Drained Read Online Free PDF Page A

held a bit of blood, but most of it had already drained into the basin under Brett’s watchful eye the night prior. Brett liked to keep the needles in overnight though the women generally drained within minutes of having them inserted. Becca was dead and had been that way for at least twelve hours.
    Brett pulled the needles from her neck first, then arms, then legs. He lay them inside the washbasin, where he would thoroughly clean them at another time. He turned and grabbed a bottle of bleach and a sponge from another shelf on the wall. He doused the woman’s body and began scrubbing, head to toe. When she was cleaned to his satisfaction, he rinsed her down to wash the bleach away. He took his old Polaroid camera from the shelf, snapped a photo, and pulled it from the camera. Brett shook it in his hand and set the camera back on the shelf. When the photo finished developing, Brett paper clipped it to the page he’d just taped to the wall.
    He turned and walked back upstairs to get ready for work, planning to dispose of her when he found a suitable time.

CHAPTER FIVE
    I walked in the front door of our red-brick Arlington townhouse. Karen and I had been a little sticker shocked by the cost of property in the area, so we were opting to rent prior to purchasing. I wasn’t the biggest fan of someone living attached to us, but I told myself it was temporary.
    “Porkchop!” I called.
    I heard thumping puppy feet and the scratching of bulldog nails on the wood floors of the second story. I heard his usual controlled fall down the steps. He turned the corner where the stairwell met the hallway before me. He slid, brindled butt first, into the wall as he turned the corner. His paws swiped off of the hardwood as he tried to gain traction running toward me down the hall. I knelt for my welcome-home greeting. He ran full out toward me, locked up the brakes a few feet short, and slid to a perfect stop in front of me. He licked and slobbered and barked as he received his petting. Then I stood and headed into the townhouse. Porkchop walked directly at my knee. “Come on. Outside,” I said.
    I opened the sliding glass door at the back of the house and let him out into the fenced-in backyard, leaving the door cracked open. I knew he would return when he finished doing his business. I tossed my car keys and phone onto the kitchen table, and I caught the time, a bit after six thirty. Karen would be home any minute.
    Porkchop reappeared from outside and came to my feet.
    I reached down and gave him a scratch behind his ears. He stared back.
    “Were you a good boy today?” I asked. “Let’s go find out before your mother gets home.”
    I did a quick lap around the lower level while Porkchop followed. I didn’t see any puddles on the wood or anything chewed on. None of the boxes stacked in the corners looked disturbed.
    “Halfway there, dog,” I said.
    I headed upstairs to give the second story a once-over. Porkchop raced me up the steps and won. I looked over the master bedroom, office, and spare bedroom—again, dog-trouble free.
    I stopped in the hall after checking the main upstairs bathroom and looked down at Porkchop. “Well, holy shit. You made it through the day without doing anything naughty. I’m impressed.”
    He looked at me and cocked his head to one side.
    “Okay, come on, let’s go get you some dinner with a few treats sprinkled on top.”
    He didn’t respond.
    “It’s dinner time.”
    Porkchop spun in a circle around my legs. He knew the words “dinner time.” He liked dinner time.
    “Do you want some treats?” I asked.
    He about went back-over-front, tearing down the stairwell toward the kitchen.
    I headed for the steps, went back downstairs, and fed the dog. The food was vanishing before my eyes in a few seconds.
    “Chew,” I said.
    He didn’t.
    The sound of the front door opening and closing caught my ear and the dog’s. I left the kitchen and turned into the hall. Porkchop was already at my wife’s