SCREW...
The days trickled by, slowly morphing into weeks that somehow managed to accumulate into months. Colin’s nerves were still as taut as a violin string, but the anticipated disaster remained conspicuously absent, like a guest who never showed up to the party. Fortunately, his house had undergone a transformation worthy of a military bunker, courtesy of Paxton’s state-of-the-art security system. With enough sensors and alarms to make Fort Knox blush, Colin could finally catch his breath, knowing that any potential intruder would be greeted with a cacophony of sirens and flashing lights.
Belle had eventually traded in her couch potato summer status for that of an academic scholar, much to the delight of Thommy, who couldn’t be prouder and still praised the ground she was walking on. Meanwhile, LeighAnn had embarked on her academic journey, armed with a backpack just the way she had envisioned – a majestic unicorn adorned with a car tattoo and rainbow-hued mane. Henry, on the other hand, had undergone a remarkable transformation, thanks to Sam’s positive influence. Once an academic underachiever, he was now soaring to new heights, leaving his classmates in a cloud of dust.
Yes, everything seemed to be humming along nicely in their little world. Except, of course, for that pesky detail of Wanda’s killer still roaming free.
The crisp October air had a certain bite to it, but Colin’s restlessness had little to do with the chill. For hours, he had been tossing and turning, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts that refused to grant him the sweet release of slumber. With LeighAnn now comfortably ensconced in her own room, the entire bed was solely his.
And right now, his thoughts revolved around Amber.
It was one of those things with Amber. Somewhere between sharing a meal and exchanging pleasantries over the phone, Colin had found himself unwittingly trapped in the tangled web of emotions for her. Yet, like a stubborn mule, he refused to acknowledge or confront these burgeoning feelings, opting instead to bury them deep within the recesses of his psyche. But his efforts were about as effective as trying to smother a fire with gasoline – the more he tried to ignore the flames, the brighter they seemed to burn.
Confiding in Chris was out of the question, for fear of subjecting himself to endless ribbing and unsolicited advice. So, Colin did what any self-respecting, emotionally constipated individual would do: he internalized everything, ruminating endlessly on his predicament like a cow chewing its cud. Hours upon hours were spent in this fruitless mental exercise, leaving him as productive as a rocking chair - He was busy, but he didn’t make any progress.
Just the previous night, Amber had graced Colin’s house with her presence, partaking in a delightful family dinner before retiring to the conservatory for a cozy chat. As the evening drew to a close and Colin dutifully escorted her to the door, the universe seemed to align, presenting him with a golden opportunity. There she stood, mere inches away, gazing up at him with those eyes that seemed to look into his very soul. The atmosphere was ripe with possibility, the air thick with unspoken tension. He was paralyzed, his brain seemingly short-circuiting like an overloaded computer. While every fiber of his being yearned to kiss Amber, his body stubbornly refused to cooperate.
His inability to make a move left him utterly perplexed. Just a few months prior, he had embarked on a whirlwind summer affair with Luciana. For ten glorious days, the two had engaged in a veritable marathon of raw fucking, exploring every inch of each other’s bodies with the enthusiasm of teenagers discovering the wonders of intimacy for the first time.
Yet, as Colin reluctantly admitted to himself, that insatiable hunger for physical intimacy was slowly rearing its head once more, like a slumbering dragon awakening from its lair. But with Amber, it would be different – a stark contrast to the fleeting flirting with Luciana. This wouldn’t be just a casual fling or a momentary itch to scratch; no, this would be something far more profound, a connection that carried the weight of commitment and emotional investment.
And therein lay the crux of his dilemma. While his baser instincts yearned for the sweet release of passion, a part of him recoiled at the prospect of diving headfirst into the deep end of the relationship pool.
With a grumble loud enough to rouse the dead, Colin hauled himself out of bed, his feet hitting the floor. Coffee – that magical elixir of life – was the only thing to tame the beast of his morning grumpiness. He shuffled into the kitchen, his body operating on autopilot as the heavenly aroma of freshly brewed java slowly roused his senses.
Wasting no time, he poured himself a steaming mug, doctoring it with a splash of milk before retreating to the table, newspaper in hand. Ah, the sweet illusion of a peaceful morning routine – a fleeting fantasy, for the head of a household. Sure enough, his solitude was shattered mere moments later by the arrival of one of his offspring, in this case, the ever-charming Henry.
