Chapter 2
“Well,” he muttered, “this isn’t getting my work done.” He wasn’t
moving fast enough. Being still gave him too much time to think and
thinking was never a good thing. Busy people don’t have time to dwell.
He looked around the room and grunted, annoyed with himself.
“By the looks of this run down house, I haven't done anything for
years, but dwell,” the man snapped at his reflection. He moved to the
antique claw foot tub and began to tighten the handles. He turned the
hidden bolts until the steady drip onto the porcelain stopped. There was
no more good he could do here, short of lowering himself to actually
cleaning, so he moved to the door.
Once out into the hall, the man frowned at the thick cobwebs that
stuck to the molding and hung spookily from the crystal chandelier. The
filthy green and gold rugs begged to be vacuumed and the hard wood
floor was almost white with dust and neglect. “This house is gross.”
Sunlight struggled to shine on his face from the large dirty window.
He stomped down the hall sending dirt and dust flying as he moved
toward the staircase. “It’s definitely beyond time to hire a cleaning
service,” he murmured. Before the man even had time to complete the
thought, he was already on his way to the kitchen after the phone.
His huge feet moved noiselessly down the carpeted staircase and
past the dust coated claw foot table. He crossed the foyer without a
sound and noted the many cobwebs collecting flies in the arched hall. He
turned the corner sharply and emerged in the great farm style kitchen. He
was already reaching for the cordless phone on the counter when he
suddenly stopped.
Shayne had her back to the arched kitchen entry. She was looking
out the back door at the over grown garden, when she first heard him.
She froze, not sure if she should turn to face the stranger who had
invaded her house or whether to simply run for it. Her body throbbed as
she trembled with indecision. Her mind scrambling against the thick fog
she had yet to shake. Her eyes darted from the door to the nearest
counter in search of a weapon. She remained frozen; not even turning her
head as she quickly began to formulate a plan.
The man’s outstretched arm snapped back to his side tightly as his
eyes narrowed on the woman. He watched and saw her body tense. Her
long red hair blew slightly in the breeze of the open window. Her skirt
still gently swayed from her last movements before her deer-in-the-
headlights-maneuver. She was tall and distinctly female, with a certain
grace even frozen.
He watched her with nervous eyes while calculating any danger.
Though her dress was ugly and old fashioned it was in good repair
except for the dust. Her hair was wild but clean and her scent was too
fresh for her to have been simply a homeless person searching for a
meal. She must be a thief, he thought. He opened his mouth and gruffly spoke as she whirled around like a
mad cat and yelled.
“What are you doing in my house!” both voices screamed in unison.
Her voice sounded scared and his was an angry snarl.
The woman froze again, her eyes searching his face earnestly. She
knew his eyes instantly. The face was wrong, older and resentful. She
snapped her jaw tightly and stared at his frown. There were too many
lines around his eyes, and wrinkles around his jaw. He was taller than
she remembered him, and heavier too. His muscles had filled out and his
hair was somewhat darker. He had a dangerous look to him now. His
face was sort of wrong but at the same time right. But his eyes were the
same, the same gentle brown eyes she had loved since the second grade.
“Jeffrey?” she asked confused.
The man’s mouth fell open and snapped closed several times as his
eyes widened. He blinked hard and looked again at his attacker. His eyes
traced her face to her rosebud mouth and down her graceful throat. They
snapped back to her curls and glared back into her eyes.
“Jeffrey?” she asked again. “It’s me... Shayne.”
He blinked and shook his head roughly, as if trying to blur her
image. He squinted again as the room began to tilt and the floor started
to move. His eyes rolled back into his head as his brain processed the
woman. The floor rushed upward to his face. The last thing Jeffrey saw,
as his eyes unfocused and he crashed into the ceramic tiled floor, was the
one thing he knew he couldn’t be seeing. He had been peering into the
confused and terrified face of a dead girl.