Truth or Dare Read Online Free PDF Page A

that it gave him a thrill to see that. He had expected it, of course; in fact, he had imagined it would be one of the more pleasant by-products of his decision to embark on this course of action in the first place. But he hadn’t expected it to be so enjoyable. Not to mention the delicious trembling in his body as the woman and child had been fatally penetrated.
    He replayed those few seconds in his mind again and again, feeding off them. Darren’s expression, the torment as he struggled to reach his decision, then the emotions fighting for prominence on his features once he had done so. Self-loathing battling it out with self-preservation. Sorrow with stoicism. Horror with acceptance. Then, finally, disbelief giving way to dread acceptance. And harrowing, aching loss.
    Beautiful.
    Righteous vengeance. Perfect. Even more perfect than he had imagined.
    The shiver that had run through him in that moment, the power he had felt as he delivered justice – a justice most believed to be beyond reach or impossible to resolve – was palpable. Thrillingly palpable.
And he had made it happen
.
    Once Darren had made his decision his woman had stared at him, terrified beyond rational thought, unable to believe that her man could condemn her like that, how the world could be so wrong. He should have felt something for them as he watched that dumb show play out. Sorrow. Regret. Something like that. But he felt nothing. The woman had taken up with Darren. Had his child. Stuck with him. It was all her fault and she had to take the consequences of her actions. Just like Darren. He hadn’t killed her. Darren had.
    Darren had closed his eyes as the crossbow was fired. Then screamed and kept on, screaming and screaming and screaming, until he had no breath, no voice left.
    After that it had been a simple matter of getting out as quickly as possible. Covering his tracks, removing his traces, and then off. He wasn’t stupid. He knew they would hunt him down for what he had done. But he wouldn’t make it easy for them. He would provide no clues, no help. And in the meantime, he would talk to them. Open up a dialogue with his pursuers so they could understand what he was doing. Empathise, even. After all, weren’t they supposed to be on the same side when it came to justice?
    The song finished, the needle spinning, jumping, spinning again. Stuck in a groove.
    He crossed to the jukebox. It was a thing of beauty. A Rock-ola Princess 435. Perfect. He pressed the manual override; the arm returning the needle to its resting position, switching off. He scanned the song titles. So much stuff on there, so many of his favourites. But nothing more that he wanted to hear. Usually, music did the trick, got into his head, his heart, kept everything at bay. But for the last few days all he had thought of was Darren and his fate. It had consumed him.
    He put on the TV, flicking to a twenty-four-hour news channel, checked the laptop next to it at the same time. Smiled. His handiwork was just beginning to appear. Vague stories, no details emerging. Just pictures of a white-plastic shrouded building that he knew very well, confused reporters standing in front of it. That gave him a thrill. He knew more than the news crews, than the general public. Than the police. He knew everything.
    He crossed to the window, opened the curtains. Sunlight transformed the room. He looked around. With all the old furniture and antiques, not to mention the scale models on every available shelf, it was like living in a museum. Or a mausoleum. But it was the way he liked it. He had his jukebox. And more importantly, his job.
    No. More than a job. A calling.
    Darren’s face would appear on the news soon. Then they would work it out. What had happened. How justice had been served. And with that realisation the thrill, he thought sadly, would leave him.
    He knew what he had to do. Smiled at the thought.
    He was just getting started.

7
    M arina Esposito stared at the young woman