Come Kill Me
Spencer came to a stop at the curb. The sound of dueling lawnmowers and rustling trees filtered through his rolled-up windows. He frowned at the slow-swaying shadows of palm trees that fell across the narrow residential street and took a deep breath. Even after all this time, he still had to fight against the urge to drive away. He tried to convince himself that if he weren’t here, there was no way anyone would get hurt. But he knew that was a lie. Bad things happen, whether or not he’s around. It was an obvious truth, evidenced by the scene unfolding in front of the million-dollar home he had just arrived at in Manhattan Heights. He didn’t cause this. It had nothing to do with him. But someone was still dead. Not just dead. Murdered. In a most heinous way.
