Chapter Five
Idris
Ihear the crunch of tires on gravel and the roar of an engine before my cameras and alarm system even alert me to someone’s approach—not that whoever it is would know they have triggered it. I hid the sensors underground and the cameras in trees along my entrance and both emergency exits.
I made this place a fortress before I even made it a home.
I’m awake and alert in a moment. Barefoot and wearing jeans, I tuck a gun into the back of my pants and slip two knives in my pockets, but when the loud knock comes at the door and I look at the camera, I sigh and sag. The adrenaline fades, but only slightly, because I can never be too careful.
It’s the police.
I open the door and stare down at the two short, uniformed men, wondering what they want. They can’t know who or what I am, and technically, I’m not even alive. I’m a ghost under a false name, and they would only ever even start to learn what a monster I am if they possessed a level five clearance.
No, this is something else. But what?
I keep the door partially closed and my hand on my gun—another fucking force of habit. I guess Donald was right—you can run, you can hide, but you can never take the training out of a soldier.
A spy.
An assassin.
“Yes?” I ask as politely as I can.
They fidget nervously, sharing a look before the one on the left, the older one, clears his throat and steps forward, trying to look serious and menacing even as I tower over him. Right now, my computers are bringing up everything on these men and informing me of anything I need to know. I’ve dealt with warlords, kings, spies, and assassins. Two local cops don’t even make me blink.
“We need to ask you some questions.”
“Why?” I growl.
They share another look, annoying me. I wish they would just get on with it. Can’t they tell I want to be left alone?
“A local woman has gone missing, and you were the last person to be seen with her,” he blurts out.
I jolt at that, narrowing my eyes on him. “Who?” I question, even though I know.
“Miss Bessie,” he begins, and I see red.
Bessie is missing?
“Tell me everything,” I demand.
“Erm, sir, this is an active investigation, but if you could answer our questions,” he hedges nervously.
“I walked her home. She went inside at 8:05pm. I haven’t seen her since. I have security cameras here, which register my comings and goings, and no, I will not give you the tape unless you have a warrant, as I’m not a suspect. Now tell me what happened to her,” I snarl, giving up the pretence of being nice. They swallow and step back, seeing the change.
Seeing the true me.
Boogeyman, the hunter, the killer.
“We don’t know. You’re sure you didn’t see or hear anything?” he queries, and I have to give him a bit of respect for continuing the questioning even though he’s terrified.
“No.”
“Okay, well, if you remember anything at all, you know where we are.” With that, they nod at me and return to their car. I stand in the doorway, watching them quietly retreat. Their tires squeal and gravel sprays from their hurried exit, and a cool calm fills me.
Whoever has taken Bessie is going to regret it.
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