic.

He paced, trying to decide what he should do. He couldn’t call the police, because he was the police. How would it look to the guys if he couldn’t even handle a few scary noises?

But he couldn’t. Not really. The fucking sounds were driving him crazy.

“I’ve got a gun! I’ve got three of them! I’ll shoot if I have to!” Epiphany. He did have guns, and he had ammo. He went to the closet in the master bedroom and quickly unlocked his gun safe. Inside he had one .44 Magnum revolver, one .357 Magnum pistol, and one 12-gauge shotgun.

He was just starting to put the bullets in the revolver when the power went out. From outside he could hear a loud, crackling buzz for a moment and then he saw a brilliant flash of sparks cascade down past the bedroom window an instant before the power died.

“Oh fuck me . . .”

“Briiiiannnnnn . . .” He recognized the voice, of course. He’d been married to her for a few years and had dated her for almost four years before they were married.

Brian turned to the window and saw a blur of a pale white face and long, dark blond hair outside. A second later a hand slapped the glass hard enough to make it vibrate and slowly dragged across it, leaving behind a heavy trail of wetness that smeared through the dirt on the exterior of the window panes. A moment later, it too was gone.

“Briiiaannnn . . . come out and play with me, baby . . . I’m lonely . . .”

“Angie? Is that really you?”

“Brian . . . baby . . . where were you? I was waiting for you outside. I was waiting and you didn’t show up . . .”

“Angie, you’re scaring me . . .” His voice broke. God, to hear her talking to him caused a war of emotions. He missed her, deeply and dearly, but she sounded so cold, so mocking, and the hand he saw was too pale to ever be hers.

While he was looking at the window, he saw thick streamers of hair slide down from above. There was no light to see clearly; he couldn’t make out the face that slid into view, save for the eyes and their odd, silvery reflection. Whoever was out there had to be hanging above the window to look in from that angle. Dead white hands touched the glass again, pressing against it until the fingerprints flattened slightly and the face came lower, revealing little more than a shadow.

Angie’s voice came from the shape, calm and sweet and teasing. “Remember when we met, baby? The dirty things you used to whisper to me when we were fucking?”

Brian expelled the air from his lungs and sucked in a breath, his entire body sweating.

“Angie, baby, you have to go away. I can’t deal with you right now.”

“Ssshhhhhhh. Don’t go being mean now, baby. I miss you.” That little pout she’d put in her voice when she wanted him was there, teasing and taunting as she slid still lower, her full breasts hanging down. She wore no clothes, and he remembered finding them on the porch. Whoever had taken her had torn the clothing from her body. He remembered that, too.

“Angie, please . . . go away. I don’t want to hurt you. Come back tomorrow, okay? I can be brave by then, I know I can. I can be brave for you.” He was crying silent tears that ran down his face and spilled across his chin.

“Can’t you love me like you used to, baby?” She sounded so sexy, she always sounded sexy when she was in the mood.