“There you go. I knew it. As soon as I asked about that girl, and I’m using that term lightly, you’d start in on my personal life.”
“Do you have a personal life?”
She drove for a while longer, taking the street that led to Brockway. “I have a life, Anton.” She stopped in front of the house. “I know that might surprise you, but I have one. Any more than that is none of your business.” She got out of the car, and walked up to the house.
Anton caught up to her, as she led him around to the back of the house. “The father was put upstairs with the kids. I say put, because he was killed in the garage. His blood is all over the place out here.” She opened the side door to the garage.
“Whoa,” Anton said getting a look at the massive blood stain on the garage floor.
“According to CSI, he was hit in the back of the head with a heavy object. They found a wrench. It might be the culprit. It’s in evidence. That wasn’t what killed him, though.” She walked back to the side door, as Anton stood looking down at the blood stain where the crime scene cleanup team had tried their best, but the stain remained. “It was an awl.”
“An awl. It’s a small pointed tool thing that’s used to make holes in stuff, like leather or metal. Mr. Hill liked to work on old cars and metal stuff. An awl was stuck in the back of his neck severing the medulla oblongata. He was dead before he knew what was happening.”
Anton stood silently, and she knew he was thinking about something. “How long was he out here before being taken into the house?”
“That’s a damn good question. There was no blood pool in the bedroom. He was bled dry out here.”
Anton walked out of the garage and toward the back of the house. He stopped short, looking down at the ground by the edge of the back porch. “Look at this,” he said, going over to an area near the bushes on the side.
“He stood here,” he said, kneeling down and touching the ground. “See here, how it’s smooth. The rest of the ground is roughened. There was something here like a paver or a stone.”
“Why would he stand on a paver?”
Anton seemed to mull that over in his head. “I think he had blood on his shoes. There was a lot of blood in the garage. I bet you he stood on the paver and either cleaned his shoes off, or changed them so as not to leave tracks in the house. No tracks in the grass, though.”
“We had some rain a few days ago, so that would explain why there aren’t any tracks in the grass. So, he stood on the paver, and took it with him so he wouldn’t leave any shoe imprint? Okay. But a paver is heavy. I doubt he would be carrying a paver with him.”
“This dude is smart. He didn’t want the father walking in the house, so he killed him out here. Waited for him to bleed out, and then carried him inside. Why? And why didn’t the mother think anything was wrong with her husband not coming in from the garage for several hours?”
“According to the neighbors, Hill stayed out in the garage for extended periods working on his cars. It was his hobby. Or maybe she was already dead? Subdued? Incapacitated in some way?”
They walked into the house, ignoring the yellow tape draped across the entry. “There was nothing out of place in the house. It was as if he just walked in and walked out,” Aubrey said.
“He got in through the back door, right?” Anton asked, as Aubrey nodded. “This wasn’t some random killing for jollies by some psychopath. This ass had an agenda.”
“Killing was his agenda.”
“No. Listen, most fucked-in-the-head murderers are messy. They leave trails of their DNA all over the place because they aren’t thinking. It’s the thrill of the chase for them. They want us to catch them. You know, catch me if you can? Not this guy. He was meticulous and thorough. He made sure he left no trail, no trace. He used gloves. He waited until the father bled out before bringing him in. Maybe to have them all together, which shows—”
“Don’t you dare say compassion.”
Anton stared at her. “Maybe it was.”
She took him through the rest of the house, showing him the kids’ rooms. “The little boy wet the bed. There’re stains on the mattress that show he was a habitual bed wetter.”
“Was the bed wet?”
Aubrey frowned. The boy’s pajama pants didn’t test positive for urine, yet the bed did. “Yeah. CSI said it was probably from around the time he died. But his pants were dry, Anton.”
Anton nodded. “He came for the mother. That was the whole reason for him killing the kids and the father. It was to get her. Maybe she was alive while he was killing them. He needed everyone out of the way so he could get the mother without any problems. The boy more than likely peed in the middle of the night, got up to go into the bathroom”—he walked into the bathroom in the hall—“heard someone as he was changing his pants.”
“There were no pee-stained pajama pants in the bathroom.”
