He let out a shuddery breath and said, ‘Oh, yeah. Oh, baby, that’s so good.”

  Sally Ann pushed his hand away, removed her mouth from his wet dick, and bounced to her feet. She laughed at his look of dismay and turned away from him, strutting over to the other side of the living room, where he kept his stereo.

  “Let’s put on some music.”

  Brad made an exasperated sound. “First you come on like you’re in heat. Next thing I know you’re giving me blue balls. What the hell?”

  Sally Ann glanced over her shoulder at him, smiling mischievously. “Some guys like a girl who’s a challenge. I guess you’re not one of those guys.”

  He stared at her in open-mouthed disbelief a moment before tucking his junk away and joining her at the stereo system. “What do you want to hear?”

  “Nicki Minaj. You know which one.”

  Brad groaned. “Again? I was thinking something more classic. More romantic. Like maybe Etta James.”

  “Fuck that old shit. Put my song on, Brad.”

  She moved away from the stereo and waited for him to do as she wanted, which of course he would do. The boy’s resistance to her demands had its limits. He did want to get laid, after all. Brad fiddled with the Bluetooth-enabled receiver a bit. Then he took out his phone and fiddled with that, too, connecting the receiver to Spotify.

  “Anaconda” by Nicki Minaj started pumping from the speakers moments later.

  Sally Ann started shaking her beautiful ass suggestively all over the living room. Despite his protest of her song request, Brad watched every highly sexualized movement of her body closely. She saw the mounting lust and frustration in his eyes and reveled in it. Fuck him for resisting her out in the car. No one did that to Sally Ann Wilson without getting some payback. But she could only take teasing him so long. She was at least as horny as he was and needed to get off. She ceased dancing and dropped to her knees again. Brad was about a dozen feet away. Her intent was to come toward him on her hands and knees. It would drive him wild.

  But she forgot all about that an instant later, because her new vantage point allowed her a glimpse around the kitchen partition into the little dining room. A puzzled frown replaced her formerly lustful expression. Brad’s look of anticipation also vanished as he turned and followed her gaze. Now they both saw the pumpkins sitting in the center of the dining table.

  There were two of them.

  Carved jack-o’-lanterns.

  The pumpkins hadn’t been there before they’d gone out to the movie. Sally Ann thought back a few hours. She’d sat at that table and drank a beer. The empty bottle was still there. She’d neglected to toss it in the trash. It’d been the only thing on the table prior to their departure, she was sure of it.

  Brad’s features twisted in confusion as he raised his voice to be heard above the thumping music. “Were those there when we left?”

  Sally Ann rolled her eyes.

  Of course not, she thought. Someone broke in.

  Or a maintenance man had come in and left the pumpkins there, though that didn’t seem at all likely. So that meant someone skilled at lock-picking. Sally Ann thought of how the lights had already been on as they’d come into the apartment. Now she remembered hitting the switch by the door on the way out, leaving the place in darkness.

  She was about to suggest they leave the apartment when she caught a glimpse of rapid movement in her peripheral vision. Turning her head, she saw a tall, lean man dressed all in black step out of the dark hallway that led to the bedrooms. A black ski mask covered his features. Clutched in his gloved right hand was a large machete. He raised it above his head as he came striding rapidly into the living room.

  Sally Ann screamed.

  Brad began to turn, again following her alarmed gaze, but it was too late to matter. He had a split-second to understand what was happening and raised up a hand in a meager self-defense gesture. The machete’s sharp blade sliced off three of his fingers as it descended. Sally Ann screamed again as the machete chopped into Brad’s neck, halfway severing his head in one blow. Blood erupted from the wound in a spectacular spray as the assailant ripped the blade away from the wounded flesh. Brad fell to his knees and slapped a hand over the deep slice in his neck. Blood continued to pump from the wound, spurting between his trembling fingers and rapidly staining his white shirt crimson.

