Dream Killer E-Book

Craig Harrigan

• Herausgeber: Youcanprint
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

A girl has been killed in the most brutal possible way. The police department are clueless. All they have to go on is a bloody boot print and a witness who claims to have seen a man leaving the crime scene at around the time of the murder. The victim's father thinks the nerd, Michael Branson, did it. Just before her death, his daughter had dragged Michael in a one sided Twitter feud. One thing he has failed to consider is that Michael is incapable of murder. The worst he can do is lie for a witness who has decided not to come forward. When a second person is killed across town, Michael realizes he knows exactly who is behind the killings. However he cannot tell anyone. It is a secret that will destroy him if he lets it out! As the bodies pile up across town, he is brought face to face with his fears and is forced to make the hardest decision of all. The one that will destroy him, or end the murders.

Leseprobe

Indice

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter three

Chapter Four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter one

When he walked in, she was at her table, busy on her laptop, unaware that death had entered her apartment. Her fingers danced over the keys filling the screen with words. The PC held her attention completely.

She should have known that her time had come. She was after all bopping her head to The Reaper. The music poured out from the sound system that had been rigged up the wall.

Come on baby, don’t fear the reaper/ baby take my hand, don’t fear the reaper/ we’ll be able to fly, don’t fear the reaper/ baby I’m your man.

But he was not her man and there was no one else in the room. There would be nobody to give her a hand to take or to fly with her.

He stood for a while listening with a half-smile on his face. 6 feet and 5 inches of muscle carefully covered up in a thick black coat and a faded denim, he held a baseball bat to his side as he nodded slowly to the la-la-la-la-las of the Blue Oyster Cult.

At last he decided he had heard enough and walked up casually to where she sat. First his shadow fell across the table, draping itself over the book that lay open, next to the laptop, then death followed. It swung through air, hanging precariously onto the club that sought out her face.

The girl had no time to scream. One moment she was turning, twisting around, her eyes wide with alarm and her mouth hanging open in an o, the next moment she was falling sideways, pushed out of her chair by the impact of his blow. The chair tumbled over, after her, hitting the floor the same time she did. But it was not as damaged as she was.

Her nose was surely broken. It was dribbling a lot of blood. Her consciousness had drifted away too, for she lay there unmoving.

For a moment he stood over her listening hard. Wondering if anyone had heard. It was hard to know since the music filled his ears.

The bat rose into the air again and went down with force, wrenching out blood from her head. It spattered all over the linoleum staining it. But there was not a sound to be heard from her. She was already far gone. Yet he didn’t stop, instead he hit her again and again and again, until her head was an unrecognizable pulp.

It was only then that he stopped to catch his breath. It was coming in harsh gasps. It was done now. Exhilaration gripped him, making him laugh. He stepped back from the body and turned to leave. The bath in his hand dripped blood on the floor as he walked across the room, back to the door that had let him in.

The stairwell was empty. He paused at the door, waiting to see if anyone would come out. Back in the room The Reaper had come to its end. In its place, silence reigned, but only for a moment, before the first notes of the next song on her playlist floated to his ears. It was 50 Cent’s Many Men.

This girl seemed to have some affinity with death.

Shaking his head in wonder the man left her apartment. He treaded lightly on the stairs, yet went down fast. There were only two flights of stairs between him and the foyer and down there, there was not a living soul present to challenge him.

He walked out through the front door and went down the street, into the night. As he walked, he swung the bat absently mindedly, taking care to ensure that the blood on it did not stain him. He already had a bit on his shoes and trousers but that would not be a problem. They were not enough to get anybody’s attention. Besides he would get rid of them when he got back to his place.

Fortunately there was nobody in sight. But that was only to be expected. Everybody on this side of the planet was asleep, except for him and the moon which followed his every move with its soft light. The echo of his footfalls on the pavement was music to his ear. Unfortunately there was no voice to sing along to it and he couldn’t make it his voice. He would attract attention. That would be very much unwise.