“Good morning, Dad,” the boy mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep as he made a beeline for the coffee pot.
“Hey, why are you up so early?”
Henry flopped into the chair across from his dad with all the enthusiasm of a wet dishrag. “I have an important exam on Monday,” he sighed. “Sam and I hit the books yesterday, but chemistry and I don’t exactly have a love connection.”
Colin couldn’t have missed the goofy grin plastered across his son’s face if he tried. Henry and Sam had been an item since summer, and Sam was practically a fixture in their home at this point. Still, the two lovebirds hadn’t made their grand debut as a couple at school yet. The fear of becoming the bullies’ new chew toy was keeping them in the closet for now. “So, you studied with Sam, huh?” Colin asked with a knowing smirk, taking a swig of his morning joe.
Henry rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad, we studied!” he protested, his voice dripping with teenage exasperation. But then a sly grin crept across his face. “Well, most of the time.”
Colin looked at his son. “It’s all right, kid, you’re young and in love. Your grades are great. I’m proud of you!”
A few hundred feet away, tucked behind some conveniently placed trees, was Chris’ house. Inside, he and Willow were still nestled all cozy in the bed, but were already wide awake, as Willow had to mosey on over to the flower shop to arrange some posies for a big funeral happening that day in Newville. As for Chris, his shift was just an hour away from kicking his butt into gear.
But in the last seventeen minutes and twelve seconds, neither of them has wasted a single thought on work. Chris rolled on his back, his heart pounding like a jackhammer, while beads of sweat adorned his brow.
“Damn, Chris,” Willow panted, struggling to catch her breath. “They don’t call it a ‘quickie’ for nothing. That was anything but quick.”
“Hey, I can’t help it,” he chuckled, rolling onto his side with a mischievous grin. Propping his head up on his hand, Chris looked at his girlfriend with a twinkle in his eye. “You’re just so incredibly sexy. I gotta take my time and appreciate you being naked.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I expected something like this and set the alarm clock half an hour early,” she giggled, untangling herself from the sheets and standing up with a sly grin.
Chris’ gaze hungrily roamed over her naked body, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. “Damn, you’re fucking hot,” he grumbled. In a flash, he crawled closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back into the rumpled sheets. Like a starving man presented with a feast, he attacked her with a flurry of wild, passionate kisses.
Willow’s laughter rang out like a melodious chime, her body squirming as she tried in vain to defend herself from Chris’ relentless onslaught of kisses. But he was a man possessed, merciless in his pursuit of her affections. Only when she could barely catch her breath between fits of giggles did he finally relent, gazing at her with a triumphant grin. “You are...” she managed to say, her words trailing off as she struggled to compose herself.
“An idiot? An asshole?”
“No, I think we’re actually past that status,” she replied, her gentle smile hinting at a teasing remark to come. “You’re just... wonderful. Insatiable, relentless, sexy, crazy, and utterly incorrigible, but wonderful nonetheless.”
“I like it when you call me wonderful,” Chris confessed quietly. “This is... uhm... this is... it’s kind of...”
“Wonderful?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you are,” Willow affirmed, her voice taking on a more serious tone, though her eyes still danced with mirth. “You ARE wonderful. Everything about you is wonderful. Even your complete lack of self-control when I’m naked.” She giggled and brushed her hands through his hair. “I just love spending time with you. Dressed or not. So much quality time.”
“Hey, uh... funny you mention quality time.” Chris nibbled on his lip. Then, he blurted out the thought that had been marinating in his mind for weeks. “When... was the last time you actually saw the inside of your apartment?”
Her brow furrowed. After a few moments of intense cerebral gymnastics, she responded with the eloquence of a bewildered toddler. “Uhm... No clue? Haven’t we... I mean, I was... uhm...”
“Bingo!” He flashed a triumphant grin. “The last time we were there was six weeks ago.”
“Then Fernie will certainly be dead,” Willow gasped, her eyes widening like saucers as the realization hit her.
