say over the phone, she needed to face her.
Katie walked to her hall closet and pulled down two suitcases from the top shelf.
CHAPTER NINE
1.
Miss Helen waited by her front window for the killer to come.
Her home-based business, Miss Helen’s Psychic Readings, was located on State Road 301, between Tampa and the Hillsborough State Park. Her house was set back from the road and situated on almost two acres of land; it had been left to her by her mother after she passed away six years ago. Her neighbor to one side was Mrs. Jean Smith, an old lady in the early stages of dementia. Her neighbor on the other side was a middle-aged couple who constantly drank and argued.
Miss Helen’s Psychic Readings was open from eight in the morning to seven o’clock at night. She preferred appointments, but if she wasn’t busy she would take walk-ins. She really couldn’t turn down any business.
She had a sign out by the road that advertised her business. It had been constructed, hand-painted, and installed by her brother ten years ago. He died two years ago. She knew she should get a new sign, a bigger one, a fancier one, but she couldn’t bear to replace the sign. It was something made by her brother’s hands that she could look at every day.
Her front yard was large and she’d had the driveway widened a few years back to handle extra cars parking in front of her home. Not that there was some kind of mad rush of customers, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Her vehicle, an older mini-van, was parked underneath the aluminum roof of the carport.
Miss Helen peeked out the window again. It was late in the afternoon and she was closed for the day. She’d had her last customer at three o’clock. She had to admit that she’d been a little distracted with her last customer, and she probably should have rescheduled, it would’ve only been fair to the poor woman who came in. Miss Helen knew she hadn’t given her the best service, and she almost felt like refunding the woman.
Almost.
After her last customer left, Miss Helen made sure the front door was locked and then she went to her bedroom to get the revolver from the drawer in her nightstand next to her bed. She had loaded the gun a few days ago with six brand new bullets from the box. She’d been keeping the gun by her bed every night for the last two weeks, but today she wanted the weapon with her at all times.
Miss Helen was in her mid-sixties, and she was a heavy-set woman. She wore large, baggy clothing which helped her conceal the revolver in her pants pocket more easily. She knew how to use the gun, it had been her brother’s and he’d shown her how to fire it at a remote pond in the woods a few years back. They shot at beer bottles until Miss Helen could hit at least half of them.
She had seen the killer in her dreams the last few nights, but not in any detail, only a shadowy figure. But she could feel him. She sensed that he had killed many times before, working his way across the country. At first he killed for pleasure, and then he killed to hone his skills. Recently he’d begun taking things from his victims, things he needed for some kind of ritual or ceremony which hadn’t been too clear to her in the dreams.
The shadowy killer was seeking someone in particular here in Tampa. Miss Helen didn’t know who the person was, but she was pretty sure it was a young woman.
She thought about calling the police, but she knew they would do nothing to help her. They didn’t believe in her mumbo-jumbo and they weren’t going to stake a cop outside her house because she had a few bad dreams.
No, this was something she was going to have to take care of herself.
The killer would be coming for her and she was going to be ready.
That’s why she had cleared her schedule for the next few days. She told her clients that she was going on a self-deserved mini-vacation. But in reality, she was going to be hiding inside her house in fear, waiting for the killer to
Katie walked to her hall closet and pulled down two suitcases from the top shelf.
CHAPTER NINE
1.
Miss Helen waited by her front window for the killer to come.
Her home-based business, Miss Helen’s Psychic Readings, was located on State Road 301, between Tampa and the Hillsborough State Park. Her house was set back from the road and situated on almost two acres of land; it had been left to her by her mother after she passed away six years ago. Her neighbor to one side was Mrs. Jean Smith, an old lady in the early stages of dementia. Her neighbor on the other side was a middle-aged couple who constantly drank and argued.
Miss Helen’s Psychic Readings was open from eight in the morning to seven o’clock at night. She preferred appointments, but if she wasn’t busy she would take walk-ins. She really couldn’t turn down any business.
She had a sign out by the road that advertised her business. It had been constructed, hand-painted, and installed by her brother ten years ago. He died two years ago. She knew she should get a new sign, a bigger one, a fancier one, but she couldn’t bear to replace the sign. It was something made by her brother’s hands that she could look at every day.
Her front yard was large and she’d had the driveway widened a few years back to handle extra cars parking in front of her home. Not that there was some kind of mad rush of customers, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Her vehicle, an older mini-van, was parked underneath the aluminum roof of the carport.
Miss Helen peeked out the window again. It was late in the afternoon and she was closed for the day. She’d had her last customer at three o’clock. She had to admit that she’d been a little distracted with her last customer, and she probably should have rescheduled, it would’ve only been fair to the poor woman who came in. Miss Helen knew she hadn’t given her the best service, and she almost felt like refunding the woman.
Almost.
After her last customer left, Miss Helen made sure the front door was locked and then she went to her bedroom to get the revolver from the drawer in her nightstand next to her bed. She had loaded the gun a few days ago with six brand new bullets from the box. She’d been keeping the gun by her bed every night for the last two weeks, but today she wanted the weapon with her at all times.
Miss Helen was in her mid-sixties, and she was a heavy-set woman. She wore large, baggy clothing which helped her conceal the revolver in her pants pocket more easily. She knew how to use the gun, it had been her brother’s and he’d shown her how to fire it at a remote pond in the woods a few years back. They shot at beer bottles until Miss Helen could hit at least half of them.
She had seen the killer in her dreams the last few nights, but not in any detail, only a shadowy figure. But she could feel him. She sensed that he had killed many times before, working his way across the country. At first he killed for pleasure, and then he killed to hone his skills. Recently he’d begun taking things from his victims, things he needed for some kind of ritual or ceremony which hadn’t been too clear to her in the dreams.
The shadowy killer was seeking someone in particular here in Tampa. Miss Helen didn’t know who the person was, but she was pretty sure it was a young woman.
She thought about calling the police, but she knew they would do nothing to help her. They didn’t believe in her mumbo-jumbo and they weren’t going to stake a cop outside her house because she had a few bad dreams.
No, this was something she was going to have to take care of herself.
The killer would be coming for her and she was going to be ready.
That’s why she had cleared her schedule for the next few days. She told her clients that she was going on a self-deserved mini-vacation. But in reality, she was going to be hiding inside her house in fear, waiting for the killer to
Similar Books
