We all go a little mad sometimes

Chapter 3: Motives are incidental.

**** Hayley meets with Scott and his buddies, but things go terribly wrong... Read and find out! :3                                                                                                                                                            ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I waited until my mom left for the night shift at the hospital to leave for Scott's party pad. It was nearly 9 o'clock at night and the streets were deserted. I guess double murders have that effect.

I only got lost once and found the road that led through the half finished sub division. It was near the outskirts of town, and most of the houses were covered in plastic. The completed model homes were in the center of the development all in one little group.

The prices for these gems of suburbia started at $300,000 and went up from there. I had no idea why anyone would want to pay that much for a place with no backyard and where you could look into your neighbor's bathroom since it was less than ten feet from your own. But what do I know?

I pulled my beaten up Toyota to a stop outside the house where Scott's car was parked. It was strangely dark in there and I wondered what to expect. I stepped out of the car and put my fingers around the small pocket knife I had tucked into my jeans. It wasn't big, but it gave me a little bit of comfort.

I walked up the short concrete path to the door and hesitated. It was quiet…real quiet. The only sounds were crickets, and I realized just how far away from the town I was. I sighed and squared my shoulders. Then I turned the handle and walked inside.

The first thing I noticed was the reek of weed. They had definitely been smoking in here. The second thing I noticed was the fact that the TV was on and there was a familiar face wearing a red and green sweater stabbing finger needles into a punk rock wannabe.

"Hello? Scott? We're the hell are you…I want my stuff." I called out.

The house was exactly what you would imagine a typical suburban house to look like. However, something was off. There was a pizza box with only a slice missing, and a six pack of beer that hadn't even been touched. Where were they?

I turned to look in the area next to the stairs. A plant had been overturned, the dirt spilling all over the plush white rug. Except, that wasn't the only thing staining the rug, I noticed. There was a large closet next to the stairs, and something very red and very dark was seeping from beneath the sliding door. I recognized what could only be blood. If it was stage stuff, it was damn good.

Taking a deep breath, I slid the door open and found Franklin hanging there like a suit. He had a wire coat hanger wrapped around his throat so tightly that it was cutting into his skin. His chest had been stabbed half a dozen times. He was dangling from the clothes pole with his eyes wide open.

The strange part in all of this was that I wasn't afraid. Also, I wasn't sickened or shocked by finding the idiot done up like this. There was a sort of calmness that had come over me, and I couldn’t help but wonder that whoever had done this had left him here for me to find.

I backed away from the closet and turned to look up the stairs. I cautiously started up them, ready for anything. There was a little thrill of excitement running up my spine, not fear but excitement. Somewhere in my head I was unnerved by my reaction. Surely I should be concerned? But no…there was just that little thrill of excitement and curiosity.

At the landing I looked around…wondering where to go first. The house was fairly large, with six bedrooms all on the second floor. That's when I saw the note taped to the mirror in the hallway. It had my name on it in red ink. I pulled it off with shaking hands and read the inside.