Mostly Murder by Linda Ladd Read Free Book Online Page B

like, and he knew he’d blend into the shadows when he got into the house. Betsy was home alone. She had begged him to come over so he had told her he’d come by later, right after he was done with football practice. They hadn’t had sex yet so he didn’t want to scare her too bad too soon and risk her breaking up with him. But he loved her smooth little face and big scaredy-cat brown eyes.
    He had gotten her all up and terrified with some bugs and driving too fast and pretending the brakes wouldn’t work. She screamed and screamed, and then she’d punched him in the shoulder with her fist when she’d realized that he was lying about the brakes. It was so damn cool. He even liked how she hit him and then fought him some when he tried to console her. He got all excited when she was struggling with him. That was the truth, and he really liked that feeling. He wanted her to fight against him again. He wanted to hold her down and force her to do stuff that he’d always dreamed about doing to a girl.
    So he left the stadium, real excited, and drove by the community center to make sure her parents’ red Cadillac was still there. It was, so he drove to the woods behind her house and parked in some tall bushes. Then he crept through the darkness to her backyard. He found himself a little nervous, too, because if he got caught, they’d kick him off the football team, and he was really good and was going to win a scholarship to Tulane University. And he liked how all the people at school clapped him on the back and said things about his nice passes or his touchdown runs. The girls were all over him and wanted to wear his letter jacket, but he liked it too much to let anybody else wear it, or even try it on.
    Once he got into her backyard, the family’s beagle, named Buddy, smelled him right off and barked a little bit. But once Malice tossed him an open package of Oscar Mayer cheesy hot dogs and patted his head, the pooch ignored him and chowed down big time. So he moved stealthily and hunkered down under the family room window. Betsy was sitting inside on the couch, studying her algebra book. She was really smart in math, and helped him with his homework, which was another reason he liked her. But he didn’t love her. He loved making her scream, and that was about it.
    After slipping his black ski mask over his head and adjusting the eye holes, he pulled out the butcher knife he’d brought and got the back door key from under the flower pot on the steps. People were just so stupid to leave keys around like that. He would never do that, and he didn’t let his mom do it, either. He let himself inside, very quiet in his black sneakers. His girlfriend had the stereo on really loud, playing a song by the Rolling Stones. He liked those guys. They always had girls hanging all over them, like Betsy liked to do with him, but then when he tried something with her, she’d always push him away, like he was terrible for wanting to have sex with her. He grinned. She wasn’t going to push him away this time, no way.
    He approached her from the dining room, tiptoeing up behind her, not making a single sound. When he got right behind the sofa, he grinned to himself, and then he whispered her name in a low, threatening growl. When Betsy whirled around, she got that look on her face for a split second, the one that turned him on so much. It did this time, too. Then she screamed bloody murder and threw her book at him and headed for the front door. Very agile and athletic, he jumped over the couch after her and caught her before she could get out of the room. She fought him desperately, but he lifted weights and outweighed her by at least eighty or ninety pounds. She wasn’t all that hard to subdue, and he got her down and held both her hands over her head against the floor and sat on her stomach. She struggled and yelled, and then he hit her in the face. He hadn’t really planned to