Slaughter Series

by A. I. Nasser

  He just didn’t want to come out here again.

  Walter had wrestled with the thought of sending one of his deputies out to the house, but had quickly come to the conclusion that this was something he needed to do on his own. The burden of the past needed to be dealt with those who had carried it for this long.

  Walter climbed out of his cruiser and slammed the door shut, hoping that the sound of his arrival would bring out one of the Kriks. Preferably the husband. Walter didn’t think he could handle dealing with the wife again.

  He waited for a few seconds, and when no one came out, he reluctantly made his way toward the house. His eyes quickly glanced at the attic window, and he sighed in relief when he saw nothing there. He couldn’t imagine what he would have done if his stare had been met by someone else’s.

  Walter made his way up the porch stairs, and as he neared the front door, his eye caught movement behind the small side window. He couldn’t recognize which of the couple it had been, frowning in confusion as to why no one had come out to meet him if they knew he was there. He knocked on the door, and instantly stepped back when it swung open, slowly, and stopped an inch or two inside.

  It had been open.

  Walter quickly pulled out his gun, suddenly fearing the worst, silently praying that David Green hadn’t done anything stupid. The stench from inside the house escaped through the small opening, and he felt a sense of déjà vu as he pushed the door all the way open, keeping his gun level in front of him as he slowly stepped inside.

  ***

  The skies began to really pour when Hank locked up the store and raced to his truck, pulling the lapels of his coat up around his neck as the wind took a few blows at him. He climbed into the truck, gunning the engine and turning on the wipers, and looked down the street at June’s store. He recognized Karen Krik’s car parked outside and smiled to himself, happy that the woman had finally found the strength to leave the house.

  She couldn’t have chosen a worse night, though.

  Hank contemplated calling June to see whether or not Karen would be driving her home tonight when he caught sight of the brunette leaving the store. He frowned as he watched her walk into the rain, calm and steady, as if it were only a drizzle. She was also dressed far too lightly for this weather, and when he saw that she was barefoot, red flags popped up everywhere in his mind. He watched her climb into her car and start it, quickly pulling out into Gale Street and driving away. He shifted gears, a voice in the back of his head urging him to hurry, every inch of him certain that something was terribly wrong.

  He jumped out into the rain, the truck’s engine still running, and raced into the store.

  “June!” he called out.

  When no one answered, he began to panic, quickly searching the aisles. When he couldn’t find her, he sped towards the back room, praying that he would find her hunched over her shipments, completely oblivious of his arrival. She usually went into a sort of trance when she worked, and he hoped that was the reason she wasn’t answering.

  He did find her, but not in the storage room.

  June Summers lay motionless in the small hallway leading to the back room, her head at an obscene angle to the rest of her body, her clothes bloody and her eyes wide. He rushed to her, quickly falling to his knees and lifting her into his arms.

  “Oh my God, June!”

  The woman stared past him, her eyes dead and fixed on a point above his head. He could feel the warm blood on his hands as he held her, and tears suddenly erupted from his eyes as comprehension sunk in. He could see the multiple rips in her clothes where she had been stabbed, and he touched each one of them tentatively as if trying to heal them. There were so many.

  Hank quickly pulled his cell phone from his pocket, smearing the screen with June’s blood as he dialed the sheriff’s office, hoping to reach Walter.

  “It’s Hank Pollard,” he stammered when one of the deputies answered. “June’s been murdered. She’s been stabbed to death. My God, she’s…she’s dead! She killed her. June’s dead!”

  Hank dropped his phone, his body shuddering uncontrollably as he pressed June’s body against his, holding her tight as he buried his face in her shoulder.

  ***

  Walter edged down the dark hallway slowly, his gun level, his eyes darting back and forth between the shadows. The sun had set completely, and as he moved into the living room, he reached out for the switch.

  Nothing happened, and Walter almost laughed at his luck.

  He tried the hallway lights, and when the bulbs flickered on and off, immediately giving him a headache, he switched them off again. He made his way down the hall, briefly looking in the bathroom before continuing to the kitchen.

  Something crashed behind him, and he turned around quickly, gun raised, ready to fire. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness, and the stench that was lingering in the air began throwing him off. He needed all his senses, and right now he was working without two of them.

  A second crash came from the living room, and Walter decided the kitchen could wait. He made his way back, stepping into the spacious room, edging between the furniture as he caught sight of the swinging windows, glass littering the floor underneath them. The rain from outside was starting to find its way in, and he had half a mind to go over to the large panes and close them before the water ruined the hardwood floor.

  As he edged back, he heard a door slam on the second floor, his head snapping immediately to the stairs. He glanced around a final time before making his way to the stairwell. Pressing his back against the wall, he started the climb upwards. Another door slammed shut, and Walter quickened his ascent, his mind already drawing scenarios of what he would find. He was one hundred percent certain he would find David Green up there, hiding, having killed the Kriks and trying to escape.

  When Walter reached the second-floor landing, the doors to the rooms were all open, welcoming, and his eyes quickly found the source of the slamming. He slowly stepped towards the attic door, briefly looking into each room as he made his way to his target, the trap door rising open and then slamming shut again. Walter frowned, unable to find a logical explanation to what was happening. Above his head, someone started to run, and the attic door flew open completely.