  The man in the ski mask repositioned himself in front of his victim, raising the blood-soaked machete high over his head a second time.

  This time when it came down it split open the top of Brad’s head.

  Sally Ann had felt paralyzed throughout the attack. It had been so thoroughly unexpected and brutal. And so bloody, like something out of the horror movies her little brother loved. As a result, it was initially hard to believe the reality of what she was seeing.

  But now the paralysis broke.

  She surged to her feet and made a break for the door. Unfortunately, in her haste, she stumbled and hit her head on the end table and slumped unconscious to the floor.

  7.

  Six days until Halloween

  Willow Springs, TN

  By the time he made it back across the interior of the house to the short hallway outside his office, Chuck’s fear level had soared. He knew he’d been rash in deciding to conduct a search of the house on his own. The smart thing would be to hurry back the way he’d come and wait outside with his family until the law arrived.

  His affair with Fawn Hightower aside, Chuck was a man guided by reason in most things. However, while the smart move here was obvious, this situation caused him to set rationality aside. The illusion of home as a sanctuary had been shattered and it made him furious. Though his fear level was high, it was exceeded by an intense desire to get his hands on the intruder. His hands tensed at his sides as he imagined wrapping them around the scumbag’s throat and squeezing hard until the man’s face (he assumed it was a man, of course) turned purple.

  Chuck edged up to the doorframe and peeked into his office.

  It was empty.

  Chuck entered the office and went immediately to his desk. He already had the key to the locked bottom drawer pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Kneeling behind the desk, he slid the key into the lock, turned it, and pulled the drawer open. The deep drawer was empty save for a metal lockbox at the bottom. Inside it were his gun and box of shells. He flipped through his keys until he found the one for the lockbox and opened it.

  The gun was there, as expected, though until that moment, the paranoid part of him feared it’d been stolen. But the weapon was empty. He needed to take it out and load shells into the cylinder. His hand closed around the gun’s molded grip.

  Chuck flinched when his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. He took it out and frowned as he glanced at the screen. Fawn was calling. An image of her in black lingerie filled the screen. Seeing the picture made Chuck feel stupid. He’d added it to her contact listing after a few beers one night a few weeks ago and had neglected to remove it. Having the picture on his phone at all was a very risky thing. Associating it with Fawn’s number bordered on self-destructive, which was not like him at all. Lately he’d started turning the phone off when he was at home to reduce the likelihood of Karen spotting the image when his mistress called or texted, but that made it no less stupid. He made a mental note to delete the picture as soon as this hopefully very brief conversation was over.

  He tapped the “accept” button and put the phone to his ear.

  “Fawn, now’s not the time. I’ve got a situation here.”

  “I can see that. That bitch you’re married to is having a fucking hysterical meltdown. The boy’s holding on to her to keep her from going in after you. What the hell’s happening in there?”

  Chuck grimaced. “Please don’t talk about Karen like that.”

  Fawn grunted. “Why shouldn’t I? She has what I want. I hate her. Now tell me what’s happening before I march across the street and go in after you myself.”

  Chuck sighed. He told her the situation.

  “Jesus Christ. And you went back in? How stupid are you?”

  Chuck was about to reply, but he hesitated. Was that a creak he’d heard out in the hallway? Fawn’s loud voice in his ear made him unsure. He might have imagined the noise. Even if he hadn’t, houses creaked and settled sometimes. It didn’t mean anyone was out there.

  It didn’t mean someone wasn’t out there, either.

  Chuck rose from his squatting position and moved out from behind the desk. “Look, Fawn, I don’t have time for this. We’ll talk later. I’m coming back outside. And please keep your voice down. Karen might figure out who you’re talking to.”

  “Maybe I should just tell her.”

