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.CHAPTER 13My blood froze.What in the world? An autographed picture of a serial killer? I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.My gaze scoured the rest of the items there.A hair sample.A dirty sock.A postcard-sized painting of the sunrise.I glanced at the initials at the bottom of the artwork.MJ.Milton Jones? He’d painted this? I’d bet anything that the hair and sock was his as well.This wasn’t good.It wasn’t good at all.In the corner, I saw an article that highlighted Riley’s accomplishments as a prosecutor.My instinct to run became even greater.I had to get out of here.I turned around, ready to flee.Before I could take the first step, I heard the front door open.Rose was back.Or someone else.Someone worse.Someone like Milton Jones.My eyes darted around the room.There was only one place to hide in the barren space.The closet.I quickly tiptoed to the door, opened it, and crammed myself into the space.I hadn’t pulled the door fully closed when I heard someone step into the room.I pushed myself back into the dark recesses of the closet.There must be some clothes in the small, musty space.Maybe some boxes.The smell of mothballs and dust filled my nostrils.The floorboards groaned in the room.My gaze refused to leave the sliver between the door and its frame.It offered me a glimpse into the room.Rose appeared.I could hardly breathe.What would I do if I was caught in here? How would I explain it?For that matter, who cared about explaining things? How was I going to get out of this one alive?Was Rose a serial killer’s sadistic helper? She would have had the key to my apartment.Maybe she’d seen that Luminol delivery come and guessed that I might use it at a crime scene.Maybe those messages had been her idea.Rose stopped at the bulletin board and stared at all the memorabilia there for a moment.She said something under her breath and giggled.Then she began pacing.I tried to make out what she was saying, but I had no luck.It was all jumbled and low.As she walked closer to the closet, I pressed myself back.The floor let out a telltale squeal.Rose stopped pacing and stared at the closet.Oh, no.I had to hide.Now.I pulled something from a hanger in front of me.A coat? It wasn’t big enough.I grabbed behind me again.That’s when I saw a hand.A limp, lifeless hand.Before I realized what I was doing, I screamed.***“Who’s there?” Rose asked.Her eyes were wide and her gaze fastened on the closet.I couldn’t hide in the small, enclosed space with a dead body any longer.Besides, Rose knew I was there.The scream had made that much apparent.Staying here would only delay the inevitable.Now I had to fight for my life.And get this corpse off me.I darted from my hideout, practically falling in front of Rose onto the sticky carpet.I pulled myself to my feet and backed against the wall.Rose stared at me like I was the bad guy.“Miss St.Claire.What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded calm.Eerily calm.“Why are you in my house? In this room?”“Dead.Body.” I pointed behind me.“Dead body? What are you talking about?”“The bigger question is why do you have a dead person in your closet?”“In my closet?” She let out a small laugh.“That’s just Earl.”Just Earl? She really was sick and twisted.“Who’s Earl?”“He’s my CPR dummy.” One of her eyebrows rose toward the ceiling.I turned around.A lifeless arm reached from the closet.A lifeless.plastic arm?Sure enough, that hadn’t been a real hand.My mind had been playing tricks on me.My adrenaline had gotten the best of me.Not my proudest moment.But still, that didn’t mean that Rose wasn’t a sicko killer.I pointed at her.“You’re helping Milton Jones.”Her face went pale.“You don’t understand.You’re jumping to conclusions.”“What other conclusion could I possibly jump to? You have Milton Jones’ stuff hanging on your wall.” I nodded toward the bulletin board.“I can explain.”We began pacing around each other in a circle, each hugging the edge of the walls and sizing each other up like boxers in a ring, waiting to see who would make the first move.“Explain then.”“First you tell me why you’re hiding in my closet.” She was questioning me?I sighed.“Because my AC isn’t working.Your front door wasn’t latched.I thought you might have had a heart attack or something, so I came inside to check on you.I found this little shrine instead.”“Likely story,” she muttered.“Your turn.”She shrugged.“I’m a collector.”“What does that mean?”“It means that I collect souvenirs from serial killers, especially Milton Jones.” She circled more.“Why would you do that?” Seriously.I couldn’t comprehend this.I’d seen some crazy things.I’d heard some crazy stuff.But never this.“I find killers fascinating.Okay? It’s my dirty little secret.”“Because you’re one of them.You’re a killer.”She blanched.“Of course not.I’m no killer.This is no different than watching those shows on TV.People dress like killers from the movies—Jason from Friday the 13th or Freddy Krueger—and no one bats an eyelash.”“You’re helping killers profit off of their crimes.How do you think the victims’ families feel about that?”“It’s a harsh reality.I can agree to that.”“So why do you do it?”“It’s just a hobby.Besides, you clean crime scenes.Don’t tell me you have no fascination with crime and murder yourself.”I wanted to deny it, but could I? I wasn’t sure.Rose was messing with my mind.“Did you take Clarice?” I wished I had my gun.A knife.A lifeline from Regis.Something!She stopped circling for a moment.“Who’s Clarice?”“Have you been helping Milton Jones?” I wasn’t buying her story.Not yet.“There’s no way he’s in Virginia yet.That’s a long trip across the country.” She sounded sincere, like she really didn’t know.Maybe she was just a good actress.“That’s what I thought, too.But I’ve seen him.”Her eyes widened.Not with horror.With infatuation.“Really?”“I’m still not convinced that you’re not guilty here, Rose.Acting like a schoolgirl with a crush isn’t helping your case.”The sparkle left her eyes.“I’m only guilty of being obsessive.I’m no killer.”“That’s what they all say.Let’s call the police.Let them sort this out.”She raised her hands in the air.“Sure thing.” She slipped her phone out of her pocket.“In fact, that sounds like a great idea.”CHAPTER 14“Why were you in her house again?” Detective Adams asked me.I stood on the lawn in front of Rose’s place.The sun beat down on me, and I tried to ignore the trickle of sweat that started on my back.“When I found the door unlatched, I thought something was wrong.I just wanted to check and make sure she was okay.”“And when she came inside, why did you hide in the closet instead of letting her know you were there?”I sighed, fighting exasperation.“Because she had mementos of Milton Jones hanging in her room.That kind of freaked me out, to say the least
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