  Someone was in the attic.

  Walter rushed towards the small ladder, pointing his gun into the darkness beyond, unable to make out anything and cursing himself for forgetting to bring his flashlight along. More running and the sound of a window opening above pushed Walter forward. He forgot all about the flashlight and grabbed onto the rungs, pulling himself upwards quickly in hopes of stopping whoever was up there before they escaped.

  As soon as he was through the latch, Walter jumped to his feet and raised his gun, squinting in the darkness.

  “David, if that’s you, stop!” he called out.

  Only it wasn’t David, and when the figure materialized in front of him, seemingly out of the blue, Walter’ eyes widened in sudden horror. He watched as the face of the woman in front of him shifted in the little amount of light coming in from the attic window. She was smiling at him, a spine-chilling smile he knew well, and when she raced towards him, arms outstretched, her scream piercing in his ears, he froze in terror. She slammed against him, her nails clawing at his eyes as he stepped back from the force and fell through the attic latch.

  Walter Garland fell to the second-floor landing with a crash.

  Chapter 24

  Hank Pollard pulled up to the Victorian and parked right behind Karen Krik’s car, turning off the engine and grabbing his shotgun from the passenger seat.

  He had left June’s store well before the police had arrived, his mind already made up as to what he wanted to do. He had returned to his store, grabbed his shotgun and had rushed towards the Kriks’ house with only one thing on his mind; kill the woman who murdered June.

  He hadn’t bothered trying to call John, hadn’t even tried calling Sheriff Walter Garland on his private phone. All he want
ed to do was find Karen Krik and make her pay for what she did.

  Stepping out into the rain, he stormed towards the house, hands on his gun as he marched up the porch stairs. He was about to kick the door in when something crossed his mind.

  What if she was waiting?

  He remembered the way Karen had looked as she had left June’s store, barefoot and drenched in the rain, a woman in a complete daze. She had been completely oblivious to everything around her, but how sure was he that she hadn’t seen him? What if she knew he’d be following her, was even counting on it? Whatever had made her kill June, whatever sick thoughts were running through her head, there was a chance she might have had it out for him as well.

  Maybe this was her plan. Maybe she was luring him to the house where she had the advantage.

  Hank stepped back from the front door, his mind suddenly clearer as he scanned his surroundings. There wasn’t a single light on anywhere. Karen would be waiting in the darkness, he was sure, and just barging in on her would put him at a disadvantage.

  He needed to find another way in. Somewhere she wouldn’t expect.

  Hank lowered his gun and hurried down the porch stairs, immediately racing around the house towards the back. He knew there was a door there leading into the kitchen. If he was lucky, she would be waiting for him somewhere closer to the front door, counting on his rage to muddle his thoughts and send him barging in where she could jump him.

  That was when he saw the lights coming out of the basement windows.

  ***

  Walter Garland opened his eyes and found himself staring at Karen Krik.

  The woman was sitting a few feet away from him, legs folded under her as she stared at him from on top of the bed. He tried to get up, but quickly realized that he was cuffed to the radiator, unable to move. He reached for his gun with his free hand, and when he couldn’t find it, looked at the brunette as she held it up for him to see.

  She smiled, and Walter could feel his body go completely numb.

  ***

  John Krik’s eyes snapped open as soon as the hands fell on his shoulders.

  He kicked out immediately, half-expecting to see Eva in her dark dress, sneering at him as her hands wrapped around his throat, ready to overload his mind and body with more images and emotions.

  “John, damn it, stop!” he heard a deep voice hiss in the darkness. He recognized that voice.

  “Hank?”

  Hank grabbed onto his legs, pinning them down as he scowled at him. “What are ya’ thinkin’, man?”

  John felt a sudden relief fall over him, and despite his situation, he smiled. “Hank, you have no idea how glad I am to see you!”

  “You sure have a funny way of showin’ it,” Hank said, letting go of his legs as he swiftly started untying him. “Why the hell are ya’ tied up down here?”

  “Karen,” John explained. “She’s gone completely mad. This house, it’s doing something to her.”

  Hank nodded quickly, the frown on his face deep as he finally undid the bounds. John felt the sweet release and started massaging his wrists where the ropes had cut him, letting Hank pull him to his feet and hold him until he found his balance.

  “We need to find Karen,” John said quickly.

  Hank shook his head and reached down, John’s eyes following him as he picked up his shotgun.

  “You need to go, John,” he said.

  John stared at him, eyes wide. “What are you going to do with that?” he asked, gesturing to the gun.

  Hank hesitated, and John instantly understood.

  ***

  Walter Garland rattled the cuffs as he raised a questioning eyebrow towards Karen.

  “What are you doing, Mrs. Krik?” he asked. “Do you know how much trouble you’re getting yourself into?”

  Karen chuckled. “Trouble? Sheriff, I’m just protecting what’s mine.”

