Dangerous Love(BOOK1)

29.

I spent the entire night re-reading the newspaper articles and the bio of every person in the manilla folders. I still dont understand anything, I didnt bother looking at the deceased person photos. There was no need for the disgusting visions inplanted into my head. I had to call into work the next morning because how exhausted I was. Ive never missed a day at work. This is really kicking me in the ass. At least its a friday.

But Im not going to sleep, no way. Im going out and looking for Andrew. For some reason I feel like he could help me with all this. Im sure Ive left about a thousand calls to his disconnected phone. I know I should give up, why even bother with someome that has gone ghost. I just.. I just feel like I'll be safer with Andrew.

I show up to his house, hopeful that I will find him this time around. Walking quietly towards the door as I hold my breath. Finally, I knock. I get nothing for about 50 seconds, then the door clicks and begins opening. My heart stops in my chest and my breath gets caught in my throat.

"Andr-" I begin but my voice comes to a halt when a tall, skinny blonde woman peers through the crack.

"Yes? Who are you?" She asks, hiding behind the large door.

"Im Kristy. Is Andrew here?"

"Andrew? No, nobody here by that name." she says shyly, looking down at me.

"Oh, are you sure? I-"

"I'm sure. I just moved in here with my family almost a week ago." she interrupts me.

I look at her longingly, a look of confusion spread across my face. She looks at me, still peering through a little crack. I sigh and nod at her, its no use anymore. I just turn and walk back to my car. My body is filled with so many emotions, mixing so rapidly that I cant tell when one ends and another begins.

Im happy I'm not dealing with the constant thought to be perfect for Andrew. Im mad that Andrew has just disappeared on me. Im sad because he hasnt given me any clues, or hints as to where he went. Im frightened about this situation with the packages, the strange calls. Im thrilled by the drama that it brings. Im nervous for what is to come in my future. Excited to find the answer to why all this is happening to me. Or was it anxious?

All I can do is think about everything as I drive back to my house in silence. My breathing and the light hum of the car were all that could be heard. I can barely keep focus on the road, my mind keeps gazing off into the sky. My thoughts consuming me. Im surprised I made it home safely, to be completely truthful. I wasnt paying attention; I wasnt being careful.

××

Days and days, almost a month. Im still completely clueless, Andrew is still missing, and I am pretty close to going insane. I never noticed how obsessed Ive become with the entire situation. I have barely gotten enough sleep and Im becoming very backed up at work because I spend my days doing research. When you walk into my house you see all the newspaper articles layed out on the floor. Right next to the opened manilla folders and the closed box that has grafic death scene photographs.

I was sitting on my couch. My hair in a tangled messy bun, only wearing baggy sweatpants and a white tanktop. Looking at every paper layed out on my livingroom floor. How can these thing be related? What do they have in common? My eyes slowly shift to the closed box off to the side of the papers. I hesitantly get up and grab it; then return to my spot on the couch. I open the package and grab the stack of folders inside. I finally convince myself to open the first file.

My eyes fall onto a womans body, toppled over onto her front surrounded in blood. A open wound on the back of her head so big, you could practically see through it. There was a large shotgun laying on the ground next to her partially in her grasp. On the next page, a man lays on his back with open slash wounds on his chest and and a slit on his throat. Blood was spewing out his nose and mouth, as well at his flesh wounds. The last page showing a police report and victim information.

Apparently there was a disagreement between the two, the wife cut her husbands throat and chest before shooting herself. I continue reading through the report then I see the names of the vitims. Something strange about their names, something familiar. Without thinking too much about it, I move onto the next file.

It wasnt as bad as the first one, just a man with a single bullet through the skull. It was quite large and the blood flooded his face as he was left in the sitting up position. His face was extremely pale under the large amounts of blood. He was wearing a lot of jewelry, he must make good money. As I read the police report, it just explains that a citizen was walking through the trail when they spotted his body sitting by a tree. Again, when I see his name I get a very familiar feeling. Where do I know this name from?

When I move onto the next file, and when I open it all the blood drains from my body and my breathing stops. The pictures were of a man, laying on the sidewalk with a bullet hole on the side of his forehead. He was pretty covered in blood but I recognized his face; as well as the surrounding area. It was Johnsons Body. The man that was shot right next to me. The police description matched the events that took place and the victims name matched also.