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All he saw was Samara’s face.
Up and down.
Up and down.
Blood was everywhere.
It pooled around him. It splattered him from head to foot.
He knew they were dead, but he couldn’t stop.
Up and down.
Up and down.
Dante was breathing heavily by the time he finally stopped, holding the knife still, poised above the messy pulp of flesh that had at one time been a body. It was done, they were dead, his message was as clear as he could possibly make it.
Dropping the knife on the ground beside the old couple, Dante looked down at himself. He was drenched in blood so couldn’t go walking back to his car like this, he’d be a magnet for the cops.
The couple’s car.
They certainly wouldn’t be needing it.
Flipping the mangled body of the man over, he felt about in his pockets until he found the keys, then pressed the button, and a car a couple of yards down from where they were flashed its lights.
By the time he was driving out of the parking lot, Dante had already forgotten about the couple he had just murdered, instead, he imagined how the rest of the day would play out. The cops would get his message, they would realize that keeping Samara from him was a mistake, and soon the two of them would be together.
*****
3:13 P.M.
“I am not looking forward to telling Fin about this,” Chloe said as she stared down at the bodies before her.
“Probably going to go better than telling Michael,” her partner, Tom Drake, said, his gaze also fixed on the bodies on the ground.
She couldn’t disagree with that.
Her husband was going to be terrified when he found out what was going on, but telling Michael, who they all knew liked Samara as more than just a friend even if he wouldn’t admit it, might really be worse. She hoped that he didn't let his emotions get the best of him. He was Samara’s bodyguard, whether or not she lived through this was in part going to be up to him.
The rest was up to her and Tom.
“He lost it,” she said, “maybe we’ll get lucky and he nicked himself and some of this blood is his.”
There was a lot of blood. This was possibly the messiest, bloodiest crime scene she had ever attended. It was a littledisconcerting. She kept staring at it, it had spread into a large puddle, and for some reason, Chloe kept expecting it to continue to grow until it consumed the parking garage and everything in it.
“If he’s in the system,” Tom said.
Chloe looked at him, surprised. “You don’t think he’s in the system?” It was hard to believe that someone who had done this hadn't committed other crimes in their past.
“No, I don’t.”
“You think this is his first murder?”
“This was a frenzied mess, it looks spur of the moment, he didn't plan it through properly.”
“He had a knife on him,” Chloe reminded her partner.
“He did,” Tom acknowledged. “But did he have a knife on him because he planned to kill this couple, or did he have a knife on him for some other reason?”
