The dishwasher was sprawled beside the sink. She could only see his legs and feet, but she recognized the rolled-up jeans, bright yellow sneakers, and hem of his too-big Iron Man T-shirt bunched around his thighs. The black ooze splattered his inert form.
Flash, flash, flash. The images bombarded her so fast that she could barely focus on one before moving to another.
Reece stood in the doorway to
the small office that was tucked between the walk-in refrigerator and the far
wall, facing away from her. Through the big window that allowed an unobstructed
view from the desk into the kitchen, she saw a man in front of the opened safe.
“You shot him. You fucking shot
Manny,” Reece shouted.
The man glanced over his
shoulder at Reece, and Roxanne felt all the air leave her lungs. He wore a ski
mask pulled down to hide his features, with black paint rimming his eyes. Only
the whites and the pale blue irises could be seen. He’d sewn the mouth-hole
closed with fat, ugly stitches so that not even his lips showed. He glanced
past Reece to where Roxanne and the others now stood. Reece turned, too, and in
the dread she saw on his face, Roxanne read so much more.
Reece knew this masked man.
More than that, her brother had let him in. Disbelief pierced her as the man
spoke. His words came disembodied from behind the stitched mask and all the
more terrifying for those frigid eyes in their obsidian setting.
Buy THE FIVE DEATHS OF ROXANNE LOVE now:
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