Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

“Still alive…” Colin pushed past the onlookers and rushed over to check the man’s pulse, “But beyond saving…”

Robin punched in 911.

Dexter was visibly shaken by the gruesome scene, instinctively stepping back a few paces.

The others ran outside, likely losing their lunch, and the scene was all but trashed,

“He timed this guy’s death to the minute…” Colin crouched by the body, his voice edged with panic. “He knew when we’d arrive, when we’d find him. He wanted us to watch this man die…”

Just like what happened to Phoebe.

Numbly, I stepped forward to look at the corpse. “It’s the husband of the orphanage’s director.”

I had seen this man in Colin’s photographs.

“To stuff a big, middle–aged man into a shoe cabinet…” Robin spoke in a grave tone. “The murderer has to be an adult, someone strong.”

That would be the only way to move the body, to stuff a man not yet fully dead into such a small

space.

“Maybe he crawled in there himself.” Colin pointed at the footprints, now smudged beyond recognition by Dexter and his crew. “There’s only one set of prints.”

“And one more terrifying thing: the murderer doesn’t leave fingerprints, hair, or any clues. Even if caught on camera, facial recognition is useless. Can’t ID him.” The man I’d seen at my house that day had severe burns on his face, a horrific sight, his original features obliterated.

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“This murderer is too clever,” Robin admitted, clearly frustrated by being outwitted by the

murderer.

“Are you out of your mind?” I snapped back to reality, glaring at Dexter. “What the hell are you doing, bringing people here in the dead of night to move furniture?”

Dexter frowned, irked by my question. “These are my wife’s belongings.”

“Cut the crap.” I marched up to him and slapped him across the face. “Have some decency, for God’s sake!”

Dexter gave me a warning look. “I’ve told you, this property is mine now. The ones trespassing are you guys!”

“Dexter, you better have a good explanation for moving furniture at this ungodly hour, or I’ll have every reason to suspect you’ve deliberately tampered with a crime scene.” Robin’s warning was stern.

horrible death, her spirit restless. He told me to burn her familiar furniture before midnight.”

Right, Dexter, Mr. Rational, suddenly superstitious?

I eyed Robin skeptically. “This psychic sounds sketchy.”

It all seemed a bit too convenient.

“Where did you come across this psychic?” Robin probed further.

“I ran into him at the cemetery today,” Dexter said. Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

So Dexter had visited Phoebe’s grave again today.

Now, I was even more suspicious. It must be Dexter, muddying the waters of my fate, making sure I couldn’t rest in peace, even in death.

“Officer Robin!” The paramedics and police had arrived.

But as Colin said, it was too late. Even if Colin had managed to stop the bleeding, the man was beyond saving. He had lost too much blood.

The medical team took Stella away, now unconscious. They said it was just shock and hunger that made her faint, no serious danger to her life. That was a relief.

“Kneeling… Why did he die kneeling inside the shoe cabinet at Phoebe’s front door?” I couldn’t wrap my head around what the murderer was trying to convey.

“Atonement,” Colin murmured. “He’s atoning for something.”

Robin glanced from Colin to me. “He was uncooperative with the investigation before, why the sudden change of heart?”

Up until now, Colin had been resistant, tight–lipped no matter how much the police pressed.

But today, Colin was surprisingly forthcoming.

I paused, realizing the shift in his behavior. Today’s Colin was unusually proactive. Colin’s gaze remained fixed on the deceased as he spoke softly. “Ketamine overdose… hallucinations, poor clotting at the wound. He’d die slowly, without feeling any pain.”