Page 106 of Sharp Force
“Do you mind if I take a few photographs?” I dig my phone out of a pocket.
He shrugs, and I gently move his teal-tinted blond hair away from his bruised forehead. I take a picture with my phone. The contusion is dark bluish red and recent. He has swelling, what’s commonly referred to as a goose egg.
“Looks like you got a pretty good whack to your head,” I say to him. “Do you know how that happened? Tell me what you remember. Start at the beginning.”
“I woke up hearing screaming,” he says. “I usually sleep in my boxer briefs, and I threw on jeans, a sweatshirt. It was dark. I tried to turn on a light, but nothing worked. I realized there’d been a power outage and I assumed it was because of the storm.”
“How long before you went downstairs?” Benton asks him.
“I’m not sure.” Zain stares down at his hands on top of the covers.
“Maybe you were afraid,” Benton continues from his chair by the bed.
“That would be understandable.” It’s Calvin Willard saying this. “Zain doesn’t have a gun or any means of self-defense.”
“I don’t like guns.” Zain says this to me.
“Well, maybe you will after this,” his uncle foreshadows.
“I asked Robbie what was going on,” Zain tells Benton and me. “But he was offline. He didn’t know. And I stayed with him for a few minutes.”
“Stayed with him where?” Benton asks.
“In the closet.” Zain looks ashamed. “I could hear someone downstairs, and then it got quiet. And my first thought was to check on her.”
He explains that when he crept down the steps it was pitch-dark, and he smelled what he thought was chlorine.
“Which was weird.” He looks up. “When she comes home from swimming, she reeks of it. I didn’t understand why I was smelling it, and when I reached the bottom step, something hit me in my throat. I remember losing my balance, and I fell.”
“Did you land on the carpet or the wooden flooring?” I ask.
“The carpet.” His eyes glint with fear. “I remember hearing him breathing hard, bending close to me. I didn’t move. He kicked me, almost tripping over me, and I didn’t move. Like I said, I played dead. I could hear him taking off something he had on. Maybe something he’d covered his clothing with, and then he was gone.”
“Where did he kick you?” I ask.
“In the head.” He doesn’t blink.
“Did this person say anything?” Benton asks him. “What do you remember about him?”
“No, he didn’t say a word.”
“How do you know it was ahe?” his uncle wants to know.
“I don’t. I just assume it,” Zain answers. “I wouldn’t think a woman would do something… something so cruel. So physically violent.”
“Did you look at her?” Benton asks.
“Of course, I looked at her in case she was still alive, and I couldhelp! I heard the intruder running down the hallway, and when I didn’t hear anything else, I waited for a while, making sure he didn’t come back. Then I got up from the floor,” Zain says.
“Did you realize your throat was cut?” I ask.
“I knew I was badly hurt. My neck was stinging and wet. When I touched it, I could feel my chain was in the cut, and I had to pull it out. I guess the knife hit it.” His voice trembles. “I remember I was shaking all over, bleeding everywhere, and I had my phone with me. I turned on the flashlight and shone it through her doorway. I could see she was dead.”
He’s getting upset, lifting his uninjured arm, wiping tears with the back of his hand.
“And then I saw the ghost!” He’s getting all worked up again. “The figure in black with red eyes and a knife!”
“Saw it where?” Benton is taking notes.
