The backdoor slammed shut with a loud bang, startling Cyrie and Kenzo, who were sitting on the couch. They looked up and saw Todd and Abbey burst into the living room, gasping for air. They looked scared and nervous, their faces covered with dirt and sweat. “Abbey thinks someone is lurking outside the house,” Todd said, talking fast. He rubbed his sweaty, dirty hands on his pants; which had blood stains from carrying the corpse.
"I can't just abandon everything here. I need to grab some things and change my clothes. I look like a mess." Cyrie argued.
"We don't have time for that. We have to go right now. When we reach my house, Abbey can share some clothes with you." Todd said, glancing at his girlfriend. "She has some fancy clothes that I got for her. They will fit her better than you anyway."
Abbey felt a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes. She felt hurt by Todd's words, but she couldn't say anything. He was the only one who loved her when she was alone and hopeless. A tear escaped her eye. She quickly lowered her head, hoping that Todd and Cyrie didn't see it.
Cyrie was flooded with anger and disgust as she watched Todd and Abbey. Todd was such a jerk. He had always been a selfish, manipulative liar. How could Abbey let him treat her like that? She deserved better than him. Cyrie wondered if Abbey ever regretted falling for a guy like him. A guy who had dragged her into a life of crime and violence. Cyrie's stomach churned with hunger and anxiety. She needed to eat something. She absentmindedly bit her nails, as if they could fill her empty belly. Kenzo, who was sitting next to her, gave her an odd look. He noticed her face had gone bright red. He wondered what was bothering her.
Randall hid behind a trash can and looked through the window. He felt a wave of relief when he saw Cyrie. She was safe and sound. Nothing terrible had happened to her. Yet. He saw a man and a woman fighting in the corner. They looked like Todd and Abbey. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could tell they were furious. He saw another guy standing beside Cyrie. He whispered something in her ear. She looked worried and nodded. She got up and followed him up the stairs. Randall felt a wave of panic. Something was wrong. Cyrie was in danger. He had to save her.
Abbey snapped at Todd. "If someone did really see us, they must have called the cops by now. We're screwed. How are we gonna get out of this mess? Everything is your fault." She blamed him for their predicament. They had killed two people and had to hide the bodies.
Todd glared at Abbey. "My fault? Nothing is ever my fault. It's yours. You were the one who took care of hiding the corpses. And you did a lousy job. It's possible someone spotted you." He raised his voice with every word. He refused to take any responsibility for their actions. He always shifted the blame to her.
Abbey was frustrated and furious. She couldn't stand Todd anymore. She hated him. She wanted him gone. She snatched the loaded gun from his hand. She pointed it at his chest.
A gunshot shattered the silence of the night. The neighbor next door snapped awake in bed. Fear gripped her as she stared at the ceiling, her ears ringing with the echo of the blast. She sat up quickly, breathing hard, her blood rushing in her ears, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The loud popping noises continued. She heard a woman screech in pain, and then total silence. She didn't know what to do - should she call the police or go see what happened? She thought of Ron, who was her best-paying customer, a regular visitor whenever he had a fight with his girlfriend. He always tipped well for her sensual massages. She reached for her phone on the nightstand and glanced at the clock. It was only four a.m. She groaned, rubbing her temples. She needed more sleep. Her phone buzzed. A text from her husband, a truck driver, popped up. It read, "Be home soon.”
Slipping out of bed, she made her way to the window. The street and the other houses were clearly visible from her vantage point. The neighborhood was quiet, not a soul was outside. However, something was strange. The gunshots had been really loud, yet no one else seemed to hear them.
She raked her fingers through her disheveled hair. Something crawled on her hand. Oh crap, it was lice. She probably got it from her last client. How gross! She hurried to the bathroom and yanked off her flimsy nightgown. Her eyes widened and her lips trembled as worry gripped her. Dark red marks were on her neck and cleavage. Her body stiffened as her mind buzzed with fear. How was she going to hide it from her jealous hubby? After his road trip, he had a strange habit of inspecting and sniffing her body. Her shaky hand opened the shower door, she made a face when it squeaked. She stood bolt upright under piping hot water sprayed from the nozzle. Her skin turned red, but she didn't care. Maybe, she could scrub away the hickeys. It was a crazy thought, but she was desperate, really desperate.
All her plans were ruined. She must tell all her clients, especially Ron. Her hubby was coming home. If he found out about her line of work as a masseuse, all hell would break loose.
She didn't want Ron, her neighbor and client, to come by. Her hubby would go berserk if he caught her with another man in their home. She visualized him grabbing the loaded rifle from under the bed and shooting them one by one. She shuddered and pushed the horrible image out of her mind. She quickly rinsed herself and got out of the shower. She looked like a boiled lobster and the hickeys were still visible. She cursed under her breath.