  Chuck ended the call and turned off the phone. He put it in his pocket and crept over to the door. Cutting Fawn off like that was a big gamble, but he really didn’t think she’d follow through on the threat, not in the midst of such a tense situation. He could be wrong, of course. Fawn might be angry enough to allow emotion to overwhelm her common sense. And if that happened, well, the consequences would be terrible, but he’d ultimately only have himself to blame.

  Right now, though, he needed to concentrate on what was right in front of him.

  He reached the open doorway, took a big breath, and peeked around the edge of the frame. Though not precisely empty, the short stretch of hallway was devoid of stealthily creeping intruders. Moonbeam, the family’s three-year-old black cat, peered up at Chuck from the center of the hallway, meowing once in a plaintive way when it saw him.

  Chuck let out the breath he’d been holding and stepped out into the hallway. As he slowly traversed its length, the cat arched its back and attempted to rub up against his ankles. Not needing the distraction, Chuck gently nudged the animal away with the toe of a shoe. It meowed again in response. This time the sound had an annoyed quality.

  Sorry, buddy, Chuck thought, and continued down the hallway.

  But the encounter with the animal unsettled him and in another few moments he realized he’d given no thought to Thor, their big German Shepherd. The dog had stayed out in the back yard during the family outing to the restaurant. Belatedly, it occurred to Chuck he hadn’t heard Thor bark even once since their return, which was highly unusual. His eyes widening at the sudden certainty that the intruder had harmed his dog, he abruptly abandoned caution and raced through the house to the den. One look through the French doors that opened onto the concrete patio was enough to soothe his worst fears.

  Thor was alive, lying on the ground about a dozen feet from the edge of the patio. He was gnawing on a very large bone. It looked like the kind of butcher’s shop leftover sometimes sold as a treat for dogs. Chuck opened the door and stepped outside. Thor let out a low growl as Chuck carefully approached the animal. The growl grew louder as he knelt before him and gently began to pry the bone from his slobbery maw.

  “Sorry, buddy,” Chuck said in his most placating tone. “But I can’t let you have this.”

  What had happened seemed obvious. The intruder had entered through the back, but not before first bribing Thor with the giant bone. That the man had gotten around the ostensibly fearsome animal so easily was disturbing. The dog always unleashed a furious cacophony of noise any time it detected the scent of unfamiliar humans entering his territory. Chuck was at a loss to explain it, except that maybe the person who’d come onto his property was one of those people with a natural, easy rapport with animals. There were people like that in the world, he knew. Animals instinctively trusted them. The notion that this person had been someone like that seemed counterintuitive, but Chuck could think of no other way to explain it.

  Chuck doubted the bone had been salted with poison. In that case, Thor would be sick or dying already. But he thought he should show it to the cops when they arrived, anyway. Taking the bone with him, he went back into the house, leaving a suddenly morose-looking Thor shut out in the yard for the time being.

  Making a mental note to give the dog a rawhide treat later, Chuck set the bone on the kitchen counter, went back to his office to retrieve the gun, and resumed his search of the house. He looked everywhere—in every room, every closet, and under every bed—and found nothing. As he’d suspected, the house was empty, but it made him feel better to verify it. And with the search concluded, he felt a sense of accomplishment. He could have waited for the law to arrive, but he’d taken matters into his own hands, protecting his family and property the way any real man should.

  After returning the gun to the lockbox, he went outside and joined his family on the front lawn, wincing when he saw Fawn Hightower standing with them. The woman had an arm around Karen’s waist. His weeping wife’s head was on her shoulder. A mischievous smile touched the corners of Fawn’s mouth when Chuck met her gaze.

  The smile broadened when Karen’s head lifted from her shoulder. “There he is. See, Karen, I told you he’d be fine.”

  Karen shrugged free of Fawn’s embrace and came running toward Chuck, throwing her arms around him as she slammed into him, nearly staggering him. Chuck put his arms around her and gently patted her back, whispering words of reassurance into her ear as he stared over her shoulder at Fawn.

