“Whore,” I groan as I rip my hand and the object upwards. There’s too much blood to see exactly what it is, so I spit into my palm and use my glove to wipe it down. Surgical scissors. Fucking surgical scissors. How the fuck did she get them?
Every step I take into the surrounding bushland makes me angrier. I made a mistake, and I never make mistakes. I underestimated Morgan, and this is probably an even bigger fuck-up than the scissors were. She’s always been smart, but I’d never have thought she’d have this type of determination in her. I never thought she’d actually try to kill me. I smile. Impressive.
Where is she? She won’t have traipsed too far with the injuries she has.
Darkness.
Quiet.
Patience.
Invisibility.
Training … these are my weapons. I’ll find Morgan in the dark of the night. I just need to let her come to me, which she will. She’ll run in circles. Her sense of direction has always been poor, and her ability to stay hushed when she’s frightened is not one of her finer qualities.
The howls of dingoes fill the air, and it's my favourite sound. Their need for a kill is predatory. They want fresh meat, and so do I. The direction of their cries is the direction I take. Morgan is bleeding. They’ll smell her, and I will too, as soon as I get close enough.
Come to me, Morgan. Find your death.
I close my eyes and sniff wildly, picturing Morgan laying beneath me with my hands squeezed around her neck, her eyes wide, her breath laboured until she doesn’t breathe at all. I search for the look of horror that will permanently fix her expression until her acceptance of death arrives. I want to watch the life drain from her, and after I’ve succeeded, I will remove her fingertips, her touch erased. She never earned the right to touch another or hold another. She deserved nothing she was given.
Crack. Crunch. Rustle.
“Silly bitch.” The smile lifting my lips speaks of my satisfaction.
There you are, Red. Darkness can’t keep you hidden.
Reid
I’m still in shock. Mum, Dad, Natalie, John, Kylee, and Ronald are all here, and Shirley waits back at the house with the children even after John called to tell her what had transpired.
Maloney stands near the front door, looking toward West who’s only a metre away typing something into his phone. Maloney appears stressed. His stance seems rigid, his eyes narrowed, his chest rising and falling quickly. What’s going on? Do they know she’s dead, or are they worried he’s killing her right now, like I am?
Maloney reaches into his pocket and retrieves his phone, and as he stares at the screen, his free hand reaches for the portable radio attached to his belt. He fiddles his fingers on its side.
“Dispatch, this is RK-681. We have a body. Female. Caucasian. Brunette. We need all units in the area of Yeppen Lagoon to respond. I think we’ve found our missing person.”
My balls launch into the back of my throat. I leap from my chair and barrel towards West. I’ve no idea what I plan to do when I reach him, but punching him in his mouth seems like a fucking good idea. West said Morgan was still alive. He said it was just an act, an empty threat, something to scare me with. It fucking scared me.
West lied.
“RK-681, this is dispatch. We are dispatching CBI, and forensics are already en route. Please hold your position and secure the area.”
“Max, turn your radio off,” West snaps as he glares in his direction.
“Yes, sir. I tried.” Maloney is quick to answer.
I see red. I want West to tell me this isn’t happening; that it’s a mistake.
I lunge towards him.
“Reid. Stop,” West commands with both palms raised and facing outwards.
“Morgan. Is it fucking Morgan?” I scream.
“Let me go to the scene. I need to inspect this for myself.”
“Is it Morgan?” A tortured sound releases from within me. My heart rate increases to the point where I don’t think it will ever beat at a slower pace again. Heat surges through my veins as every thump of my pulse echoes in my ears. “Astin, is it Morgan? You know something; I know you do.”
He stares into my eyes, and I know I don’t want to hear what he will say. I don’t break contact though, and prepare for the worst.
“Reid, I’ve been receiving messages from the officers who have located this body.” He pauses. “The outfit she’s wearing is the same one Morgan had on the day she disappeared.” He breaks eye contact and drops his head.
He killed my fucking wife.
Morgan is gone.
I can’t breathe.
My knees hit the floor before my hands do, and my back arches as I curl into myself. “No. No. No!” I scream. “Noooooooo!” I suck back a needy mouthful of air. “He killed her. He killed my wife.”
I won’t survive this. The kids won’t survive this. He took everything from me just as he promised.
Morgan is dead.