As far as I was concerned, it was all now in my past.
My plan had been to sort out my mother’s house, do it up and sell it. But the more junk that was removed, the more I began to fall in love with the place. It was a lovely house in a very nice area.
I wondered whether I’d be able to live in a house that my mother had been murdered in.
Yes, I thought I could.
The help from the neighbours had surprised me. More than a few of them had donned rubber gloves and pitched in as they saw me loading up skip after skip. So far I had used 3 skips and it looked as if I’d need a few more before I was through, but I started to look forward to making the house my home.
The killer contacted me as I was hauling a rolled up carpet from the living room out of the house.
“How goes the clean up, Danny?” the killer greeted me, the strange device still disguising his voice.
“Please leave me alone,” I said softly.
“Oh, I intend to. I was ringing to tell you goodbye, and to give you a last piece of advice: Choices can be very dangerous things, Danny. They can affect the next hour, day, month, year, or even the rest of your life. Be very careful in the choices you make from now on.”
I said nothing, feeling that there wasn’t really anything to say.
“Take care, Danny. Hopefully the urge to follow strangers to escape your own problems will die forever with your mother.”
A car started nearby and I turned in amazement. A black car was idling just down the street. It moved forward slowly, a hand waving from the open driver’s side window. The horn tooted twice, a jovial sound that a friend might make after a pleasant catch up at your house before the car drove away.
I ran into the road and watched the killer disappear.
I’ve never heard from him since, and I hope to God I never do again.
This experience has changed me in so many ways. I’m no longer plagued by nightmares regarding my mother. I did see Becky one last time, though not like you think. She was waiting for me after work when I arrived back to my flat. She hadn’t told anyone she was coming to see me, had left her phone at home so Ethan couldn’t contact her. She pleaded with me to listen to her, to try and understand her side of the story. Becky requested that we take a drive upto the viewpoint that night, to talk things over. So, I picked her up at a secret location and took her to the viewpoint. She’s still up there, rotting in the shallow grave I buried her in.
She made the decision to contact me that day instead of leaving me alone: her choice provided me with an opportunity. Her disappearance caused a stir in our town; posters plastered everywhere by her family, regular mentions on the news. Her boyfriend, Ethan, is the main suspect. That was five weeks ago and, upto now, no-one has visited me regarding her disappearance.
Keep this story in mind when you make choices. One day, your choice could be the death of you.
The End
Other titles by Lorraine Taylor―
A Deadly Affair―A Femme Fatale Thriller #1
Stalked Page 17