Page 78 of Killing Me Softly

His muscles coiled, breaths short and sharp. And he dropped the phone as he curled forward, bracing against his knees, vision swimming. Kenny was saying something, Jack was moving, but it was all white noise. A meaningless blur. And it was all his fault.

My fault. My fault. My fault.

Something inside himsnapped.

A raw, desperate sound tore from his throat, halfway between a gasp and a scream.

Then, before anyone could stop him, he bolted.

“Aaron!”

Aaron lurched forward, tearing through the living room, shoving past furniture blurring in his peripheral vision and he fumbled for the door, yanking it open so hard it slammed against the wall. Then he ran. Out of the house. Barefooted. He wasn’t sure what he was running to. Or from. He just needed toknow. Had tosee. The same need for Kenny to pry open his past, to rip the memories from the shadows, forcing him forward.

Because hehatedbeing in the dark.

Not now he’d seen the light.

Nothing but adrenaline and dread propelling him, his lungs burned, vision swam, feet cut on stones and gravel, but all he could hear was her voice, taunting, and the unshakable certainty that if he didn’t get to Taylor now, he might never get another chance.

So he ran.

Tearing through the woodlands, branches lashing his face, toes scraping on tree roots, the damp earth swallowing his pounding footsteps, he forced onward. The river gleamed beside him, the rush of water drowned by the roar of blood in his ears. He barely registered the streets when he hit the tarmac, barely noticed the blurring of houses, streetlights glimmering overhead like dying stars.

Blue flashing lights stopped him. The chaos of emergency response. Gasping, he hunched over, hands braced on his knees, but no breath came. Only the dizzying wave of dread slamming into him at the sight of the crime scene unfolding before him.

Taylor’s tiny mid terrace student house was surrounded. A forensic tent erected just beyond the open doorway, evidence markers glinting under halogen floodlights. Figures in white Tyvek suits moved in and out like phantoms, their gloved hands carrying bags. Clear, labelled, filled with pieces of what had happened inside.

Aaron forced himself forward.

Blue and white police tape stopped him, screamingDo Not Cross.

He went under anyway. Or tried.

A uniformed officer blocked him before he could sneak through, hand firm on Aaron’s chest. “Step back, son. You can’t be here.”

“I have to—” His voice cracked. “I know him. Taylor. What happened? Where is he?”

“I need you to move back.”

A car screeched to a halt behind him, tyres skidding on wet tarmac. The doors burst open, and Kenny and Jack launched out, Jack moving fast, flashing his ID as he shoved past the barricade.

“Sir.” The officer snapped to attention.

“Get me in a suit.Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And keepthemout.” Jack jerked a finger at Aaron and Kenny.

Aaron lurched forward before he even processed the words. “No!”Desperate, feral, he tried to shove past, but Kenny grabbed him, arms around him, locking tight, urging him back. “Let me in! Let me see what she did!”

Kenny held firm. “Aaron, baby, stop. You don’t want to see it.”

Aaron thrashed. “I do! What did shedo? What did she fucking do!” His voice cracked, unrecognisable even to himself.

The forensics team kept moving, detached, efficient, carrying out their duties while Aaron disintegrated in the street. He saw a blood-slicked evidence bag. The unmistakable weight of something covered being carried out on a stretcher.

Aaron yelled.

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