Evergreen (a suspenseful murder mystery) Read Online Free PDF

with the only person Mary had ever loved.
     
    Before she could stop herself she had barged into the room, snarling like a rabid dog at the bed as the mound shifted and jived to the rhythm of rotten adulterous sex. She could hear the groans; see the pulsating vibrations of their bodies as her sister ground on top of him.
     
    Mary was breathing heavily, grinding her teeth, flaring her nostrils. He hadn’t felt this much emotion since her mother was arrested, when she yelled at the back of the police van, screamed at herself in the mirror, blamed herself, and then broke down in tears. There would be no tears this time, just pure, undulated anger. Revenge.
     
    “You bitch!” she screamed, shooting spittle over the bed, over her chin.
     
    She grabbed the covers, ripped them off the adulterous pair, prepared to launch herself at the naked, writhing mass of flesh.
     
    She stopped herself. Her sister was naked, positioned on top of Matty in a sexual pose, but she wasn’t having sex with him. She was dead. A large wound gaped through her chest, the blood still seeping out. She saw it then; saw what she had failed to see before. The blood was everywhere; it had seeped into the mattress, soaked through and dripped onto the floor by the head of the bed.
     
    Matty was underneath Aileen, his once handsome face now a collage of blood, Aileen’s blood. He was groaning, gurgling, he was still alive. The strike that had penetrated Aileen’s heart had also hit Matty, opening a wound below his rib cage. His face was covered in her blood, his body a mixture of both her blood and his. The last of his life was fading from his radiant eyes, she caught a glimpse as his soul drifted away, gave him a pitying, desperate, sorrowful look.
     
    She threw herself onto the pair. Onto her sister who, although a whore, she still loved; onto her future husband who wouldn’t be able to give her the life she wanted. Then she remembered the bang, the heavy thud that had brought her into the caravan.
     
    She peeled away, her hands and clothes soaked with the blood of the former lovers. She turned and saw their killer standing behind her. She couldn’t see his face but she saw his eyes, saw the hatred and the thrill in the glimmering orbs before he killed her.
     
     
    9
     
    For a man who had returned home to find his son murdered in his own bed, swarmed by the blood and bodies of two teenage girls and left to rot between crimson soaked sheets, Aidan M cCleary didn’t seem all that upset. Patrick had never witnessed the big man cry, he was too macho to ever let his feelings show and rarely expressed any heightened emotion other than anger, but not crying at the death of your own child crossed a line that Patrick couldn’t understand.
     
    Aidan didn’t help them take the bodies away, didn’t speak as he watched them wrap the corpses in bin bags and cardboard before loading them onto wheelbarrows like medieval plague victims on their way to a mass grave. He stared distantly at his sons bobbing head as it rolled away, hanging over the back of the barrow, but he didn’t offer a final goodbye, didn’t throw himself at the cold, dead features to try for one last hug, one last kiss.
     
    He seemed to have little or no interest in whatever had gone on. Patrick put it down to shock, told himself that it was to be expected, but he doubted himself. He had seen a different side to Aidan over the last few days, a side that he didn’t like. He had always known there was an angry, impulsive man hiding behind that big protective facade, but this was something else.
     
    He didn’t ask what happened, but Patrick told him anyway, speaking to his cold profile as he watched the community lend a helping hand in cleaning the blood and bodies from his home.
     
    “I’m no detective, but it looks like the killer interrupted a threesome. It seems your kid was getting lucky,” Patrick winced as he spoke, already regretting it. “Or he was with Aileen and they were