Killer Unleashed

by Beth Prentice

  My thoughts exactly. Admittedly, she looked more crazy than dangerous, but I didn't really want to risk it either way.

  "Women don't get tied up for nothing," I said, taking a step backwards and looking at Isaac.

  "What if it's sexual?"

  We both turned and looked at the woman tied to the chair. She looked about a decade older than my mother, no make-up, wild, grey hair, dressed in sweat pants and an old T-shirt. I thought about Brody with his muscled torso, sexy butt, and beautiful dark eyes, and a shiver ran up my spine.

  "Damn. Why are all the sexy ones gay or seriously messed up?" I sulked.

  The woman continued to make noises and push herself around on the chair, obviously trying to get us to untie her. I was about to pluck up the courage and help, when she rocked the chair from side to side, a deranged look entering her eyes, and her short, frizzy hair almost standing to attention. Without warning the chair rocked so hard to the side that it fell over, and she landed with a bang on the floor. We both heard the smack of her head hitting the ground.

  Silence followed. I heard Isaac's breathing as we both stood too shocked to move. Then I felt Isaac's hand on my back as he shoved me towards the woman.

  "Oh my God! Is she alive?" he squealed, taking a step backward into the hall in an attempt to distance himself.

  I stumbled toward her, looked down, and could already see a black egg had appeared near her temple. I knelt down and used my trembling hands to check her pulse.

  "Yes," I nearly cried. "She just knocked herself out."

  "Thank God."

  "Isaac, I think you should call the police. Then help me get her back up." Laying unconscious she didn't look quite as scary as before, but I knew when she woke up she was going to go ballistic.

  I saw Isaac pull his phone from his pocket, but before he had the chance to press any numbers, we both heard footsteps coming from the front of the house.

  Shit.

  We looked at one another, our eyes locking, then without stopping to find out who was there, Isaac turned and ran for the back door. I wasn't as quick as him though. By the time I got to my feet, I took two steps towards the door, tripped over the woman's legs and fell. Stumbling, I could hear my blood pumping in my ears, nausea rumbling in my stomach. I had no idea what we had found, but I did not want to come face to face with Brody. Seeing what we had just seen, he obviously was not the man I had fantasized him to be, and I wanted no part of it.

  When I heard the back door open, I knew Isaac had made it, and hopefully he wouldn't stop until he was safely across the road, where he could call the police. As I got back up on my feet and ran to catch up with Isaac, trying to be as quiet as possible, I heard footsteps creak on the floorboards in a nearby room. Shit! I didn't stop to look. I didn't want to confront Brody alone or explain what I was doing in his house uninvited.

  My heart pounded as I reached for the door handle to pull it open and run to freedom. But as I saw a shadowy figure step out of the nearby doorway, its arm raised, and felt the pain on the back of my head, the darkness moved in. The last thing I remembered was the smell of Brut filling the air, as the sound of running footsteps faded towards the guestroom.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I felt the pounding in my head before I even opened my eyes. What the hell had I done to earn myself such a headache? I carefully inched one eye open. Light poured in through the small opening I had created, and it was so painful I quickly closed my lid again. I groaned.

  "Hey," I heard a deep male voice say. I had no idea who it belonged to or where I was. I tried to open my eyes again and blinked against the glare of the light. I looked up into the most beautiful face I had ever seen.

  Brody.

  Wow. A girl could get used to that being the first thing she saw upon opening her eyes. But what was he doing there?

  I looked around me and quickly realized I was lying on the floor—and it wasn't the floor in my house. The boards were hard and cold against my back as I tried to move myself into a sitting position, my head pounding as I did so.

  Brody moved closer and reached out to help me sit up. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I just couldn't put my finger on why. I tried to remember the events that lead me there.

  Brody's gentle touch on my arm caused my stomach to flutter, but the uneasiness just wouldn't shift.

  "What happened?" I asked, as I took a good look around me. "Where am I?"

  "You're sitting on the floor in my hallway."

