Chapter 44 Chapter 44 Visit Her
Luke’s POV
I arrived at her address and stepped out of my car, the soft click of the door echoing in the quiet suburban neighborhood. The air was still, almost suffocating in its silence. Not a single car drove by, and only the occasional rustle of leaves broke the monotony. Perfect. No witnesses, no distractions. I adjusted my coat, slipping my fake badge into my hand, and walked up to her door.
I knocked, my knuckles rapping sharply against the wood.
It took a moment, but the door swung open, revealing her. Her eyes, framed by dark lashes, locked onto me with a mix of annoyance and curiosity.
“How can I help you?” she asked, her tone curt.
“Detective Moscow,” I said, flashing the fake badge that did not even carry my name. But I know she didn't pay attention to it. “I have some questions about Roy’s murder.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. Then she rolled her eyes. “Look, Detective, I know Roy is dead, but I didn’t kill him.” Her voice was sharp, indifferent, as though she were discussing the weather and not a man’s death.
I tilted my head, studying her. “Doesn’t seem like you didn’t,” I said, pushing past her into the house.
She huffed in protest but didn’t try to stop me. Rookie mistake.
Her living room was a mess, and not in the way you’d expect. The atmosphere felt... wrong. Her polished appearance clashed with the chaos around her. The clutter wasn’t random; it was deliberate. In the corner, a shiny new knife gleamed under the dim light, next to a bottle of bleach, three nylon bags, and a pair of oversized rubber gloves.
“Interesting choice of decor,” I said, gesturing toward the items. “Planning a dinner party, or was this your kit for Roy?”
Her eyes flicked to the corner, just for a second, but it was enough. I saw the panic flash across her face.
“I didn’t touch Roy,” she said, her voice faltering.
“Sure,” I said, stepping closer. “But someone else, maybe? Because that setup screams premeditation.”
Her demeanor shifted. She was no longer playing coy. Her eyes hardened, her body tensing like a spring coiled too tight.
“Get out,” she snapped, taking a step back.
I smirked. “Not until we’re done here.”
Before I could say more, she lunged. I barely registered the glint of the knife in her hand before it was coming straight for my stomach.
I sidestepped, grabbing her wrist mid-swing. She snarled, trying to wrench free, but I twisted her arm behind her back and kneed her hard in the gut. She gasped, doubling over as the knife clattered to the floor.
“You stupid bitch,” I growled, yanking her by the hair and slamming her against the wall. “You didn’t kill Roy. I did.”
Her eyes widened, the fight draining from her as my words sank in.
“I’m not a detective,” I continued, my voice cold. “I’m the guy hired to take every one of you out.”
Fear replaced her defiance. She stumbled backward, tripping over a chair.
“No... no...” she whispered, shaking her head.
“Oh, yes,” I said, stalking toward her. “And you just made this a hell of a lot easier.”
She scrambled to her feet, her hands trembling as she reached for the nearest object—a lamp. She swung it wildly, but I caught it mid-arc and ripped it from her grip. With a swift motion, I backhanded her, sending her crashing to the floor.
The room was a mess now, signs of a struggle everywhere. If anyone investigated, it would be impossible to explain away. Not that I cared.
I picked up the knife she’d dropped and loomed over her. She tried to crawl away, but I grabbed her by the ankle, dragging her back.
“You really should’ve not attacked first,” I said, almost pitying her.
Her screams were short-lived. I drove the knife into her stomach twice, then aimed for her heart. The second stab ended it. Her body went limp, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
Blood soaked my suit, but that was the least of my concerns. I stood, wiping the sweat from my brow as I surveyed the damage.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dialed Gabriel.
“You’re gonna pay me more.” I said my voice flat.
“Luke, I already told you, I don’t have more money!” Gabriel’s voice was panicked.
“You better find it,” I snapped. “This got a lot messier than planned. Blood’s everywhere, and I had to do more than I signed up for.”
“What the hell did you do?” he demanded, his voice rising.
“Nothing that doesn’t guarantee the job’s done,” I said, smirking. “Relax, Gabriel. Just get me my money.”
“You idiot,” he hissed. “If you—”
I cut him off. “Save it. You know threats don’t work on me.” I hung up and shoved the phone back in my pocket.
With a sigh, I glanced at the mess around me. Cleanup time.
I grabbed the gloves from her murder kit—how poetic—and slipped them on. Her body went into a nylon bag, tied tightly to contain the mess. Bleach took care of most of the blood, though the stains on the carpet would need more work. As I scrubbed, the doorbell rang, freezing me mid-motion.
I straightened, my ears straining for any sound beyond the door. My grip tightened on the knife as I approached, each step careful and deliberate. Whoever was on the other side had no idea what kind of monster they were about to meet.
Then I walked slowly at the door. "who is it," I said aloud from my end.