Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection) by Carolyn McCray Page B

man stood in the middle of the room.
    “Police,” Jake announced. “Hands where I can see them.”
    The man’s hands flew to his head as he stood there shaking. Jake patted the man door quickly. No weapons.
    “So did you guys find my landlord?” The guy asked.
    Jake cocked his head. “Landlord?
    The tenant threw a thumb toward a small house beyond the pool. “Yes, I rent the guest house.”
    Jake holstered his weapon. This guy was no threat, except for possibly being a really, really poor judgment in landlords. “When did you report Mr. Woldham missing?”
    The tenant shrugged. “I don’t know. About four months ago. I mean, he travels a lot, for weeks at a time, but when he didn’t show for the rent check, I knew something was wrong.”
    “And did the police investigate?”
    The tenant nodded. “Yeah, a few cops came out, but they just thought he’d gone on a long vacation.”
    “With his car still parked in the driveway.”
    “Mr. Woldham always took a taxi when he left.”
    “What kind?” Jake asked.
    “I don’t know?” the tenant said with a shrug. “A yellow one?”
    Hey, this guy was just full of information. He lived a hundred feet from the guy, but didn’t even know which cab company he used.
    “So it didn’t occur to you to call the police again when he missed another rent check? Or another?” Jake asked. “Or why bother, right? Free rent as long as he is missing.”
    “That’s not a crime, is it?” the tenant asked, squirming a bit.
    “Against, humanity? Yes. Against the law? Not so much.” Jake turned his attention to his phone again. “Brad, did you get all of that?”
    “Yeah, yeah,” Brad said. “But this guy was not leaving town when he’d go off for weeks. He wasn’t laying out that kind of money.”’
    “So he must have been going off to his killing grounds.”
    “Killing grounds?” the tenant asked, his voice cracking. “What do you mean ‘killing grounds?’”
    “Except…” Brad said. “Hold on, hold on, once a year Mr. Woldham was making a single rather large cash payment… Which was due two months ago.”
    Jake headed back to the pile of mail. Maybe the address of that payment was in this pile. “Great. Thanks, Brad, I’ll get back to you.”
    He hung up the phone and started really searching through the pile in front of him. The tenant joined him, but didn’t help, of course.
    “Is Mr. Woldham a killer?”
    “Let’s just say, if he ever does show back up, I’d have that rent money ready.”
    That got the tenant skedaddling off to leave Jake to sort through the mail in peace. He found a cable bill. Water bill. Pool maintenance bill. Nothing that would help Jake track Starvin’ Marvin down.
    Then he found it. An overdue notice for a storage unit. Jake kissed the envelope.
    “Oh, I’ve got you now!”
     

CHAPTER 13
    The dungeon was quiet except for the hushed murmur of people nursing their assorted wounds. Evie was one amongst them, although her small nicks and scrapes were nothing next to Darion’s and Back’s wounds. Of course, Clyde and Esau had paid the ultimate price. Both were in their cells awaiting Igor’s arrival.
    “This is freaking me out,” Andrew said.
    Papa snorted. “You child, had a hand in creating this carnage.”
    Andrew, however, seemed proud of that fact. “I know.” His chest swelled. “My first kill inside. Four total.”
    “Okay,” Door said. “I think that there has to be some kind of condition on what constitutes a kill.”
    “Like they have to still be fucking moving?” Back offered.
    “Or they have got more than ten minutes left to live, or something,” Door added.
    Evie could feel the pressure build as the men squabbled. Why weren’t they focused on the big picture?
    “Look,” Andrew protested. “That wasn’t my point.” He pointed to the air. “Listen,” he urged. “It’s too quiet.” He gulped. “Ever since I got here, Esau’s been preaching. It was like…soothing.”
    “You’re