  And then I remembered. I looked at Brody, panic rushing through me, as I pulled away from him. I hadn't seen who'd hit me, but I couldn't have been out for too long, could I?

  "It's alright," he said, concern etched on his face. "I'm going to take you to the lounge. Are you okay to move?" he asked.

  I couldn't answer. Images of the woman tied to the chair, unconscious on the bedroom floor, came rushing to my mind.

  Did Brody do that?

  Before I had a chance to get up and run, Brody scooped me up in his arms. I wanted to run away. I really did, but my bloody hormones had other ideas. With a swoop in my stomach, followed by a barrage of butterflies, it seemed my stomach was having a party all on its own. If only my head felt half as good.

  "Brody, put me down. I can walk," I managed to say, even if it was only half-hearted. The panic from a moment ago had completely disappeared when the smell of his Armani aftershave surrounded me, causing some very inappropriate tingling.

  He responded with a simple raise of his eyebrows. From this angle I could see just how long his lashes were. With his strong arms holding me and the concern in those beautiful eyes, I was having a hard time believing he was the one who had hit me. It didn't make sense, right? Why would he hit me and then help me?

  Gently placing me on the couch, he took a look at the back of my head.

  "Ouch, that's quite an egg you've got there." He sat back and smiled. Tentatively, I reached back and touched it. Yep, he was right. "Did you hit me?" I asked.

  The shock that crossed his face told me he hadn't. "No! I didn't hit you."

  "Someone hit me," I stated.

  "Maybe I should take you to the hospital. I think you knocked your head a bit harder than I originally thought."

  "If it wasn't you, then who was it?"

  "Are you okay?" he asked, leaning forward again and looking in my eyes, reminding me of something a doctor would do.

  "Somebody hit me. How else do you think I got this?" I asked, pointing to the lump on my head.

  "When I got home you were lying on the floor. I have no idea how you got there or what you're even doing in my house."

  "And the woman. Why is she tied up? Are you a pervert?"

  "Okay, that's it. I'm taking you to the doctor."

  "No!" I yelled, standing up. Ooh, that wasn't a smart move. The room swayed slightly in front of me.

  "Listen Chloe, I really think you need medical attention. You're not making any sense."

  "I saw her, Brody. I don't know what you're up to, but I saw her." Tears stung the back of my eyelids.

  "Who?" I could see Brody was getting slightly frustrated with this conversation.

  I turned on my heel and moved toward the guest room where I'd seen the woman. Walking probably wasn't the safest thing for me to be doing at that moment, but it had to be done. I pushed the door open and stepped back so Brody could enter first. He walked in as I crossed my arms over my chest, ready for whatever explanation he would come up with, my heart pounding in my chest again.

  "Chloe, I'm really worried about you." I saw the confusion in Brody's eyes as I took my first look into the room. She was gone. The only thing in there was a chair propped up against the far wall.

  "But she was here," I said, stepping into the room next to Brody. The faint smell of Brut still lingered in the air, confusing my senses as nausea swirled in my stomach again.

  "Come on." Brody gently took my arm and led me out of the room.

  "Where are you taking me?" I st
umbled after him.

  If I could stop the headache for just a minute, I was sure I could work out what had happened. The pounding was getting worse, and no matter how I looked at it, I was beginning to think Brody was right. Maybe I had hit my head too hard. And where was Isaac? This was all his idea, so where was he when I needed him?

  Stumbling down the front path and towards Brody's car, I played out the possible scenarios in my head. If Brody was responsible for the woman being there, he knew I'd seen her. If he was up to something bad, he might want to get rid of me. I considered running home and locking my door, but Brody knew where I lived, and he was much bigger and stronger than I was. I was sure he could run faster too. Also, my nose was telling me someone else had been in that house, and my nose never lied.

  I reluctantly climbed into the ugly, green SUV and really hoped Isaac would follow me.

  We sat in silence as Brody started the vehicle. "Why were you in my house?" he asked as he pulled out into traffic.

  "Isaac lost his cat."

  "So you just break into someone's house? I mean, how did the cat even get in?"

