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CHAPTER TWELVE
His Mama Bear was home. The killer felt short of breath as he waited for her. What a surprise it would be for her.
"Who's been living inmyhouse?"
He laughed, a breathy laugh, as he imagined her saying that exact question when she walked in. She wouldn't of course. Probably, she wouldn't say anything at all, since she assumed that she would be alone. Right up until the moment when he proved to her that no, she was not alone. What a surprise that moment would be. Its shock value was worthy of any story or fairytale.
A sharp, sudden surprise, but for him, that moment of recognition when he was seen was the one that gave him the deepest possible thrill.
He'd set the scenario for her carefully. From the time she opened the door, she would receive her welcome, but he'd decided that to lead her in, she should at first be almost unaware of the tiny changes and improvements he'd so sneakily made.
There was her car outside, he was waiting for its sound and grinned as he heard it. And there, a sound that although he was familiar with many of the noises in this house, he hadn't heard before. It was the garage door rattling up as she parked.
"Come to me, Mama Bear," he whispered, feeling his breathing quicken.
The garage door rattled down again. She was in.
Now, for the thrilling journey of discovery she would make through the house.
This was to be a pleasant welcome. He wanted to give her a lovely surprise, so that she wouldn't be too frightened. He wanted her to look around and enjoy it, to notice the little things he'd done, even if only subliminally.
As she trod through the entrance hall—he could hear her feet on the tiles even now—she might not notice that he'd added just a few fresh roses to the arrangement on the table. He thought it was wonderful that she was one of those women who enjoyed fresh flowers in their home.
He'd added a few new, pink and white blooms to the bouquet. He, personally, thought he could smell a different fragrance in the hallway, fresher, more intense. Listening carefully, he thought he heard her footsteps pause. Was she smelling it too? He felt like giggling in his glee. Waiting, cross legged on the bed, he hugged himself, rocking back and forth to try and contain his excitement.
He was sure that she'd smelled it. She must have thought to herself, "My, but those flowers are lasting well!"
He squeezed his hands tightly around his own body in delighted glee that he'd been able to give her such a subliminal surprise.
Next, she might look at the antique clock. Feeling a little thrill, he hoped that she might notice that the hands had been repositioned to display the hour of nine, instead of the hour of eight, which it was now. She might think that the clock was faulty, and perhaps she'd try to adjust the hands.
Or, maybe, she might not notice that anything had changed at all.
He strained his ears and guessed that she was going into the kitchen. Here, too, he'd tried to keep the changes minimalistic. Most likely, she'd think that she'd just forgotten to switch off the lights, which were now on, making the place look warm and homely. He'd considered boiling the kettle earlier but had decided against that as it might spook her, and he didn't want her spooked.
He'd rearranged the refrigerator, though, which was now neat and tidy. He'd taken the liberty of throwing out a few items of old food. She didn't keep a very up to date fridge, and he'd tut-tutted at that. You could easily get sick that way. Salmonella poisoning was a real thing.
In fact, he heard the softthunkof the refrigerator and then the clink of ice. She'd poured herself a glass of juice. That was what she'd done.
He waited, listening to her move around the kitchen, the soft clicking of her heels. She was down there, preparing food perhaps. Or making a choice on what to have for dinner. He heard her speaking briefly, but guessed it must have been her just talking to herself.
And then, his eyes widened in pleasure as the soft beat of music began filtering up from downstairs.
She'd turned on music. That was nice of her. She was settling in for a relaxing evening, and he hoped that she'd noticed how he had left the remote controls, organized and aligned, in a neat row on the table. It was the little touches, for sure.
He heard her stir and settle to the task at hand, whatever it might be. She was enjoying her evening. He wondered what she'd think when she realized that all this while, he'd been upstairs, waiting to make sure that this night was the most surprising one of her life, one that concluded in a dramatic ending that might keep a reader hooked, if a reader was following Mama Bear’s tale.
The music continued, but she adjusted the volume downward.
He heard her moving around the house. He heard the clink of ice in the glass again. He heard a cupboard open, then close again. He heard her walking back through the dining room.
He wondered if she'd noticed that he'd straightened all the dining room chairs, and polished the table too. It had been dusty and scuffed. He was quite proud of that. He'd even rearranged the bowl of fruit, removing one of the bruised pears, and making sure that the others were more pleasingly displayed.
This was going to be a night of surprises, he could tell. He grinned, thinking about her surprise when she discovered him.
He had a sudden urge to giggle and squirm with pleasure as he heard the slight creak of the floorboards as she crossed the room toward the door.
She was doing what he'd been waiting for, although he'd been ready to be as patient as he needed to. Finally, she was going to climb the stairs and come into the master bedroom to get out of those restrictive work clothes and slip into something more comfortable.