Fernie Sanders, a vibrant and lush fern, had been Chris’ botanical offering on their second official date – a gesture that had Willow beaming brighter than a supernova. She had christened the verdant fellow with that moniker and paraded him around like a newborn babe every time Chris visited her. For Willow, Fernie was the leafy embodiment of their budding romance, and he had thrived under her doting care – at least until he was ignored and neglected, for aussumingly six weeks.
“That’s... not what this is about.”
“He was my friend.”
Chris let out a hearty chuckle. “You’re a lunatic but I’ve known you were a few leaves short of a bushel since what went down in that Italian alley.” He flashed her a mischievous grin before continuing, “But never mind that, my delightfully deranged darling. What I’m actually trying to hint at...” He paused, his heart pounding like it was trying to break free from his ribcage, and he doubted the wild, passionate sex they’d engaged in mere moments ago was solely to blame for his elevated pulse, “Why do you still... keep your apartment?”
“Uhm... Christopher Thielmann, are you seriously proposing, that after four months of dating, I should pack up my belongings – Fernie’s urn included – and move in with you?”
„Nooooo, I’d never... yes?“
“That’s crazy.” Willow’s expression morphed into one of utmost seriousness, her features as grave as a marble statue in a cemetery. For a moment, Chris braced himself for an outright rejection, mentally preparing to have his heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. Then, without warning, her solemn facade cracked, and a radiant smile broke through like the first rays of dawn after a long, dark night. “And the answer is yes, you lovable lunatic.”
Colin’s office had become a veritable racetrack, with him pacing back and forth like a caged lion, leaving a trail of scuffed carpet in his wake. All 16 suspects were currently residing under the same roof, courtesy of a holiday that had granted them a temporary reprieve from their daily grind. It was as if the universe had decided to play a cosmic joke by gathering all the potential culprits in one convenient location, just to taunt Colin.
To make matters worse, Paxton, the resident tech wizard, was still locked in a fierce battle with the tablet from hell. He had managed to slay one of its digital demons, but the infernal device kept spawning new threats like a hydra growing extra heads. It was a technological nightmare straight out of Dante’s Inferno, and both men knew that Leyla’s delicate hands couldn’t have been behind such a diabolical scheme. That left them with the unsettling realization that a tech-savvy warlock was lurking among them, but the suspects’ collective lack of coding prowess made pinpointing the culprit about as easy as finding a needle in a haystack the size of Texas.
Without warning, a tidal wave of anger crashed over Colin, threatening to sweep away what little remained of his sanity. It was the kind of helpless, all-consuming rage that had been making his life a living hell for months – the sort of fury that burns within and swallows whole. This anger, this relentless tormentor, had to be released lest it consumed him entirely, reducing him to a mere husk of a man, devoid of all joy.
He scurried into the basement. With the efficiency of a NASCAR pit crew, he picked out a girl and had her tied up on the steel table in chamber 9 in a mere three minutes. The poor thing begged and pleaded, her tears leaving streaks on her face that would make a raccoon jealous. But Colin, leaning against the wall with all the nonchalance of a cat sunbathing, just gave her a look.
“Listen up, sweetheart,” he drawled, “Your begging isn’t going to change the fact that to me you’re absolutely nothing.” With that, he slapped a gag on her as the relentless begging was more annoying than fingernails on a chalkboard. “I don’t give a single fuck about you. Keep whining, I’ll make it even more painful for you.” Colin shot her a hateful glance. “Which only means... more fun for me.”
Just then, the door burst open, and in strutted Chris, beaming all over his face. “COLIN!” he bellowed, his voice carrying enough volume to wake the dead. Striding over to the steel table with all the swagger of a peacock on steroids, Chris stopped on the opposite side of his friend and fixed his gaze on the poor, tied-up girl. “Hey there, sweetie,” he chirped, “GOD, you got gorgeous eyes. The color of the gag looks good on you. Really suits you.” Turning back to his best friend, Chris could barely contain his excitement. “Buddy, you’ll never guess! I asked Willow if she wanted to move in with me, and she said yes! Can you believe it? SHE SAID YES!”
“These are... fantastic news. Congratulations,” Colin replied, his smile as genuine as a used car salesman’s promise that the vehicle had definitely, totally, not been in any accidents whatsoever. His eyes remained completely emotionless.
“Hey, what...”
“I can’t do that anymore.” Colin broke. His facade crumbled. His shoulders slumped like a deflated balloon, and he shook his head with the vigor of a wet dog after a bath. His mouth hung open, ready to unleash a scream that seemed to be having a heated internal debate about whether it really wanted to make an appearance or just stay comfortably nestled in his throat.
Chris circled the steel table. Wrapping his arms around his friend, he whispered soothing words. “Hey, hey, everything will be fine, okay? We’ve got this, buddy. We’ll make a plan, just like we always do.” His pep talk was rudely interrupted by the tied-up girl’s incessant cries, which grated on Chris’ nerves. Whipping his head around, he fixed her with a deathly glare. “Shut the fuck up, okay? Otherwise, I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.” Turning back to his bestie, he resumed his motivational speech. “We’ll meet at your place tonight. We’re not waiting for Pax anymore. It’s just you and me, bro. We’re going full McBride on this case, just better – checking alibis, evaluating camera evidence, the whole nine yards.”
Colin extricated himself from the embrace. Fixing his friend with a look of exasperation and fond annoyance, he deadpanned, “Okay, but do something about that fucking grin on your face.”
“I can’t. I had fantastic sex with my amazing girlfriend this morning.” Chris beamed all over his face. “And fuuuuuck, I love cumming inside her.”
“Still going at it like rabbits?”
“Like hormonal, stoned, teenage rabbits!”
“And she’s moving in with you, yes?”
“Yes, man! Willow already lives with me anyway, but now it’s really official,” Chris gushed, his eyes shining brighter than a kid’s on Christmas morning. “And you know what? I just got a call from my lawyer, and he told me the divorce will be finalized next week. Then it is official!” He practically vibrated with excitement. “And I promised Willow that if she finally realizes I’m not an asshole nor an idiot – which, let’s be real, I’m totally not – then she’ll get a real ring. And this morning, she said, and I quote, ‘I think we’re actually past that status.’ Can you believe it?”
“So... you’re gonna propose to her?”
“Shit, can I do that? Will she say yes? We’ve only been together for four months. What if she says no? OH GOD, WHAT IF SHE SAYS NO?”
Colin let out a chuckle. “Somehow, I got the distinct impression that if you popped the question, her answer wouldn’t be ‘no.’ But hey, maybe it’s a good idea to drop the L-bomb first before you start picking out tuxedos and cake flavors.”
“I’m scared to tell her,” Chris blurted out. “I have never said those three little words and actually meant it. Except to you. I honestly love you, Colin.”
“How cute!”
“Fuck you. That’s high praise coming from me!” Chris feigned offense. “You, Wanda, your kids, and Willow are the only people on this planet that I’ve got a soft spot for. And I’m slowly but surely developing an affection for Thommy. The lad’s worming his way into becoming an honorary member of this dysfunctional family circus.”
“As I mentioned - Cute,” Colin quipped with a smirk. “But I love you too, you fucking lunatic.” He nodded towards the steel table. “Up for a little torture before you bare your soul to Willow?”
“Always. Through thick and thin.”
“Through skin and bones.”
“Through organs and brains,” Chris whispered and turned towards the sinister steel table with the eager enthusiasm of a serial killer gazing at his prey. “You have a hammer? I have an idea,” he added with a smirk.
In the evening, after a bloodbath that would make even the most seasoned slasher movie villain blush, the dynamic duo settled in Colin’s conservatory. Once they’d scrubbed off the last traces of their legendary massacre - and a few stray body parts - they sat cross-legged on the floor, the list of horrors lying between them like a ticking time bomb. For an hour, they’d been playing a twisted game of verbal ping-pong, lobbing arguments back and forth in a valiant attempt to eliminate at least one name from the list of 16 potential killers.
“Jonah is black!” Chris interjected.
“So what? Does that eliminate him as a suspect? They don’t call him the Black Death for nothing.”
“No, but I think that would be a detail that Willow would have noted.”
Colin thought about it. “She got a blow to the head. She said he was wearing gloves. She didn’t even see his face.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
The room fell quiet. That’s when Thommy made his grand entrance, bursting through the doorway. The poor guy looked like he’d just seen a ghost, nervously scratching his elbow and doing a little dance from foot to foot. “What’s going on?” Colin asked.
“I...” Thommy opened his mouth, but the words seemed to get lost somewhere between his brain and his lips. His tongue darted out, nervously licking his lower lip.
“THOMMY DAY!” Belle’s voice echoed through the house with such force that it probably rattled a few windows. And there she was, framed in the doorway like a vengeful goddess, fixing her husband with a death stare. Even hardened serial killers like Colin and Chris couldn’t help but slip back a few inches.
“I...” The boy raised his hands in a placating gesture.
Belle wasn’t about to let this one go. She planted her hands firmly on her hips, striking a power pose as she fixed her hapless husband with a look that could have melted steel. “Did you tell him?”
“NO!”
“Tell me WHAT?” Colin asked. Meanwhile, Chris was playing the role of the supportive best friend to a tee, subtly placing a reassuring hand on Colin’s knee in a gesture that was equal parts comforting and somehow slightly homoerotic.
“Nothing,” Belle hissed. “Because there’s NOTHING to tell.”
Chris and Colin exchanged a look that said it all. Thommy was rooted to the spot, his back pressed against the doorframe, his facial expression a masterclass in abject terror. “I... I ha-ha-haven’t said... any-any-anything,” he stammered.
“Belle, whatever is going on, the poor guy is already stuttering again,” Chris chimed in, being the voice of reason. Pushing himself up from the floor, he sauntered over to the feuding couple, his movements exuding a casual nonchalance that belied the tension crackling in the air. But then, something caught his eye, something in Belle’s hand. Chris’ mouth fell open, as he blurted out, “Oh fuck,” while Belle executed a sleight of hand that would make Houdini jealous, making the object disappear into her jacket pocket.
No sooner had the expletive ricocheted off Chris’ lips than Colin materialized beside them. “What’s this ‘oh fuck’ business?” he asked.
Quicker than a blink, Chris inserted himself between his buddy and Thommy like a human shield against potential murder attempts. “Nothing, I... just had a train of thought,” he soothed. “A fleeting ponder, if you will.” With all the subtlety of a bulldozer, he tried to herd Colin back toward the conservatory, hands gently but firmly applied. “We... uhm... We have to discuss something. Now. Just the two of us!”
“You’re a shitty liar, Chris!” Colin declared. Pivoting toward his son-in-law with the grace of a weather vane in a hurricane, he fixed Thommy with a stare that could bore holes through concrete. “But YOU, Thommy, are even worse at it, so what’s the matter?”
Thommy’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down like a yo-yo as he swallowed harder than a competitive eater at an all-you-can-eat buffet. His teeth clenched, and his eyes ping-ponged between his wife and father-in-law. “I...”
“Don’t you dare, Thommy,” Belle threatened. “It’s a matter between you and me.”
“I...”
“TELL ME!” Colin bellowed, the words exploding from his mouth with more force than a cannon firing a cannonball. He took a step towards his son-in-law, his eyes narrowed to slits. But before he could advance further, Chris intervened, throwing himself between the two men once more.
“I...” Thommy’s voice trembled, his face contorting as if he was about to burst into tears at any moment. “I... Oh, shit, man.” In a move that would have earned a standing ovation from the most dramatic of thespians, he clapped his hands over his head and sank to the floor in agonizing slow motion, knees drawn up to his chest, the very picture of abject misery and despair.
Colin’s gaze shifted from the crumpled form of his son-in-law to his daughter, his eyes boring into her. “You, Missy,” he said, the fatherly tone in his voice carrying more authority than a judge’s gavel, “tell me RIGHT NOW what’s going on and what you’re hiding in your pocket.”
Belle shot her father a glare before begrudgingly fishing into her pocket and producing a small object, holding it out like a peace offering to a hungry lion. “It’s a tracker,” she grumbled.
Colin had no clue what wild conspiracy theory was brewing in his daughter’s mind, but he knew it was most likely way off base. “Aaand... so what?”
“So what? DAD!” she huffed, hands defiantly planted on her hips. “My husband tracks my every move. Ever heard of a little thing called trust?” She rolled her eyes so hard, they nearly did a 360. “And this whole ordeal is between a husband and wife, so butt out, old man!”
His gaze shifted to Thommy, who was still crumpled on the floor looking like a sad sack of potatoes. Colin could read between the lines - Thommy was terrified to tell Belle the truth, even if it meant their marriage went up in flames. He took a deep breath and stepped into the line of fire, taking the blame. “That tracker isn’t Thommy’s, honey. It’s mine.”
“You... WHAT?”
“Belle, honey, let me explain,” Colin said, reaching out to grab her hand with all the gentle care of a bomb technician defusing an explosive. Belle wasn’t having it though, swatting his hand away. “This is just a... safety precaution, that’s all. Henry and Crumbs have the same little gizmos tucked away in their backpacks. I’m not some creepy stalker monitoring your every step!” He turned to help a dazed Thommy up off the floor. “Your husband here has nothing to do with that. I’m the one to shout at!”
Belle whipped her head around, fixing Thommy with a glare so icy, it could’ve frozen a volcano. “No? Then why didn’t Mr. Innocent over here loop me in on your secret surveillance operation?” She jabbed an accusatory finger in her husband’s direction, her voice cranking up several decibel levels. “HUH? WHY THE FUCK DON’T YOU TALK TO ME? WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE PARTNERS!”
“He caught me red-handed as I sew one of those bad boys into the new backpack I got you,” Colin chimed in, his tone soothing. He gave Thommy a reassuring nod, then turned back to Belle with his most disarming smile. “I made him swear not to breathe a word of this to you under any circumstances. I’m sorry, honey, I was just trying to keep you safe and sound.”
“Screw you both and your lame excuses,” Belle spat. Without another word, she whipped around and stormed off, making a beeline for the basement apartment. The resounding BANG of the door slamming behind her echoed through the house with such force, Thommy practically jumped out of his skin.
“She is... pretty moody at the moment, huh?” Chris joked.
Thommy nodded slowly. “She’s just... really focused on her studies right now, you know?” He turned to face his father-in-law, eyes pleading for understanding. “I wanted to... well, it wasn’t... I...”
“It’s okay, kiddo.” Colin’s expression softened as he pulled the boy into a big bear hug, enveloping the flustered young man. “I know why you did this,” he continued, giving Thommy’s head an affectionate pat before planting a loud, smacking kiss right on his crown. “And I’m fucking thankful for it, you brave little lunatic. Now come on, we’re gonna go-” The shrill ringing of a phone interrupted him midsentence.
“That’s Pax,” Chris muttered, answering the call. But his usual laidback smile instantly morphed into a mask of abject horror. He gasped, eyes wide with a potent mix of worry, fear, and barely contained rage. “We have to go, like right fucking now!” he hollered. “The security cameras caught someone lurking around Willow’s apartment!” Chris didn’t wait for a response, already booking it towards the door.
Colin was behind the wheel, channeling his inner NASCAR driver as he tore down the winding road to Newville. The darkness enveloped them, but Chris was too busy mashing buttons on his phone to notice. He was on a mission to reach Willow, and no amount of redial tones would deter him. As for Paxton, well, he was the eyes and ears of the operation, providing a live commentary on speaker. He was narrating the riveting tale of a man casually strolling through Willow’s apartment.
Tears streamed down Chris’ face as Colin put the pedal to the metal. “DRIVE FASTER!” he bellowed, his phone practically fused to his ear. Every time Willow’s voicemail greeted him, he let out a primal scream.
Meanwhile, Colin was doing his best impression of a zen master, trying to maintain a clear head despite the chaos unfolding around him. The windshield wipers were working overtime, frantically swishing back and forth like a metronome. Colin squinted through the downpour, his knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel with the intensity of a vice grip.
Suddenly, Chris voiced the thoughts that were eating him alive, “Please, Colin, we talked about Fernie this morning, and I bet she’s going home to check on that fucking plant. Her store closes in two minutes!”
Just when they thought the tension couldn’t get any more intense, Paxton’s voice crackled through the speaker like a breaking news alert. “I CAN’T SEE HIM ANYMORE!” he shouted, his voice reaching decibel levels that would make a heavy metal concert seem like a library reading. The frantic clacking of keys could be heard in the background like a herd of tiny, keyboard-wielding gremlins were staging a revolt.
“Screw it,” Colin growled and he slammed his foot down harder, propelling them forward with the force of a rocket launch.