  He kept staring at her as the kids crowded around their parents, babbling excitedly and peppering him with questions he didn’t yet know how to answer. Fawn’s smile faded, her expression taking on a nastier tinge now that no one else was looking at her.

  Then she turned away and went back across the street to her house. Rather than returning to the chair on the porch, she went inside and slammed the door behind her. A deep frown etched itself into Chuck’s features as the sound of sirens began to rise in the distance.

  8.

  Six days until Halloween

  Willow Springs, TN

  The creak of the leather swivel chair was embarrassingly loud as Sheriff Bob Lee settled his bulk into it. He grimaced as he stared across his desk at Pete Acker, who kept his expression neutral. Lee was grateful for the lack of visible reaction. The deputy was a friend. He knew how self-conscious Lee was about the perpetually mushrooming weight problem he couldn’t seem to solve.

  An apple sat at the edge of Lee’s desk. It was the one thing he would allow himself to eat until his chicken salad dinner later tonight. He picked it up and took a bite from it. The crunching sound it made as he chewed was another awkward noise. It seemed to fill the closed office. Lee put the apple down after just the one bite. He leaned back in the chair and folded meaty hands over his big belly.

  Acker glanced at the notepad in his lap as Lee’s chair made that horrendously loud creaking sound again. He looked up when it stopped. “Chuck Everly seemed a little squirrely to me.”

  Lee nodded. “That he did. You think he knows more than he’s letting on?”

  Acker shrugged and flipped his notepad shut. “I’ve been at this long enough to know when someone’s holding back on me. That look he got on his face when I asked him if he could think of anyone who would break into his house and do anything as plain fucking weird as that thing with the pumpkins…”

  Lee knew the look Acker was talking about well. Anyone who’d been in law enforcement any significant amount of time would know it. It was that subtle tightening of the features that occurred when one was asked an uncomfortable question. Lee had been otherwise occupied during the time Acker was taking Everly’s statement, but he could picture the look on the man’s face well enough.

  After trailing off a moment, Acker coughed and continued. “And it wasn’t just the look. When I asked him the question, his eyes flicked to the house across the street. It was just a split-second, but it happened. May not mean anything, but…”

  “But it might,” Lee said, nodding again. “We know who lives in the house across the street?”

  “Man named Hightower owns the place. Russ Hightower. His wife’s name is Fawn. They have two young children, Scott and Abby. The wife’s a real looker.”

  Lee cocked an eyebrow at this description of Fawn Hightower. Acker was possibly the most intuitive investigator he had. And he wasn’t a man to waste words. “Something going on between Everly and the neighbor lady, you think?”

  Acker spread his hands in a gesture of half-hearted uncertainty. “Hard to say. Got nothing but a hunch there.” He smiled. “But it’s a strong hunch.”

  “This woman or any other neighbors happen to notice any suspicious activity happening around the Everly place while the family was out?”

  “No.”

  Lee frowned. “Strange.”

  Acker’s smile abruptly disappeared. “Very strange. Lot of wide open space in that neighborhood and not many places for a bad guy to conceal himself or skulk around, which makes it even stranger. And even if Everly and the Hightower woman are carrying on in secret, it might not mean anything, though we’ll definitely want to follow up on it. Right now, though, I’m thinking the connection between Everly and Lloyd McAfee might be more meaningful.”

  Lee was already acquainted with this part of the story, having been present for the early part of the scene investigation at the Everly residence. Turned out Everly and McAfee had been childhood friends, a revelation any lawman worthy of wearing the badge would immediately recognize as the potential key to unlocking the mystery behind all the bizarre events of the day. Upon sensing their interest in the connection, Everly had turned evasive and anxious, insisting his former friendship with McAfee was irrelevant. According to Everly, he hadn’t talked to Lloyd in almost twenty years. There’d been a palpable note of disdain in his tone when speaking of the dead man. When pressed on that point, Everly dismissed the notion as nonsense, saying he and McAfee had merely grown apart.