Page 52 of Burn For Me

“No, no, no, Dad, please,” I begged. I grabbed his arm and snarled at the man—then my eyes snapped open.

“Ow! Derek, wake up. That hurts.” I looked at my hand, which was crushing the life out of the fragile arm in my grasp and then into Dora’s pain-filled face. She was on her knees beside the couch, fear in her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I let go of her arm, yanking my hand away like I was burnt. “Shit, Dora, I was dreaming, I….” She cradled her arm to her chest, her kind eyes spilling tears.

“It’s fine. I just need ice.” When she made to stand, I jumped up to help, but she winced away from my touch, her eyes avoiding mine. She shuffled away, but instead of going to get ice, she walked down the hall to the bathroom.

“Shit.” I looked down at the palm of my hand and shook my head before making my way to the bathroom. My knuckles rapped against the wood. “Dora, please let me see your arm. I feel really bad. You know I would never hurt you on purpose.” I could hear her soft sobs on the other side of the door, and an emotion that I hadn't felt since Adalyn’s death roared to the surface. Guilt. It gnawed at my gut, making me feel like the roast beef from earlier was about to come back up.

“It’s okay, Derek. I’ll be fine. I just need some time alone. You can go do what you need to get done.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m really sorry, Dora, like really, really sorry,” I said before waiting for her to say something further, but when she didn’t emerge or say anything else, I laid my head against the wood and sighed. Pushing away from the door, I made my way outside and hopped into the truck. I would make it up to Dora later. Right now, I had a doctor to visit.

Once back at the house, I settled into preparation mode. Though I’d slept longer than I had intended, I still had lots of time to get my go-bag organized. Today was a day of reconning.

By midnight, I was stepping out of the tree line that I’d been to so many times now that it felt like home and slipping into the doctor’s small shed. Turning on the surveillance app on my phone, I watched as the doctor came up from the basement carrying a basket of clean laundry before disappearing with it upstairs.

The four days hadn’t done anything to improve Dr. Wallace’s appearance. He looked just as disheveled as before, and his beard was a solid inch longer than the last time I remembered seeing it. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to recall anything from those four lost days, but it was a complete blank. Trying to remember just made me feel vaguely woozy.

Annoyed, I shook off the lingering effects of the fruitless attempt and checked the thermometer I’d brought to read the temperature of the air. I couldn’t have my load going off prematurely—I snickered at the stupid joke.

In this area, it was normal for cool air to move in for the night only to be replaced by an oppressive heat that made it feel like you’d decided to leave the house wearing soaking wet clothes. I often wondered why the fuck anyone bothered to dry their clothes. We were all drenched after twenty minutes out in the heat of the day. Shaking my head, I refocused on the task at hand.

The temperature was a blissful seventy-nine outside. Perfect. Smiling widely, I checked the knife at my waist before pulling my mask in place and making sure that everyone in the neighborhood was asleep, or at least out of the way. A couple of the houses still had a single light on, but no one was wandering around outside. Darting out from my hiding spot, duffel bag in hand, I squatted down as I reached the air conditioner, which was sitting idle in the cool night air.

First, I needed to disable the cooling agent, and I pulled out pliers to snip the tube that supplied the cool air from the coils. The key to this was to have them blow only hot air—it was the only way that the present I’d left in the ductwork would get hot enough. If left running like this for very long, the whole thing would burn out, but it would run plenty long enough for what I had planned.

Job completed on the first unit, I put the side panel back on and ran over to the next house in line to do the same thing to that air conditioner. It didn’t take too long for all the houses in the row to be ready for the final phase. I ran like a track star through the shadows until I was outside of Dr. Wallace’s sliding back door.

I checked on the good doctor again, but the house was dark this time, and the only audible sound was the soft rumbling of what I assumed was snoring. The doctor most certainly didn’t seem to care that Jason was dead despite his apparent panic right after Jason had spouted his theories. Maybe he somehow actually didn’t know Jason was dead, though it would be hard not to unless they couldn’t identify the body. I shook my head. I couldn’t worry about that right now.

What if it’s a trap? My hand stilled as I reached into the black bag at the whisper from the voice in my head. What if it’s a trap and they’re going to take you to prison where you’re trapped in a different cage?

As long as Dr. Wallace died, I didn’t really care if it was a trap. If I died inside with him, I would be at peace with that decision.

Pulling out the glass cutter and suction cup from the duffel bag made it feel a whole lot like I was in a spy movie. I’d found a place on the internet that had millions of videos with everything you could imagine. They showed you anything you’d ever wanted to know and many things you wished you never saw. A blessing and a burden on the creators, I’m sure. Truly a blessing for me.

Setting the suction cup, I did exactly what I’d practiced doing numerous times on the old glass panes that rested against the side of the barn. The sound of the cutter scoring the glass was sharp but didn’t last long as I drew a circle around the suction cup. With a bit of pressure, the circle of glass popped free. Pulling the piece away, I stuck my hand inside the hole and unlocked the door.

Dr. Wallace probably thought he was safe with his fancy security equipment, but the problem was that I’d already been in the house, and that meant I’d already taken down the pin code for the security system. As soon as I pulled open the door, it started to beep, and I darted up the lower stairs to the front door to punch in the code to disarm the system.

Gripping my knife I listened for a sign of anyone moving in the house, but all was quiet. My heart pounded a little harder at the prospect of my goal being so close. I allowed the sensation of the hunt to fill, excite me, and push me toward my goal. I didn’t leave the contents of any room to chance and slipped into each and every one to check for anyone unexpected before moving on.

The soft rumble I’d heard on the phone filtered down the stairs the closer I got to the bottom step. The carpet was plush and soft underfoot, exactly how I’d always pictured the carpet in a house like this would be. Numerous pictures of Dr. Wallace and his family hung from the walls. The trophy wife, with her wavy brunette hair and perfect tan, had a bright smile full of bright white teeth that practically glowed in every image. The daughter, on the other hand, didn’t look as happy. She looked like her father and even had an identical scowl on her face.

The place was extremely large. There was absolutely no reason that a family of three needed a house with seven fucking bedrooms. Were they planning on renting the things out? If they got bored with the room they were in, did they move around from room to room? Everything was over the top, overdone, and, much like the man himself, a pretty lie on top of something ugly buried beneath the surface.

Each space I searched was empty. Nothing moved, yet the anticipation before entering each room had the blood pounding hard in my veins. Finally reaching the owner’s suite, I stuck my head inside, and there he was. Dr. Wallace was lying face down on the bed, spread eagle in navy-colored sleep pants, with an empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.

I slunk across the room, tempted to use my blade and end the job this minute, but the darkness twisted around my soul and screamed that it wasn’t punishment enough.

Kneeling, I stared directly into the face of the man that had controlled my every move for the last nine years. The man that had fed me drugs like they were fucking candy, and the man that had cost me the only precious thing in my life.

It was his fault that Jim had come to my room that night, and it was his fault that I’d gone to such extremes to escape. I may have added the fuel to the fire that stole Adalyn from me, but it was this man that lit the match.