I hit the driveway, already punching numbers on my cell phone as I ran for my car. All these years later, I didn’t know his number, so I did the sensible thing and dialed the sheriff’s office. Then, the second I got someone on the phone: “I’m looking for Sheriff Wayne. My name is Danielle Burton and I need to speak with him immediately.”

Chapter Thirty

CHAPTER
THIRTY

Blood. D.D. noticed it first in the common area. It splattered across one table, dotted a nearby wall, then trailed down the carpeted hall.

“Jesus Christ,” D.D. breathed. She’d been wrong. They didn’t have until six p.m. The evildoer had already struck, while she’d been chattering away in Admin. Shit.

“The kids,” Karen exclaimed immediately. “Where are the kids?”

Just then, another rage-filled scream, high and piercing from down the hall: “No, no, no. Get away. I will kill you. I will EAT YOUR EYEBALLS!”

D.D. and Karen bolted toward the sound, making it partly down the hall before drawing up short. A bathroom loomed to the right. The door was open and an older girl with huge dark eyes and lank brown hair stood in front of the sink, holding a pair of scissors and dripping blood. Outside the bathroom, an older MC was positioned with his hands outstretched, as if to block the girl’s escape.

“Don’t fucking touch me! I’ll punch you in the nuts. I’ll rip off your penis!” The shrieks continued farther down the hall. D.D. shook her head in confusion. So far, she heard one extremely pissed-off young boy, and she saw one very bloody young girl. What the hell?

“Come on, Aimee,” the MC was crooning as D.D. and Karen approached. “Time to hand over the scissors. Everything’s all right. Just take a deep breath and put the scissors down. Nothing we can’t handle here, right? You and me, a few of your favorite coloring books—”

“I WILL DRINK YOUR BLOOD!” the distant boy roared.

Aimee held up her left arm and, deliberately, dragged the blade of the scissors down her forearm. A thin line of red bloomed across her skin. She stared at it with rapt fascination. More lines covered both arms, her cheeks, the exposed column of her throat. Her skin looked like a crazy quilt, seamed with stitches of blood.

A violent crash from the end of the hallway. Something heavy and wooden smashing against a wall. “DON’T TOUCH ME DON’T TOUCH ME DON’T TOUCH ME.”

Aimee jerked toward the sound, then promptly sliced open her collarbone.

“Jesus Christ, get the damn scissors,” D.D. commanded. “What are you waiting for?”

Karen, however, placed a quieting hand on her shoulder.

“Ed?” the nurse manager asked softly.