She rushed back to the bedroom and threw some clothes on. She had to keep Ron away from her home. It was too risky. Her phone vibrated again, another text message from hubby popped up. Be home for lunch. Her heart skipped a beat. She had to warn Ron about her hubby.
She left her house with an unsettling feeling in her gut. She stood on her lawn and scanned her surroundings. She was the only one outside. Everyone was still snuggled in bed. She tried to calm down and think rationally. It was a bad dream. There was no sound of gunshots and Ron didn't have a fight with his girlfriend. She was worried for nothing.
She felt someone grab her leg and poke her with something sharp.
"Don't move," a male voice threatened her.
She felt a chill run through her, and a knot of fear formed in the pit of her stomach.
"Don't look at me. If you cooperate, I won't kill you."
She slapped a hand over her mouth when she felt the pointed object pierce her flesh. Blood trickled down her leg. One false move. Her assailant wouldn't hesitate to stab her in the back.
"My purse is at home. I have nothing to give you," she whimpered with pain.
She paused and took a deep breath. "I can offer you something else. Let me knead and rub every part of your body. I'm a skilled masseuse. You will enjoy every moment of it,” she lowered her voice and added, "But don't get the wrong idea. I don't do it for free. If you let me go, I can give you a good discount for the first week." She waggled her hip suggestively.
For a brief moment, Randall forgot about Cyrie. He just stood there and rubbed his salt and pepper stubble. Lust glittered in his eyes. Every man deserves a good massage. Heat coursed in his veins. He licked his lips and played a bit of pocket pool.
What the hell is he doing? The frightened neighbor wondered, nibbling on her bottom lip.
Randall shook his head, his focus back on Cyrie. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Why did he let the hussy distract him? "I want you to follow my instructions. Go next door. Ask for Cyrie. Stay calm. I don't want you to scare her. Give her this message. Don't worry. He will rescue you.
"Is she in danger?" the frightened neighbor demanded, her voice trembling a little. Her thoughts went back to the gunshots and screaming woman. Something terrible did happen. Was someone seriously injured? She hoped it wasn't Ron, her best client.
Randall poked her in the back, "Get a move on! I'm watching your every move. Don't do anything stupid." He barked and quickly hid behind a hedge.
She shivered as she gazed at Ron's house, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone inside. The curtains were drawn, the lights were off, and the silence was eerie. She forced herself to breathe as she climbed the creaky steps to Ron's porch. Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her neck. She hammered on his front door, praying he would answer. Maybe I can still escape. Maybe I can run back home and scream for help. Maybe someone will hear me and come to my rescue. She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the street for any sign of her aggressor. She was about to give up and flee, when the door swung open.
A handsome young man with jet-black hair greeted her with a smile. It was a cold smile, devoid of any warmth or sincerity. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice smooth and polite.
It wasn't Ron. She felt a surge of disappointment and fear. She tried to act casual, giving him a flirtatious look and twirling a strand of her hair. "I live next door," she said, pointing at her house. "I need someone to help me move my massage table to another room. It's too heavy for me to lift by myself."
"Sorry, ma'am. I'm quite busy." The young man said curtly. He moved to close the door, but she stuck her foot in the gap.
"Wait, I'm looking for, um," she stammered, racking her brain for a name. What was her name again? She peeked over her shoulder. Her assailant was nowhere to be seen. "I'm looking for Sherry?" she blurted out, hoping it sounded convincing.
His eyebrows furrowed. He shook his head, "Sherry? You're at the wrong house. There's no Sherry here."
She felt like an idiot. She had messed up. She had to think fast. "How about Ron? Is he home?" she asked, hoping he would say yes.
He rubbed his forehead, as if he had a headache. He knew Ron, he was the dead guy. Todd had killed him, along with his own mother. He had to get rid of this nosy neighbor before she discovered their secret. "Ron and his girlfriend went on vacation. They will be gone for several weeks. I'm house-sitting for them." He lied, hoping she would buy it.
Her heart leaped. Ron wasn't home. She didn't have to worry about him. The hickeys on her neck were her only problem now. Her husband would never find out about her secret job. She had to get out of here, fast. "I wonder if you heard gunshots and a woman screaming?" she asked him, trying to sound casual.
"It was a movie. Sorry if the volume was too loud." He said, rushing his words. He slammed the door in her face. She stared at the closed door, feeling insulted and angry.
As she turned to walk away, a click sounded behind her. She whirled around and met the cold gaze of another man. He aimed a gun at her through the window, which was cracked open. A wicked smile twisted his lips as he squeezed the trigger.