Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
His eyes widen and more gurgling noises work out of his throat.
“Yes, I think we’ll do it in your special little hidden room.”
The pieces of my macabre puzzle fall into place as I turn back to the kitchen and grab my small backpack of goodies. I take out the rope, hitch the backpack over my shoulder, and return to the living room.
“I was worried the drugs might not knock you out so I—”
Gade’s belly-crawling and wriggling across the floor like a snake slithering for freedom.
“Oh no you don’t.” I knew I’d gotten too cocky. Hurrying to close the distance between us, I land on his back with one knee. “Where do you think you’re going?” I brace my other foot against the floor and loop the rope around his neck, yanking hard.
His forward motion stops but he thrashes underneath me. I yank the rope tighter and tighter, thankful for the gloves protecting my palms. Finally, he stops moving.
“You better not be dead yet.” Wary it might be a trick, I slowly ease myself off of him, still holding tight to the rope and breathing hard.
Now what?
Thankfully, he’s not a big man. I thread the rope through the zip ties around his wrists and use it to drag him to his bedroom. His body rustles and scrapes over the floor. Damn, the police will probably notice the drag marks through all the dustiness and grime of the house.
Then again, they’re going to find him stuffed in the wall and missing at least one body part, so that’ll kind of make it obvious it wasn’t suicide.
Dragging him down the hallway isn’t hard. Making the turn into the bedroom is a little more difficult. Pulling him into the closet and then through the space in the wall—is like pushing dough through a keyhole.
His wrists are raw and bleeding. Definitely no hiding that. Even if he’s here for a while, decomposing before he’s found, evidence that he was bound will still be there.
It’s awkward in the tight space. I end up crouching over him to tie the rope around his neck in a noose knot. Underneath me he wakes with a shuddering gasp. His body flips, his shoulder banging into my thigh and knocking me off balance.
“Shit!” I land painfully on my knees.
Still bound by the zip ties, he awkwardly flops and rolls to his hands and knees, then pitches forward, hitting the floor with his shoulder.
“Enough of this,” I growl, yanking the rope hard. The knot slides down, tightening around his neck.
He chokes and curls his thumbs under the rope, trying to tug it free but it’s sturdy rope and I practiced this particular knot over and over before tonight.
Groaning in pain, I stand and limp toward the wall. Dragging the rope with him flailing at the end with all my might, I lasso my end around the nail I almost impaled myself on earlier and tug straight down.
Gade gets to his knees and tries to crawl toward the door.
The knot around his neck tightens. He pitches forward but the rope keeps him from hitting the floor. I hurry to tie the loose end into another knot, tightening it, effectively hanging him in mid-air. I’ve assisted with a few bodies of people who accidentally strangled themselves during solo-sex sessions. I always thought it would be a fitting way for Gade to die. If I hadn’t found the nail, I probably would’ve used those tall bedposts that almost reach the ceiling. But this is better.
I pull on the rope again, wanting to choke every wisp of life from this evil man.
His body twitches and struggles as I step in front of him. The nail in the wall should hold. Even if it doesn’t, Gade’s too close to death to do much about it. I set my backpack on the floor and pull out the small glass lab jar, unscrewing the cap and setting it on the floor. I shake out a large plastic bag with a zippered seal at the top and set it next to the jar.
Gade’s eyes dart wildly while he chokes and drools, his skin turning an ugly shade of red.
“Hopefully for you, that anesthetic hasn’t worn all the way off.” I pull out my scalpel, gripping it tightly. I can’t feel the coolness of the metal through my gloves, but I don’t need to.
Gade’s tongue pokes between his lips. Red dots speckle the whites of his eyes as his body swings wildly to the side, desperate for oxygen.
“I have to listen to a lot of sermons in my line of work. Even took some theology classes in college.” My tone remains conversational and steady, even though inside I’m shaking. “And you know which quote always resonated with me the most?”
Gade’s eyes widen and he shakes his head.
“Don’t worry, I’m not a religious nut.” A wicked smile stretches across my face. “My job’s turned me into an atheist, if anything. No, actually—” I pause, allowing childhood memories to sharpen in my mind. “You did that. Taking my friend. In such a brutal way. At the funeral, I asked my mother how God could allow something so awful to happen to Hoyt. Spoiler alert—her answer didn’t satisfy me.”