Page 53 of All He Takes
He flashed the knife. Her eyes widened.
"W-what are you doing?"
"I just want to get out of here, okay?" he said. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I just want to talk to you."
He opened the door and she tried to pull away, but he held onto her wrist and dragged her out of the bar, into the back alley. He breathed in the night air, and she struggled, but he kept a firm grip on her. Her hair fell into her face and her blue eyes looked up at him with fear.
"Please let me go," she pleaded. "What do you want from me?"
He didn't answer, just dragged her into the alleyway, where they could finally be alone.
Once he had her, he threw her against the wall and held out the knife. Then, with a smile, he pulled out his camera.
"Why don't we start the shoot early this time?"
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Nicky pulled her car up to Harrison Smith's house--an old, farm-style home located on the outskirts of Caledon, Florida. The house loomed on the edge of the dark, empty road, its windows glowing yellow against the night sky. It was surrounded by overgrown grass and trees, with weathered, white paint peeling off its cracked façade. Its chimney sat crooked on the roof, and its wooden shutters hung askew.
It barely looked lived in at all.
"Car's not here," Ken said from the passenger seat, nodding at the driveway.
Nicky's stomach twisted. He was right. And if the car wasn't here, then that could mean Harrison Smith was out hunting his next victim.
"We better check it out anyway, to be sure," Nicky said. The house gave her the creeps, but she needed to be sure Harrison was the right guy, even though she felt in every fiber of her being that he was the killer. But Nicky had been an FBI agent for a long time now, and she knew that sometimes instincts were wrong.
Proof... that was what separated them from the animals.
"Got your gun?" she asked Ken.
"Yep. Let's go."
She turned off the car's engine, and they both climbed out, pulling their guns out of their holsters and heading toward the house.
It was dark as they walked up the driveway. The only light came from the moon, silhouetting the grass and trees around them. The air was warm and still, and there was no sound other than the soft crunch of their shoes on the pebbles.
Nicky's heart was pounding in her chest, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. Her hand shook as she pointed her gun at the front door, trying to steady her breathing.
They were almost at the house when Ken suddenly turned and pointed toward the barn. "I'm going to check it out," he said. "Wait here for me."
Nicky opened her mouth to protest, but Ken was already walking toward the barn. The door was wide open, casting out a rectangle of light into the dark yard. Moments later, Ken came back out and jogged over.
"No sign of the car over there either."
"He might not be home," Nicky said, glancing at the door. "Let's knock anyway."
She banged on the front door of the house--only for it to creak open beneath her fist.
Nicky and Ken exchanged a look.
It was unlocked, as she expected. She pushed on the door and walked in.
The front hall was dimly lit by a dusty chandelier, and Nicky raised her hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the low light. Halfway up the hall, she noticed a doorway leading to the living room.
"Hello? Mr. Smith?" Nicky called out. "It's the FBI. We just want to ask you a few questions."
She heard Ken walking around in the living room, opening up the drapes to let in more light. Nicky walked across the hall and peered in. Ken was standing in front of a large armchair in the center of the room. His posture looked stiff and tense, and he was sweating.
