Page 32 of Corrupting Ivy

“I want to know where you put his foot?” I sat back in my chair but kept my fingers on the end of the knife.

The minor detail. The one that made little sense, unless a scavenger somehow dug up Doug and ate only his foot. It was unlikely. It had to be her.

She shifted in her seat as she rubbed her palms together. Shaking her head with vigor, she lunged for the knife. She was quick. But my hand claimed the handle before she could reach me.

I stood, raising the knife above my head, and shoved her to the side. Her body skid across the dirty floor, slamming her back into the recliner. “That was stupid.”

She heaved herself off the floor and rushed at me again. I side-stepped and shoved her again, her body rolling across the floor.

I could use the knife. My body craved it. It would be so easy to shove this hunting knife straight into the back of her skull, severing the spinal cord, and watch her flop around until her brain realized it was dead—over. But there was still the issue with the missing foot.

As I understood it, they were on a cold trail, leading them to nowhere. They’d wonder what really happened to Mr. Douglas G. Randall, but after lack of evidence, it’d go into storage, labeling it a Cold Case. But if anyone found that foot in or around this property… it would force me to take drastic measures and no one wanted that.

“One last time. Where is the foot?”

She murmured as she rocked on the floor, then stood again and charged. I flung the knife at the table, the tip sticking in the wood like a dartboard. Grabbing her opposite arm as she came close, I spun her back to my chest and wrapped my arm around her neck in a chokehold. “Sleep tight,” I whispered into her ear as I flexed my bicep, cutting off the blood flow on both sides of her neck. She sagged against me, her arms flopping to her sides, her knees giving out.

I dropped her on the floor, her head hitting the ground with a crack. I stepped over her limp frame and sheathed the knife.

Why did it always need to be the hard way with her?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I took one more look at the crumpled woman, then peeked out the curtained window.

A man stood at the door, wearing a bright green polo shirt tucked into his blue jeans with a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other.

I opened the door and slipped out, hoping he didn’t catch a view of the chaos contained within these paper-thin walls.

“Hi, are you Spence? I’ve got your truck delivery.”

Afraid? Rarely.

Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.

Even whenhebeat me, I wasn’t afraid. But this… this had me paralyzed.

I stared out into the darkening sky from the top of my staircase, unwilling to lock the door. What if I saw movement and needed to run inside? I’ve seen a few of those horror movies. You fumble with your keys while the villain rushes you, you drop your keys to the ground, and that’s the only piece of evidence that you were ever there as he takes you away to never be seen or heard from again.

It took me several tries to stick my key in the deadbolt. I shook out my shaking hands, then tried again until I heard the bolt snick into place. Taking a deep breath, I clutched at the knot in my stomach and started my descent down the stairs, away from my apartment.

Crickets rubbed their leathery wings together, creating a cacophony of mating calls all around me—at least,theywere getting some action.

I forced myself to take another step until I hit the sidewalk at the bottom. It’s amazing how I suddenly felt so small as I came down from my tower to become equal with the buildings.

There wasn’t a single soul on these streets, which was odd, considering the small rundown movie theater had what they called a ‘midnight screening’ tonight, even though it’s not held at midnight. Maybe everyone was at home holding their family a little tighter after what happened today.

It was at this moment I thanked my brain for the ‘compartmentalization’ as Otis put it.

An eerie chill crept up my spine and wrapped around the back of my neck, causing my hairs to stand on end.

My heart stopped.

Footsteps echoed off in the distance from behind me, picking up speed and gaining on me. They were coming towards me, and I didn’t even have a weapon. Why didn’t I bring a steak knife from home at least? Or use my bat as a walking cane?

I kept moving. Do I look back and let them know I see them? Or do I pretend they don’t exist and they’ll go away?

Since when does that ever work?