“That’s what I mean, Aubrey. This motherfucker is meticulous. He won’t leave any loose end.” He opened the laundry hamper, and leaned over it taking a whiff. “He took the motherfuckin’ pants! I smell urine in here. Right on the top.”
Aubrey leaned over the hamper and sniffed, nodding her head. “You’re right.”
“He came for the mother. She’s not gone. She’s missing.”
“We need to find the mother.”
How it happened and when it happened didn’t matter. When she thought about it later, she knew why it had happened. In one moment she and Anton were laughing together, and in the next, he was kissing her. And she was letting him.
It felt so good. So…natural. She knew his lips. His mouth. His tongue, as he stroked and teased inside her mouth. His arms pulled her close to his body, as their mouths plundered and pleasured each other. She knew every inch of that body. Every muscle, and every spot that turned him on. In her head, she was trying to tell herself to stop. But when Anton’s lips trailed kisses along her neck, she lost all rational thought.
She tugged on his shirt, trying to pull it off. Anton took his hand, pulling his shirt off in one motion from the back. Her hands ran along the smooth expanse of his chest. He was familiar and felt so good. Her mouth fell to his nipples, as she flicked her tongue over the hard nubs. He moaned out loud, taking control, and pulling her tank over her head.
His eyes traveled over her breasts overflowing her bra. She nodded, pulling the straps down her arms, before unhooking it from the back and tossing it aside.
He took her breasts in his hands, caressing, massaging, and lifting them to his mouth, as he bent his head to devour them. “Shit I missed your tits. G’damn, you have the best titties in the world,” he said, nuzzling his face between them, before taking a nipple into his mouth.
Tingles ran rampant through her body with what he was doing to her breasts. Only he could illicit such pleasure from her breasts. Not even Dante had the skills Anton was showing to her.
She struggled on the sofa, trying to remove her sweatpants. Anton helped her out of them by pulling both her sweatpants and her panties off at once. When she lay on the sofa naked, he stared down at her. His gaze slowly moving over her body and taking in all that she had to offer him.
She giggled in response to him pulling her down to the edge of the sofa, as he knelt on the floor. She knew what he was about to do, and anticipation filled her with renewed arousal.
He pulled her legs apart almost roughly, wearing a wicked smile as he gazed at her. When he looked down at her exposed pussy, his gaze turned to want. He ran his finger down her slit, making her wiggle and sigh. And when he bent his head, and licked along the path of his finger, her hand went to his head, and her hips moved the way she remembered he liked.
He made soft nuzzling sounds, and she joined him with her own, as he licked and toyed with her clit. His tongue trailed a path down to her opening, delving inside of her and making her body shudder.
“You better be prepared to make good on that,” she said breathlessly.
“Baby, I’m always prepared,” he said, kissing her deeply, as she felt him position his hard cock where his tongue had been. He teased her by pushing only the tip of his dick just inside of her pussy and then quickly pulling out.
“I will close the bank if you keep that up,” she said, gazing up at him.
“Tell me you want it, then.”
She reached behind him and grabbed his ass. “Fuck me,” she said as he kissed her deeply again.
She felt him push inside of her, and yelled out from feeling his hard shaft inside of her once again after over three years. She was drunk, but not too drunk that she couldn’t enjoy everything he was giving to her. His tempo was slow and deep, making her grab along his back and wrap her legs around his hips. He gazed down at her with each thrust he made, holding one of her legs in his arm.
“Yeah?” he asked her.
Aubrey nodded. “My turn,” she said, and he seemed to know what she meant as he lay on the sofa, letting her straddle him. She lifted her hips only long enough to put his cock inside of her again, and then began to grind her hips on him.
Anton’s hands went to her hips, grabbing handfuls of flesh. She worked him like she had a purpose. She knew exactly when he was at that point. That point that would curl his toes and have him yelling out into the room. She was almost there herself. Each time she ground her pelvis on him, his thick dick would hit that spot inside of her that made her see sparks in front of her eyes.
“Oh shit! Yes! Yes! Yes!” she yelled out, feeling her release build deep inside of her and spread out like a wildfire.
Anton made a feral sound, holding on to her hips, as he bowed his back. She felt the warmth of his cum fill her. And then she fell on top of him, satisfied and out of breath.