Her hand went to the back door, locked. No surprise there. She took the small tool kit and went to work on the lock. Easy. It was an old door, and an old door knob and lock system. She put her tools away and carefully opened the door. No alarm sounded, so she moved her NVG’s over her eyes and walked in. The room was greens and black and she found herself in the kitchen. Looking around, she saw a dish drainer, with only one plate. Hoping this was a good sign, she went into the living room. She looked around.
Normal looking, would be. She went into the small hallway. No photos, that was unusual. Most people cluttered their homes with them. There was a closed door, she opened it slowly. Looking, she took note of a bed, made, nightstand. Spare bedroom. Looking to her left, she saw the bathroom. She looked in. She saw one towel. Good.
She looked in another room, another spare bedroom. She was glad the floor had carpeting, it made for stealthier going. Then she came to the master bedroom. The door was open and she saw the man asleep. The room was fairly spartan. She walked up to the bed, and smiled. She put her weapon on the nightstand and pulled her knife.
She readied herself and in a swift motion, she grabbed Donald Emerton’s hair and placed the sharp blade to his neck. He was jerked awake.
“Move and I’ll slit your throat.” She hissed low. She could feel him freeze.
“What..what do you want?” He croaked.
“Where are the children?” She hissed again, keeping her voice low and deep.
“What children? What?” He started and she cut him off.
“Cut the shit. You feel that sting? I just sliced into your neck. This blade is so sharp, it rivals a scalpel. Consider the next words that come out of your mouth. Because you’ll tell me, either in a normal whisper or in an agonizing scream as I peel the skin from your body.”
“Okay, okay. They’re in the cellar, just don’t hurt me. You can have them.”
She laughed low, a sneer sliding across her face.
“Thank you, Donald. You’ve been very helpful.”
With a quick flick of her wrist, she flipped her knife through his carotid artery on the other side of his neck, so she’d not be covered in his blood. She held her hand over his mouth as he tried to scream, turning his face away from her. Her other hand held his chest down, so his struggles wouldn’t sling the blood all over. It didn’t take long until his body stopped thrashing.
Jerking the covers off of the dead man, she jerked his boxer shorts down. She grabbed him by his cock and balls and pulled them up with one hand and drew her knife under and through the tissue. She took the dripping mess and shoved it into his mouth.
She wiped her hand on the bedding, she wasn’t worried about leaving any prints, because she then took that part of the cover and dipped it into the pool of blood by the dead man’s head. It helped to have her hands dipped in the elastic polymer, and she was glad as well, especially touching his junk. She carefully used her unbloodied hand to do this. She wanted to erase her bloody handprint. The police might get a partial, but they would never get any prints, thanks to the polymer solution.
Exiting the room, she went back down the hall and into the kitchen. She looked around and then saw the door. It looked like a pantry door, but there was a latch on the exterior. She unlatched the door and looked down the steps and could see nothing. Carefully, she made her way down the steps. She could hear nothing. When she got down to the bottom, she looked around. Then she saw three cages, like dog cages. Walking over, she looked down.
Inside one cage were two children, curled up together. They were asleep. She thought they looked to be about five or six. The next cage had a girl, she looked to be a tween or young teen. The third cage was empty. She’d not wake the children, she’d let the cops find them as they were. Quietly, she went back upstairs. Looking around, she saw the house wall phone. She held up her phone and pulled up Nobu’s voice app. She recorded her voice and the message she wanted to relay. She picked up the house phone and heard the dial tone. She dialed 911.
“911 Operator, what is your emergency?”
Imani held up her phone and pressed play, “I just killed a man. I cut his neck and cut his shit off. He was a pedophile and he has children in the basement. In cages. I suggest you send the police and pick up the kids and that piece of shit.” Her voice was digitally distorted, so no matter how hard they tried, they’d never get the real voice.
“Who is this? Where are you?” The operator asked, and Imani could hear the agitation in her voice. She let the handset of the house phone dangle to the floor. She relocked the back door on her way out and walked quickly to her car. She got in and started it up. She’d pull back a distance away, and wait and watch.
It didn’t take long, within ten minutes she heard the wail of sirens. Her vantage wasn’t great, but she didn’t want to be that close anyway. She just wanted to make sure the police arrived. She saw two vehicles pull up to
