4 / The Search

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Cassidy had seen enough horror films to know that, when writing appeared on a window or mirror, there was usually a serial killer hiding somewhere.

Serial killers were real, but Cass doubted they really wrote a message to announce their presence. If that really happened, surely the intended victim would just get the hell out? Calmly, he laid his clothes back on the bed and went to inspect the writing. He did, briefly, wonder if he'd imagined it. Had the quiet house and his solitude seeped into the back of his mind to give him some imagined, and macabre, company? He wasn't prone to such thoughts, but he wasn't entirely himself, he supposed.

But no, the writing was there. When he touched it, there was residue on his finger. He sniffed it. It was slightly perfumy and had a thick consistency. Lipstick? Possibly. He didn't wear it, so had limited experience.

His heart was thumping harder than usual, but only from the thrill of not really knowing the culprit. There was no fear, because there was nothing to be afraid of. The obvious place for someone to hide was inside the wardrobe. Rather than pull the door open quickly, he gently knocked on it.

"Elise? You should have called first."

There was no answer and, of course, he didn't expect one. If he was the one playing the prank, he'd remain silent, too. It might not be his ex-girlfriend. Why would she even think of doing anything like this? They'd parted ways, and it had been far from amicable. He didn't think she would attempt a reconciliation. He hoped she wouldn't.

OK, here we go.

He took hold of the handle and, just as he would any other time, opened the wardrobe.

It was empty.

Oh... OK. Not there then.

The trespasser must have moved swiftly as well as silently. His back was only turned for a few seconds. They must be elsewhere in his house. Steps seven and nine hadn't creaked, so they must still be upstairs.

Although, how did they mount the stairs and not disturb those vocal steps in the first place?

Cassidy ran his finger over one edge of 'Hello's' last letter. He was sure it was lipstick. It implied a female offender, so that pointed to Elise. Perhaps she really was trying to get him back. It was an odd way to go about it. It intrigued him, though not interested in anything she might say.

He moved to the landing and stood listening. The area wasn't very big, but had space for a chair and Yucca plant. Both had come from the conservatory at what was now Elise's house. It wasn't until he'd arranged all his furniture that he realised there was nowhere for either item to go. He didn't think he'd be stuck for space for what little he had, but it appeared he was wrong. There was no real reason for him to have a seat on the landing. There weren't enough steps to tire him out to the extent he'd need to sit before going into his room or the bathroom. It would do for now and was a shame to get rid of them when they were in good condition.

Apart from his own subdued breathing and the hiss and rattle of hot water moving through the pipes, He could hear nothing. They were keeping very still.

Cass smiled. He couldn't help enjoying this hunt. Whether it was Elise or not, someone was playing a game with him. It had been a while. Hmmm... Games. He wasn't aware of many children in his street, at least in the vicinity of his address. Had one decided to come welcome him to the neighbourhood? He was always forgetting to lock the front door when he wasn't downstairs, so it would be easy to get in. If the child was familiar with the house, they would probably know about seven and nine.

It was making more sense. Well, he liked to play too. He liked kids, though he didn't have any himself. At get-togethers with friends or family, he'd been known to clown about to bring a smile to a little one and knew about modern gaming so could keep up with older ones. It was, he thought, a good way to meet the neighbours.

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