  "The back door was open. Isaac was convinced that Kitty ran inside. We called out, and nobody answered, so he thought he'd quickly go and grab her before she used your house as a toilet." Gee, even I thought that sounded convincing.

  "Did you find her?" asked Brody, suspicion tainting his tone. Obviously I wasn't quite as convincing as I'd thought.

  "No. We found the woman instead."

  "I really don't know what woman you are talking about. I can't remember the last time I had a woman in my house."

  "What, you usually go to theirs, do you?" For some reason my unsettled stomach churned even more with that thought.

  "Something like that," he smiled. Damn him, he had a great smile.

  "Well, this woman was definitely in your house, and she was tied to a chair with her mouth taped. When we walked in she got a bit excited and tipped her chair over, banging her head." I saw the incredulous look on Brody's face. He thought I was delusional. "When we heard footsteps at the front of the house, we ran for the back door. Only, I didn't make it. Someone hit me, and when I woke up you were there." I really hoped Brody wasn't the one to have hit me though.

  "I came home and found you in my hallway. I assumed you were snooping around and fell and banged your head."

  I should have been indignant about the snooping comment, but I think the color of my cheeks would have given me away, so I chose to look out the window instead.

  "What did she look like?"

  "Hmm?" I checked the side mirror to see if Isaac was following.

  "The woman, what did she look like?"

  I thought back to the woman we'd found. "Wild." I saw the smile light up Brody's face. "Not that kind of wild." Brody turned his head to look at me. "I don't know." I thought about her, my head pounding. "She was about a decade older than my mum. Grey, frizzy hair and wearing sweat pants. I wondered if you and she were…you know?"

  I saw the incredulous look on Brody's face and nearly laughed.

  "Sorry, but I'm more of a redhead kind of guy," he responded. My heart missed a beat. "Just so you know—Isaac is two cars behind." Brody gestured towards the rear of the car. "So tell me, if I was the bad guy and taking you somewhere to dispose of you, what exactly is Isaac going to do to stop me?" he asked, humor causing the corners of his mouth to turn up. I thought about this for a moment.

  "He could sit on you. He has a good fifty pounds on you, you know." The thought of Brody being squashed by Isaac brought a smile to my face. "Where are we going then?"

  "I told you, the hospital. I really believe you have a concussion. Why else would you be telling me stories of a strange woman in my house?"

  Honestly, I had no idea what was going on, but I was beginning to think Brody didn't either. "And by the way, if you ever want a tour of my house, all you have to do is ask." He smiled. I gave Brody credit. He was taking this situation a whole lot better than I would have.

  * * *

  It took several hours, but later that night we walked out of the hospital with one confirmed concussion and one full-blown panic attack. They'd prescribed codeine and a good night's sleep for me, and Isaac had his panic attack to thank for the Xanax with three repeats on the prescription.

  Brody drove me home in silence. I knew he'd want a proper explanation about what happened today, and so did I. I only hoped that once I'd had a sensible conversation with Isaac—including an explanation of why he hadn't called the police—I would be able to make sense of what had actually happened. Until then, sleep would be my friend.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It took two days, but finally my headache cleared. Isaac had made himself pretty scarce. I'd sent him a few messages to call me, and I knew he would when he was ready. I think he might have been a bit embarrassed about his panic attack.

  The morning dawned bright and sunny, so I decided to use the beautiful weather and take Theo for a walk to the park before it got too hot. However first I needed to pop to the corner shop and get some milk for my morning coffee.

  The corner shop wasn't called a convenience store for nothing. It was actually very conveniently located at the end of the street, and it stocked everything you could possibly need to avoid going to the supermarket. The only downside was the owner. Mr. Grumpy—I mean Mr. Wilks—lived up to his nickname. Often. And he was the reason the supermarket was doing such good business in our area. But this morning I was far too lazy to drive there, so I put my biggest smile on my face and walked the few minutes down the road. The buzzer sounded as I walked through the door, alerting him to my presence.

