Page 18 of Sinister Legacy
Ascending the front steps, I watch my Chucks step on each one. I feel like I’m seeing myself from a distance. Like this is happening to someone else.
And not me.
But then the door opens, and a police officer greets me.
“Miss Hill, mind stepping inside for a moment?”
I walk past him, careful not to let my shoulder brush his chest, and enter the hallway. After toeing off my shoes, I make my way to the living room with the officer close on my heels.
My mom is seated on the sectional with my stepdad. One officer stands by the window, and a second officer is seated on the armchair.
As I enter the room, he stands up. “Miss Hill, why don’t you take a seat.”
I watch him carefully as I walk to the couch. My mom grips my hand when I lower myself down.
“I’m Officer Wells, and I am in charge of this investigation. We have already informed your mother, but she wanted you to hear this from us.”
“Okay?” I respond, my voice barely audible above the thudding of my heart in my ears.
“The girl who was murdered last night was killed in the same way Jimmy killed his first victim.”
I stop breathing. Images of a torso with all four limbs chopped off flick through my mind too fast for me to stop them. I never saw the pictures, but my brain is good at conjuring up its own imagery.
“Now, there’s no reason to believe we have a serial killer on our hands. It could have been an isolated incident. But regardless, we want to station officers outside your house as a precaution.”
His words go in one ear and out the other. I can’t focus on anything besides the fear Jessica must have felt as the killer chased her down and slaughtered her like livestock.
And for what?
To copy my father?
“What are we dealing with here? A copycat?” I ask, looking between them all.
They exchange glances.
“As I said, we have every reason to believe this was an isolated incident. But if it’s not, it’s safe to assume the next attack will follow the same pattern and method your father used.”
“He killed his next victim in a public bathroom,” I whisper. “Sliced her throat before mutilating her vagina.”
I feel sick.
“There’s no need to panic. You will have two officers stationed outside your house at all times.”
“What about when she’s at school?” my mother asks. “Will someone shadow her then?”
“No,” I blurt. “I can’t live my life hiding away from some psycho. What makes you think he’s even interested in me?”
The officers exchange another glance, and then the man on the couch clears his throat before rising to his feet and holding out a manila envelope.
“These photographs were found at the crime scene.”
I stare up at him, unsure if I want to see whatever horror awaits me, then reach for the envelope. Holding my breath, I slide it open with my finger and peek inside. It’s a lot of fucking photographs. “I don’t think I can look at them,” I reply shakily. “It makes it all real.”
“Take your time.”
With my heart in my throat, I tip one out.
It’s a photograph of me leaving school, jogging down the front steps.