Home was on the other side of the city, close to the campus. It was a studio apartment. That was the problem. There wasn’t as much privacy as he would have liked. His privacy started and ended in his room. Once he left that hallowed sanctuary, he would be exposed to the eyes of his flat mates, nay the world. However, it was better than living on campus. Hiding a bloody bat and stowing away blood stained trousers and shoes would be harder if he had to share a room. Thankfully he didn’t.

None of his neighbors was up when he went in. He was terribly thankful for that. It would have been tiring having to kill another person before the night was done. All the excitement in him had been drained by the walk back here.

Keeping an eye on the other doors in the hallway he fished out his keys quickly and unlocked his own door. His phone was ringing. Its ringtone jarred him. Afraid that it’d wake anyone he hurried into the room and closed the door behind him.

“Where is that damn thing?” he growled.

It wasn’t on the night stand where he usually left it. His reading table was stacked with texts and a single notebook lying open with his pen on it, but the phone was not there either. The bureau didn’t have it as well.

It was getting louder. It was as if the sound was gradually getting amplified by some unseen forces. It was certainly going to wake up the entire block if he failed to find it on time. He couldn’t let them wake up now. It was too early. There was still the clothes to dispose of.

“What the heck”

He went over the room frantically, throwing up things as he searched for his cellphone.

“Michael”

He turned and was hit by the harsh glare of a bright torchlight.

“It’s your darned alarm again” Lizzy said. “Turn off the damn thing”

The light went off and with it the last vestiges of sleep left him. He had been dreaming. The realization made him thankful. The dream had seemed so real. Even now images from that world danced around his mind’s eye.

His phone was ringing on the nightstand next to him. On the other side of the bed, his girlfriend Lizzy groaned. “Michael” she placed her pillow over her head so it would cover her ears.

Dazed Michael reached for his phone. It was a call, not his alarm. The number was not among his saved contacts. “Hello?”

“I’m I speaking with Michael Branson?” The voice was a woman’s own, pumped up by distress. Why did she call him this early in the day?

“Yes. Who am I speaking with?” Michael asked.

“My name is Vadoma Lash, Joey’s sister.” Her voice was so loud, she was almost shouting.

“Joey’s sister?”

“Yes. I need the bangle back”

“The bangle?”

“Yes, the bangle!” Now she was shouting.

Michael swung his legs down from the bed and raised himself. The bangle was supposed to be on the night stand, but it wasn’t there. He had only to think for a brief moment before he realized it was on his wrist.

“Hello, are you there?” Vadoma Lash, Joey’s sister asked.

“Yes, I am” Michael assured her.

“Don’t you dare hang up on me!”

“Jeez, stop shouting?”

“Just give me the bangle!”

The bangle. Michael looked at it again now. On his left wrist it glowed faintly in the dark. The beads had been coated with a luminous paint. It had been given to him by his best friend Joey. On the day she left Kansas. He could remember it now as if it was yesterday.

It was a bright summer morning. The sky was a clear blue and the air was crisp, but Joey’s eyes were not. They glistened with bright unshed tears.

“I want you to have a piece of me wherever you go” she said and took his hand. He looked down and saw that she had slipped a bangle onto his wrists. It was the strangest thing he had ever seen. The beads were made of a glass with the flat sides of a polygon and were held together by a flat round metal that had the likeness of a face on it. They glinted in the sunlight. “You will keep it won’t you?” Joey asked.

“Yes I will” Michael told her.

She kissed him briefly on the lips. He had not expected it and so had been powerless to stop it. All he could do was watch her leave, knowing that it would probably be the last time he would see her.

Now her sister wanted the bangle back.

“You say you are…Joey’s sister?” Michael asked.

“Yes, yes.” Vadoma replied. “Will you bring the bangle for me?”

He got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door after himself.

“Are you there?” she asked.

“Yes I am” he kept his voice low and sat on the toilet.

“You will bring it won’t you?”

“I don’t understand this, Joey gave me the bangle as a parting gift.”

“It wasn’t hers to give. It is a family heirloom. She cannot give it to a stranger. You have to return it.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll have to talk to her first.”

“Do whatever you want, but bring the bangle to me this night. Our mother must have it back”

“Your mother?”

“Yes, we are in San Diego now. You have to come today”

“Wait, you want me to come to San Diego?”

“Yes, with the bangle”