Page 6 of Traithorn

His lips roll back, a glint in his eyes telling me something is wrong. I can’t quite make out what it is.

“I’m not supposed to divulge details with you,” he murmurs. “But this is something I think you should know. It has to do with your parents’ murder.”

My heart picks up its pace, blood rushing in my ears. He knows my parents were murdered—he has no ideaIwas involved in the murders…not with the real culprits behind bars.

“This new body was found with their eyes gouged out and their tongues nailed to the ground beside them. A single letter was carved into its chest, fresh and deep enough to puncture flesh.”

My own blood runs cold, dread seeping deep into my marrow. I wait with bated breath for him to continue.

“‘I’was the letter. The body was found in an alley, the same one your parents died in. Left in the same pose as them, using the same techniques. Same initial. We’re to believe it’s a copycat killer.” He scratches his small scuff. “There’s something else,too; the letter7was carved into the wall.”

A chill suddenly grips my spine, spreading through my veins like frost rapidly evolving. It’s a nightmare I can’t escape.A copycat. I swallow harshly, but my throat is as dry as sandpaper.

It can only mean one thing—it’s a message for me. Someone, somehow, knows about my involvement in their death.

They can’t be back…can they?

I shake away the thought as soon as it comes, knowing they’re locked in and will be for a very long time.

“However, that’s not all,” Casper continues, looking at me with a gaze that would terrify anyone. “A photo of you was found at the crime scene.”

“What?”

“It’s bad. The chief of police thinks it’s connected to you, if not even your doing.”

“But I didn’t have anything to do with that,” I protest. When he merely looks at me with that suspicious glint, I stare at him in disbelief. “You know that, right?”

He stays silent, swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Right, Casper?” I grumble, disbelief evident in my tone.

“Yes, of course, I know that. But there’s no way we can rule it out.”

“What the fuck? I was at the damn cemetery!” I growl.

“Do you have an alibi?”

“You’re un-fucking-believable,” I rise, staring down at him. Adrenaline fuels my insides, turning into anger.

He stands up just as quickly, grabbing my wrist so tightly pain spreads through my bones, and I’m afraid it’ll bruise.

“I’m sorry. You know there’s nothing I can do to rule it out,” he grits out, manipulation swirling in his irises like black charcoal.

I wrench my hand free, the stinging discomfort making mehiss, before hastily exiting the police station as quickly as I came. The swarm of journalists instantly meets me, but I push through them, ignoring any of their stupid questions.

My heart is racing, fear a vivid thing living inside me.

The death is too similar…

The prickling sensation of being watched overwhelms me once again, and I know it’s not from the crowd that’s pushing me for an answer. I look around, but I see no one who could be the reason for my unease. As I’m finally about to settle down in my car, my heart nearly stops.

There, between my windshields, lay the envelope I left back at the cemetery.

Mortem

It’s time for Death

Chapter 3

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