“You almost done?” Lindsay shouted out from the kitchen below. “We’re waiting for you.”
Wyatt passed the guest bedroom and could see the door was open. He hurried into their bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans and T-shirt and ran downstairs.
“I’m sorry I’m late, but something smells great,” he said as he walked into the kitchen. “I made a couple of pizzas,” Lindsay said.
Wyatt eyed his sister, “You were really out of it, Ness. But, then again, I’d also be out of it if I was gallivanting all hours of the night,” Wyatt pulled a humorous expression as he entered the kitchen.
“Whatever,” Ness responded.
They all grabbed a few slices of pizza and moved into the dining room. Wyatt grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack and popped it before pouring three glasses.
“I see that you two are still avid wine drinkers,” Ness remarked. “Damn straight,” Wyatt laughed as they all sat down at the table.
“Are you coming with us tomorrow, Ness?” Wyatt asked.
“No, I’m actually heading back to Chicago to spend some time on campus again.”
“Fair enough, but next week Sunday, you have no choice. All of us—including Dad—are all heading to Grandpa’s cabin for lunch, and you better be there.” Ness saluted,
“Yessir.” Wyatt responded by pulling a face at Ness, “I’m glad that you’re staying with us. It’s about time that you got out of the house.”
Once the pizza slices were finished, the trio went into the kitchen to clean up; once they were done, they said goodnight and went upstairs. Ness walked into her bedroom and closed the door.
Wyatt waited until he and Lindsay were in the room alone before he asked, “Are you sure she’s telling the truth?”
“What do you mean? Why would she lie, Wyatt?” Lindsay responded in a whisper.
“I don’t know. Just a funny feeling that’s all.”
“But, now that you say that, she did seem a bit jumpy when I got here this afternoon,” Lindsay remembered.
“Where was she when you came in?” Wyatt asked.
“She was in the den.” “That’s strange. Why didn’t she just come up here to the guest room? She has been here before,” Wyatt said rhetorically. Lindsay just shrugged.
“Honey, would it be alright if I worked for a little while? There are just a few things I want to wrap up before I come to bed.” “That’s perfect. I’ll run a bubble bath, but if you hurry, maybe you can join me,” Lindsay gave Wyatt a sultry kiss on the cheek. “I definitely won’t be long,” Wyatt responded as he went downstairs and into the den.
Wyatt sat down at the desk and immediately noticed that the picture of Lindsay had been moved. He picked it up and then looked at the dark computer screen.
“Surely not,” he whispered. Wyatt’s suspicions were running high at this point, so he logged onto the desktop and accessed the police database. Although search history isn’t stored, the login history is. After a few mouse clicks, he saw that Wyatt Elliott was logged onto the database at 1:34 P.M. Wyatt leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk as he supported his head with his hands. I’d already left on another call at that time. What are you up to, Ness? Wyatt rubbed his temples as the tension was starting to build.
Wyatt opened the small cabinet beneath the desk and pulled out a small black pouch from the back. He pulled out a small round transmitter and stared at it for a few seconds. I know this is an invasion of privacy, but there’s something going on here, Wyatt pulled out his cellphone and turned the transmitter on. He linked the transmitter to a tracking app on his phone and stood up from the desk. Peering up the stairs to ensure no one was close by, Wyatt quietly opened the front door and stepped outside. He walked to Ness’ car and felt for a good place under the rear bumper. Once he found the right nook, he peeled off the tape on the transmitter to expose the sticky back side of it and he stuck it into the nook. Wyatt quickly walked back to the front door and peered inside. There was no movement upstairs, and he quickly walked back into the den to shut the computer down. Wyatt almost dropped his phone as it started vibrating in his hand. “Wyatt Elliott,” He answered.
“Hey, Wyatt. It’s Robert Wilcox. I’m sorry to be calling you so late, but there’s something that you need to know.”
“Did you find Henry Martin?” Wyatt whispered into the phone. No response.
“Robert?” “Well, sort of . . . what’s left of him, anyway.”
11
Ness hacked at his face until there was only blood and torn flesh remaining, but he wouldn’t stop moving; she continued to slice. She stabbed for his gooey, oozing eyes. Nothing wanted to kill him: he just kept fighting back. She could smell the metal. He growled.
“Why won’t you fucking die?” she screamed and slashed again. He caught her hand, and the broken bottle wouldn’t go further. Ness tried to get out of his grip, but he was too strong—she couldn’t get away. She stood up against his power, but he was relentless. Ness kicked as hard as she could, and he fell back, releasing his grip. She turned and ran with the bloody mess in hot pursuit. Ness looked back over her shoulder and tripped, landing on the hard ground. He roared