  “You’ve cuffed a sheriff to a radiator and have stripped him of his weapon,” Walter said. “That’s a whole hell of wrong right there.”

  Karen cocked her head to one side and pouted. “But you’re trespassing, Sheriff.”

  “The front door was unlocked, and I was worried about you and your husband,” Walter said. “I received a call warning me that David Green might try something stupid. He thinks you killed his daughter.”

  “I did,” Karen said, her smile wide.

  Walter’ eyes widened in surprise, unable to truly comprehend what the woman had just said.

  “Are you admitting to murder, Mrs. Krik?”

  “I am, Sheriff Garland,” Karen nodded, her eyes glinting in the dim light coming through the bedroom window. “You don’t have to worry about her father, though. I killed David long before you came looking for him.”

  For a split second, Walter was reminded of the way Ana Dean had looked at him when he had gone to tell her about her husband’s death. He could see the same look on Karen Krik’s face, the look of complete insanity, a mind lost and replaced with sheer madness. The expression frightened him, and he instantly knew there was no way he was going to get out of this alive. Karen wouldn’t be admitting to all of this if she had any intention of letting him go.

  “The real question is how long it will take your deputies to find out what happened to you,” Karen cut into his thoughts. “Ana tells me that they’re not a very bright bunch.”

  “Ana?” Walter asked, frowning. “Ana Dean?”

  Karen nodded.

  “Ana Dean is dead,” Walter said. “She killed herself almost thirty years ago.”

  “Oh, I know that,” Karen smiled. “Tell me, Sheriff, have you ever heard the expression ‘the walls have ears’? Well, they do, but they can also talk, if you care to listen.”

  Walter shook his head in confusion.

  “They do. Really,” Karen continued, “and the more you listen, the more the voices manifest themselves into lovely people. You see, this house has been good to me. It tells me everything. It told me about John and that whore from next door, and it told me what I had to do to make sure my husband never strayed again. It cares about me.”

  “Mrs. Krik,” Walter said. “Karen. You need to listen to me. This house is not talking. I don’t know what you’re hearing, but you need to listen to me now. You need to take these cuffs off me, and come with me to the station where we can discuss this whole thing in a more civilized manner.”

  “But, if I let you go, you’re going to kill me,” Karen said.

  “Are the voices telling you that?”

  Karen sighed and turned her head to look past him. “See, I told you he wouldn’t believe me.”

  Walter felt the temperature in the room suddenly drop.

  “Who are you talking to, Karen?”

  Karen looked at Walter and nodded towards the bathroom where the lights had suddenly begun to flicker on and off. “Him,” she said simply.

  Walter looked to his left and felt his heart stop as he stared at the open bathroom door, the figure of a man appearing and disappearing with the flickering lights, his eyes bloodshot and his smile as manic as the one on Karen’s face.

  For the first time in a long time, Walter Garland began to pray.

  Chapter 25

  “You can’t!”

  Hank pulled the gun back from John, angrily shoving him back.

  “She killed June,” Hank spat. “I’m not going to let her get away with that.”

  John grabbed Hank by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes, trying his best to find a way to calm the man down.

  “Listen, that is not Karen,” he said. “My wife is not a killer.”

  “I saw her!”

  “I know,” John nodded quickly, squeezing on Hank’s shoulders as he tried to talk some sense into the man. “I watched her kill David Green. She tied me up down here. She did all that. But, that is not my wife!”

  “So why stop me?”

  “Because it’s the house,” John pressed. “The house is the problem, Hank, not Karen.”

&
nbsp; Hank stared as if he were trying to understand quantum mechanics, the look in his eyes clearly suggesting that he thought John was insane.

  “I know this doesn’t make sense, but you have to believe me,” John said. “This house is poisonous. It’s gotten to her somehow. It went for her the moment I pushed it away, and it’s been messing with her since. We need to get her out of the house.”

  “She was out of the house when she killed June,” Hank said. “How will gettin’ her out now be any different?”

  John didn’t know, but he wanted to believe that there was a way to save his wife. Even after all she had done, he needed to believe there was some part of her still there that could be salvaged. She was the mother of his child, the love of his life, and he had to try, even if it meant pulling her out kicking and screaming.

  “There has to be a way.”

  Hank looked at him hard, his eyes angry, his frown deep. He sighed and shook his head, his shoulders dropping as John could see him give up on the idea of murder. At least for now.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Hank asked.

  John quickly scanned the basement, searching for anything that might give him an idea as to how to proceed. When his eyes fell on the pipe he had been tied to just moments before, the plan materialized quickly.

  “How did they say the Green’s house burned down?” he asked.

  Hank smiled.

  ***

  Walter Garland was dying.

  The cold hand around his neck had blocked the air to his lungs completely, and his body was shaking in uncontrollable spasms as he experienced centuries of emotions and pain surge through him. Images flashed before his eyes, quick glimpses of the past, every single event that had ever happened inside the Victorian quickly filling his mind as if he himself had experienced them. In a matter of seconds he had lived through generations of Dean family members as their lives unfolded before him, inside him, tearing at the threads of sanity in his head, his mind unable to cope with the volume of emotion and information rushing in.