Page 26 of The Butterfly Killer

Marcus rolled his eyes. “I’m Lilianna’s brother. She and her husband went on vacation and they wanted me to look after the house for them.”

He pulled out his set of keys. “I even have keys. Now, excuse me, but I want to get some sleep.”

“Wait a second?—”

The old man came after Marcus, but the jogging man stopped him. He wrapped his arm around the old man’s shoulders and steered him away.

The man grinned at Marcus. “Sorry about him.”

The old man tried to fight the other man off, but the man started talking to the old man to calm him down. Marcus was confused as hell as he watched the two head in the opposite direction the man had been jogging in. He watched them walk away for a minute before he shook his head.

Dealing with people was more frustrating and more work than dealing with serial killers. He almost wished a serial killer was all he had to deal with somedays.

He unlocked the front door with the key Lily had given him years ago. He almost feared she’d changed the locks and he would have to break in. However, his fears were soothed when the door unlocked and he went inside.

It was no surprise Lily had made a good life for herself. She’d married a wealthy man who came from a completely normal and loving family. She had two kids who didn’t know the life she’d come from and didn’t even care to know what it is their mom was running away from.

Marcus wondered if his niece and nephew would ever question about why their mom didn’t have any photos of her family or why she never spoke about where she grew up. But Marcus found that content people didn’t ask questions. They didn’t search for answers.

The house reflected the life Lily had built. It was a two story house with modern flooring and clean walls. The outside said there was money in this family and the inside said they had plenty to spare.

He walked into the living room. The large flat screen TV in front of the L-shaped couch and recliner showed Marcus’s reflection. He imagined Daniel watched Sunday football while the kids were out at their friends’ house. Twins were a handful, but Lily loved them. Marcus didn’t need to hear it to know it.

He moved to the kitchen and through the dining room. Each room made him feel more alienated than the next. Nothing of it resembled anything he was used to. The pictures on the walls were of Lily’s new family—her kids and Daniel.

The ones that made him feel more like shit were the ones of Lily smiling with Daniel’s family. There were pictures of her and Daniel with friends.

She looked happy. She was happy.

And she didn’t need him.

He turned away from the photos. If he looked at them any longer he might actually break down.

The house was warm and cozy. He thought it might seem cold in the house—not family-like. But it was. That made him feel more like an outsider. Unlike the welcoming home he now stood in the center of, his apartment was barely livable. There was trash strewn all on the floors, many take-out containers because he was a horrible cook, and the personal possessions he had were in his wallet.

The picture of him, his sister, and their mom. Nothing else mattered enough to him to have been bought. He didn’t care much about possessions. They all seemed trivial. What did they matter when he died?

He stood in the hallway for a few minutes. He didn’t dare go into any of the bedrooms. That felt like he’d be trespassing. It wasn’t for him to go in there—that wasn’t his right.

He moved back toward the living room and sat on the couch. He pulled out his phone and checked his email. He’d asked Lily to forward the emails she’d received. They were sitting in his mailbox. Three of them.

The headlines were gut-punching. They were vile in a way he didn’t know he could describe to anyone else.

Butterfly Killer…first victim…connection…revival…new killing spree…

The words popped out from the page. His phone beeped as he got a text message.

Unknown Number

we’re safe. Check under the bathroom sink.

Marcus didn’t respond. He put his phone back into his pocket and went to the bathroom.

The magazine was there too. He stared at it for the longest time. He didn’t want to grab it. He didn’t want touch it or even look at it.

He turned his face away, scrunching his eyes closed as he took deep breaths. He pushed against his rising anxiety and grabbed the damn thing. It was a fucking magazine. It wasn’t going to kill him to look at it.

Even still, his gut twisted and it felt like he was going to throw up as he looked at the front cover.

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