  "Good morning, Mr. Wilks," I said as I walked past him to the refrigerators on the back wall, noting the usual grey pants and white dress shirt buttoned to the collar and detecting the faint aroma of charity shop.

  "Morning," he said, hurriedly moving the books he had spread over the counter. In his hurry, a newspaper clipping floated to the floor. Oblivious to it, he looked at me and bared his false teeth in what I think was his version of a smile. Stepping up to the counter, I placed my milk on it and bent down to retrieve the clipping.

  "You missed one," I said, looking at the clipping and reading the headline, Millionaire murdered for stamps?, before handing it back to him. "Are you doing some research?" I asked, trying to be the friendly customer.

  "No," he said as he snatched the clipping out of my hand and pushed it into his trouser pocket. "Don't know what you're referring to."

  I sighed. He really was a strange one.

  "I heard you had a mishap in Betty's old house," he mumbled.

  "Oh, um, yes. How did you hear about that?" I asked, surprised. Actually, I don't know why I was surprised. The gossip mill around here worked overtime.

  "Don't matter how I heard. I just did. Did you find anything unusual?"

  Suspicion crept up my spine. "Why would you ask that?" I replied, thinking Isaac had a bloody big mouth. I watched as Mr. Grumpy swished his teeth around, obviously pondering his response.

  "I see things. I hear things," he answered, surprising me.

  "Really? Like what?"

  "Just always thought she was hiding something—that's all."

  "Oh? I thought Betty was a really sweet old lady," I said, and then cringed. I probably should have rephrased the old part considering she was a good decade younger than the man I was speaking to. I watched his eyes narrow.

  "I thought you were smarter than you look. Guess I was wrong." I felt the verbal slap as he snarled his response.

  "What do you mean by that?" I asked, insulted.

  "That old boyfriend of yours knew what I meant. Figured that was why he disappeared," he said, holding out his hand for my money. I placed the correct change in his hand and looked at him. Disappeared?

  "No, Mr. Wilks. Jack didn't disappear. He dumped me with no explanation," I said, the old, familiar lump forming back in my throat.

  "Really?"

 
"Yes. In fact, I heard he's been calling around again. Don't know why, but I really hope he changes his mind and stays away."

  "Well, doesn't matter now—does it? Betty's gone."

  I looked at him perplexed. "I really don't think Betty was up to anything, Mr. Wilks. I just think she was a bit lonely."

  "Yeah? Okay," he replied, and looked at me like I was the crazy one. "Have a good day now, won't you."

  Now I probably should have stood there and demanded an explanation as to why he thought Betty was up to something, and in hindsight that would have been a good thing to do. But hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn't it?

  Instead, I picked up my milk and walked back to my house, knowing that Mr. Wilks' words would stay with me all day.

  I opened my front door, and Theo ran to greet me, dragging his leash behind him. I smiled. That's how you get what you want, I thought, picking it up and placing it on the sideboard that sat near my door.

  "Sorry, little man. I need my coffee first."

  I'd like to say Theo waited patiently, but he didn't. He jumped up at my leg and ran down the hall to the sideboard, his way of telling me to get his leash. After about five minutes of his running back and forth, I gave up and clipped his leash to his collar. He got so excited he had a little accident on the floor inside the door.

  It was usually a five minute walk to the dog park, but waiting as Theo lifted his hind leg on every lamppost and bush we passed, it took us closer to fifteen. I was actually a bit concerned he might pass out from dehydration before we got there and vowed to bring a bottle of water with me next time. He seemed perfectly happy though as he strutted along, tail held high, thinking he was a king. I opened the gate to the park, unclipped his leash, and let him run with all the other dogs. I watched with pride as just about everyone commented on what a gorgeous little boy he was. Well, that was until he decided he should roll in the largest, most disgusting lump of excrement I'd ever seen. I didn't know what this particular pile of steaming crap had actually come out of, but I did know it smelled revolting. Clipping his leash back onto his collar, I held my hand over my nose and fought the urge to gag. Walking home, I didn't feel the same sense of pride as I had earlier.