Chapter 3

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I make a quick stop at what was my dad's garage, or is, seeing as he's apparently still alive. I punch in the code and the door lifts open, letting me in. I move carefully to the back, not wanting to knock something over in the clutter. The tall gun cabinet stands in front of me. I swipe the key off the shelving unit and open it up, reaching inside and grabbing a handgun, loading it now.
I get back in my car and make the drive up to the cabin. I arrive to see a man chopping wood. From a distance he fits the profile of Kyle. The right height and weight, hair color, build. I pull up next to the cabin and grab the gun out of the glove compartment and stuff it into my purse, just in case.
"Can I help you?" The man asks.
"I'm working on a summer project for school about the Baxter family murders and was hoping to speak to Kyle," I say. "Is that you?"
"No but he is here," he assures me. "Does he know you're coming?"
I shake my head. "I was worried that if I called to set up a time to meet he'd turn it down, and I really need this interview."
"Well, I'm sure he'll be more than willing to talk to you and hopefully catch the person who's doing all this," he smiles.
"I hope so," I grin.
"What kind of a project is this anyway?" He asks.
"I'm taking a class on solving murders and our summer assignment is to look into one today and interview an important person involved in it," I say. "Kyle is one of the few in the family to survive, so he seemed like a pretty good person to choose."
"Neat," he smiles. "Here he comes now. I'll give you two some space."
"Thanks," I smile.
He disappears into the cabin and I turn to face Kyle.
"Do I know you?" He asks me.
"Hello, Kyle," I grin.
"What is this about?" He questions.
"You know what it's about," I nod.
"Who are you?" He asks.
"I'm her daughter," I say.
"Whose daughter?" He groans.
"The woman who's been killing your family members one by one," I say smugly.
He's silent, chewing his lip to keep himself from reacting.
"You know, the woman you killed?" I snarl.
"I didn't kill anybody," he denies.
"Liar!" I spit.
"I didn't," he repeats.
"You were in my house, you took her life, and then did to her what she did to them," I say.
"I didn't," he shrugs. "If you don't want to believe me, fine."
I step closer and closer until he's forced into a corner and I pull the gun out.
"Scream, I dare you," I smirk.
"I didn't kill her," he says. "I swear."
"Then who did," I growl.
"I can't tell you," he says.
"I have a gun that says otherwise," I remind him.
"I can't," he repeats. "You'll never understand."
"Try me," I argue.
"Are you gonna shoot me?" He asks. "Because if not, please put the gun down and we can talk."
I think about it for a moment before deciding to lower the gun but keep him in the corner.
"Talk," I order.
"Your mother is dead?" He asks.
I nod.
"She wasn't supposed to die," he shakes his head. "I was told that she was responsible for the murders so I asked him to talk to her, not to kill her. I wanted an answer but I was afraid that if I went, I'd be next."
"Who did you send?" I ask.
"He made me promise I'd never tell," he says.
"Was it Sam?" I ask.
"I've never heard of a Sam, so no," he responds.
"Then who?" I groan.
"I can't," he denies.
I lift the gun, pressing it to his chest.
"I really think you can," I nod.
"His name is Tom Miller," he frowns.
"It can't be," I say. "Tom Miller is my father."
He nods.
"Give me his contact information," I demand.
"I can't," he shakes his head.
"You say that word a lot for someone who's got a gun pressed to their chest," I snap. "Give me his information, and you walk away with not even a scratch."
He finally gives in and writes down the address and phone number of my father.
"For your sake, I hope this is accurate," I say, leaving Kyle by the cabin and getting in my car.

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