Read Online The Collie Murders: A Serial Killer Crime Thriller by Jared Paul - Free Book Online
Authors: Jared Paul
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reasons why she was able to take care of herself, but in the end, and she should have remembered this, Jon got his way. She just didn’t have the reserves to counter each one of his bazillion valid points.
“You coming inside, or do I have to drag you in?”
She actually didn’t know if she was going to come in. The idea of being inside of the house where David used to run around and play, the house where Jon had carried her over the threshold the night they were married. The memories were swirling around in her head and threatening to knock her over. Finally, and because she started feeling foolish just standing there, she walked inside.
The interior of the house was as she remembered it, right down to the curtains she’d picked out. The couch and loveseat were the same, just as the rug that said, “Welcome to our Family” was still sitting just inside the front door. It was like a museum dedicated to their life as it once had been.
“Want something to drink? I think I have a few beers in the fridge.”
Cory watched Jon move across the living room and into the kitchen and when he turned his head back at her for her answer, she shook her head. She could use a drink, but beer was not one of her indulgences. The stuff tasted like soap.
She walked over to the sofa and sat down, not knowing what to do with herself. It was uncomfortable here, regardless of the benefits to her safety, and she knew that this idea wasn’t going to work for long.
Jon caught Cory’s shift in mood as if it had been telegraphed to his brain. She wasn’t happy to be reminded of what their life had been like, shooting his hopes that she would realize how much she missed him and come back to him right out of the damn sky. He popped a tab to the beer he’d pulled from the fridge and joined Cory on the couch.
Jon wanted to talk about their encounter the night before, but as so many things he’d ruined by asking about them, he was hesitant to taint the memory with what she might say about it. For another thing, it probably wasn’t the best time. Cory had more than enough on her mind.
Cory was glad that Jon took the other side of the couch, because if he’d sat next to her, she might have another attack of hormones or whatever they were, and she’d jump him agai n not that she was ashamed of their limbs tangling with one another in the least.
She flinched as she felt the weight added to the couch shift in her direction. She assumed, since she wasn’t looking at him, that he’d gotten comfortable on his side, but if he thought to have a repeat performance of the heated event the night before she was going to have to stop him. Else that, or give in again and dig the emotions rumbling around in her stressed head an even deeper hole to live in. She risked a glance and saw that Jon had gotten up and was standing toward the edge of the couch headed back toward the kitchen.
Cory, to keep her mind off thinking anything, took her cell phone out of her coat pocket, which she’d just noticed she was still wearing, and checked her messages. Few people bothered to text her, since they knew she had little time to bother texting back, but nevertheless, there were people who left her little reminders of things she had to take care of.
The message staring up at her was not that of a person she recognized, and it was far from a friendly reminder.
Meet me at your place. I have another present for you!
Cory read over the message a few times, thinking each time that it might say something different or hold within it a little less darkness, but each time she let her eyes roam over the
“You coming inside, or do I have to drag you in?”
She actually didn’t know if she was going to come in. The idea of being inside of the house where David used to run around and play, the house where Jon had carried her over the threshold the night they were married. The memories were swirling around in her head and threatening to knock her over. Finally, and because she started feeling foolish just standing there, she walked inside.
The interior of the house was as she remembered it, right down to the curtains she’d picked out. The couch and loveseat were the same, just as the rug that said, “Welcome to our Family” was still sitting just inside the front door. It was like a museum dedicated to their life as it once had been.
“Want something to drink? I think I have a few beers in the fridge.”
Cory watched Jon move across the living room and into the kitchen and when he turned his head back at her for her answer, she shook her head. She could use a drink, but beer was not one of her indulgences. The stuff tasted like soap.
She walked over to the sofa and sat down, not knowing what to do with herself. It was uncomfortable here, regardless of the benefits to her safety, and she knew that this idea wasn’t going to work for long.
Jon caught Cory’s shift in mood as if it had been telegraphed to his brain. She wasn’t happy to be reminded of what their life had been like, shooting his hopes that she would realize how much she missed him and come back to him right out of the damn sky. He popped a tab to the beer he’d pulled from the fridge and joined Cory on the couch.
Jon wanted to talk about their encounter the night before, but as so many things he’d ruined by asking about them, he was hesitant to taint the memory with what she might say about it. For another thing, it probably wasn’t the best time. Cory had more than enough on her mind.
Cory was glad that Jon took the other side of the couch, because if he’d sat next to her, she might have another attack of hormones or whatever they were, and she’d jump him agai n not that she was ashamed of their limbs tangling with one another in the least.
She flinched as she felt the weight added to the couch shift in her direction. She assumed, since she wasn’t looking at him, that he’d gotten comfortable on his side, but if he thought to have a repeat performance of the heated event the night before she was going to have to stop him. Else that, or give in again and dig the emotions rumbling around in her stressed head an even deeper hole to live in. She risked a glance and saw that Jon had gotten up and was standing toward the edge of the couch headed back toward the kitchen.
Cory, to keep her mind off thinking anything, took her cell phone out of her coat pocket, which she’d just noticed she was still wearing, and checked her messages. Few people bothered to text her, since they knew she had little time to bother texting back, but nevertheless, there were people who left her little reminders of things she had to take care of.
The message staring up at her was not that of a person she recognized, and it was far from a friendly reminder.
Meet me at your place. I have another present for you!
Cory read over the message a few times, thinking each time that it might say something different or hold within it a little less darkness, but each time she let her eyes roam over the
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