Dark Screams, Volume 1 by Brian James Freeman Read Free Book Online

nodded, her gaze down. Gavin unlocked the cuff on her leg. As he did, she reached into her pocket for something nestled deep in the folds. She pulled it out, hidden in her palm.
    “It’s going to be okay,” Gavin said, reaching to hug her.
    She accepted his embrace. “Yes, it is,” she said, and stabbed the penknife into his throat.
    —
    Kara huddled outside the cabin with a blanket wrapped tight around her. Red and blue lights cut through the night, bouncing off the trees. More lights bobbed across the ground as the crime-scene techs made their way into the house. She glanced at the ambulance. The lights were off now, bodies being loaded into the back.
    “It’s all right,” whispered the older female officer beside her. “You’re safe now.”
    Kara managed a twist of a smile. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
    She’d taken the cell phone from Gavin’s pocket and called the police. When they arrived, she’d given her story, how Ingrid had been the victim of a stalker. A stalker who’d claimed to be the brother of a boy Ingrid killed six years ago. Except it wasn’t the brother. It was Kara’s own husband. Her
abusive
husband—her medical records would back that up. He’d gone crazy when Ingrid reentered Kara’s life. Accused them of having an affair. This had been his revenge. He’d played the stalker, kidnapped and beaten his wife and her supposed lover, and planned to murder both and blame it on Ingrid’s “stalker.” Kara had stabbed him with his own penknife and escaped, but not before Ingrid paid the ultimate price.
    “Kerry?” a voice said.
    She looked up to see her neighbor walking toward them, Melody in her arms, the sleepy toddler blinking as she looked about. Kara smiled—a real smile now—and reached out, and the woman settled Melody into her arms. The officer and neighbor walked away to leave mother and daughter together. When they were gone, Kara leaned over Melody’s ear.
    “There’s always a price, baby,” she said. “But never pay more than you owe.”

Magic Eyes
    Bill Pronzini
November 8—Early Morning, Pre-cocktail
    My name is Edward James Tolliver.
    I am thirty-seven years old.
    I was born and raised in Fresno, California.
    I attended UC Berkeley and graduated from Haas School of Business with a degree in accounting.
    I used to be a fairly successful CPA.
    I have no living relatives.
    I did not kill my wife.
    I am not crazy.
    I was married to Lorna for eleven wonderful years, I loved her very much, I don’t care what the judge and jury said I don’t care what Dr. Hilliard or anyone else believes I don’t belong in this goddamn asylum I am not a murderer I am not I am NOT NOT NOT insane—
    Calm.
    Remain calm.
    That’s what everybody on staff here keeps saying. That’s the reason for the daily drug cocktails. Patients must remain calm and in control at all times for the well-being of themselves and their fellow inmates.
    All right. I’m calm. Just a teensy flare of temper there, that’s all. To which I have every right, given the circumstances.
    Where was I? Yes.
    Now is the time for all sane patients to do their doctor’s bidding.
    Even if they don’t want to. And I don’t want to. I am going on record here, Dr. Hilliard, that you’re forcing me against my will to engage in an unnecessary and pointless activity. I’m an accountant, it’s numbers I’m comfortable with, not words. I told you that. I find it difficult to think of sentences to string together on paper; I told you that, too. And my handwriting has never been very good and the scratching of pen on notepad makes me twitchy. But you wouldn’t let me work on a computer because their use is restricted and I suppose you’re afraid I might try to sneak an email through to somebody. Who would I write to? All my former friends have deserted me; my court-appointed attorney doesn’t want anything more to do with me. I’m all alone in the world except for my fellow sufferers in this miserable hospital for the