It was around five in the afternoon when detective Calson's home number appeared on his cellphone.
He was puzzled for it'd been two hours since he'd talked to his wife. She was the last pesrson he had anticipated to receive
a call from. he picked up the phone, dreaded of what he might hear on the other end.
"Honey, What's going-"
"Cal, I want you to come home. There is a guy approaching our front door." That was all he heard, and the phone went dead.
He kept saying hello for a few seconds, but Mrs Calson was long gone. He grabbed his gun, and headed for the door. If people were
inquiring about his leaving the office so early, he didn't hear them because right now his beloved wife was in the danger, he had to go to his rescue.
His BMW was parked near the exit; it was a gift from his stepfather for finally tieing the knot. They had wrangled back and forth whenever he attended the family meeting.
Although he wasn't part of the family yet, Mrs. Scott had always treated him like one. The husband, Scott renauld. was the toughest one, the most stubborn one of the family.
He claimed he didn't trust Calson until he married his daughter. And the car was his of saying sorry for all the quarrels, all the pain he had caused in his household.
As Calson got closer to the car, he noticed the front tires were flat. Someone was playing with him, but he didn't give much thought. He hopped in a police cruiser, and sped away. He
Arrived at his house a few minutes later; He had taking the I95, so he wouldn't be stuck in the traffic. The door was ajar which was kind of odd, for it was always locked. He drew his gun out of his
holster, and walked up to the stairs. The house was darker than usually. apparently whoever was in the house, had switch off all the lights. His heart was pounding. relaxed, he kept saying to himself.
He called out his wife's name, but heard only the echoe of his own voice. He checked the wardrobes, the bathroms, even the kitchen, yet he found nothing. His eyes were filling with tears now.
It was his fault. How could he leave her all alone in the house and not expect something or some sociopath to visit her. he had too much enemy already. could this be the work of one of them?
He wouldn't say the "K" word, at least not yet. His wife might steal be alive anyway. On top of the tv was a white aquared paper staring at him. It appeared to be an enveloppe with his name written on it.
Ostensibly, the killer had left him a note.
"Hello, detective Calson. Long time no see, huh? I'm sorry, it's just that i've been very busy lately. I know you miss chasing me around, so I figured I'd pay you a little visit.
Oh, as to your wife? She's dead. I didn't mean to do that, but she insisted. She's in your freezer, detective.
I'm looking forward to seeing you again, Calson."
your best friend
Calson dropped the letter, and went to the kitchen. he opened the freezer to find Sarah Calson dismembered, and her fingers were cut and scattered all over. He was crying loudly now.
The tears weren't attributed much to the departed, but to the last sentence of the letter
"I'm looking forward to seeing again, Calson.
That being said, the prick had obviously escaped from prison, and was now after his family.
Tags: