A Fatal Accomplice

2.

That's when I realized his keys were still on the entryway table, glinting under the soft hallway light. His shoes, the same scuffed brown loafers he always wore, hadn't moved an inch from their spot by the door. His coat, a familiar dark navy trench, was still neatly hung on the coat rack by the door, exactly where he always left it.

 All the signs pointed to him being home, but there was no sign of him.

A creeping unease settled over me as I stood there, the silence of the house amplifying my growing anxiety.

Where could he be?

Just then, I heard a soft rustling sound behind me. Turning around, I saw Maple, our fluffy golden retriever, padding towards me with her tail wagging enthusiastically.

 Her golden fur glowed in the soft light, and her eyes sparkled with curiosity. I knelt down and ruffled the fur on her head, feeling the warmth and softness beneath my fingers.
"Hi girl," I said, my voice filled with affection. "Where's Daddy? Do you know where he is?" Her ears perked up at the sound of my voice, and she tilted her head to the side, as if trying to understand my question.

I let out a weary sigh, my frustration palpable. "Of course you don't," I muttered under my breath.

 Slowly rising from the cold, hard floor, my aging knees emitted an audible crack. As I began to make my way towards our bedroom, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of our recent argument, my gaze fell upon the scene that froze me in place.

 There, sprawled in a chilling pool of crimson, was Gillian, unmistakably home, but in a horrifyingly different state than I had ever seen him before.

JAY'S P.O.V

I knelt close to the edge of the tall building, peering down at the sprawling apartment complex below.

There, amidst the faint glow of streetlights, I spotted her: just the gentle curve of her shoulder and the cascade of her hair, but unmistakably her silhouette. Beside me, Olegra crouched low, her slender frame tense with a primal vigilance.
"You okay?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant city hum.
Reluctantly tearing my gaze from the distant figure, I turned to face Olegra. Her face bore the marks of recent struggle — a bruised cheek, a nearly shut eye, a split lip — yet her lips curled into a weary but determined smile. I reached out, taking her hand and bringing it to my lips.
"You're my savior," I murmured. "You deserve a long break. My limo is waiting at the tourist resort in Clearwater. Take it to the airport."
"But... you're not planning to stay here alone, are you?" Olegra interrupted, concern etched in her voice. "You need backup, sir. If he decides to..."
"I have everything under control. I have a plan to keep her safe," I assured her, my tone resolute yet tinged with a hint of apprehension.

"But-"

"Olegra, go."

My tone, though still gentle, carried a new weight. It was no longer the familiar tone of a friend offering advice. Instead, it was the authoritative command of a boss, someone used to being obeyed without question.

The shift was subtle yet unmistakable, signaling a change in our dynamic and leaving no room for argument. It's funny how you never realized how used you were to being obeyed until someone defied you. I turned away from Olegra and looked at the building again, and promptly forgot she existed. I could no longer see Quinn, and the place was covered in flames. 

~shit~

I sprang to my feet with urgency, ensuring my harness was securely fastened before stepping off the edge. Moments later, I shattered through her window. Swiftly unstrapping myself, I swept the room with urgency.

"Quinn?" My voice echoed through the empty kitchen. No response.
"Quinn?" The bedrooms were deserted, save for her boyfriend's lifeless body sprawled on the floor.
There she lay, unconscious on the living room carpet. With a decisive motion, I sliced through the ropes that bound her to the chair and gently hoisted her onto my shoulder.

I secured my harness tightly, feeling the weight of determination settle across my shoulders. Stepping forward, I descended into the narrow alleyway below, where Nilson, my trusted driver, awaited in the shadow of the towering buildings.
"Carry her to my house in Vegas," I instructed, my voice cutting through the quiet urgency of the moment. "I'll meet you guys there."
Carefully, I lifted her, cradling her gently as I navigated the uneven pavement toward the waiting car. Setting her in the backseat, I paused briefly to ensure her comfort before turning swiftly and retracing my steps, ascending the stairs to where our mission had begun.

I opened the front door and slipped inside, moving swiftly through the hallway to the bathroom. The body I had hidden there earlier awaited me, a grim reminder of what had transpired. With determined yet careful movements, I lifted the body and silently carried it to where I had first discovered Quinn.
My heart raced as I meticulously erased any trace of my presence—removing my harness, wiping away fingerprints, ensuring nothing tied me to the scene. Satisfied that all evidence had been meticulously eradicated, I exited swiftly, gently closing the door behind me.
Outside, the distant wail of sirens began to echo through the neighborhood, growing louder with each passing second. 'Wonderful,' I thought wryly to myself, slipping into the driver's seat of my car. With a calm exterior masking the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I drove away into the night, leaving behind a scene poised to unfold in the hands of law enforcement.