The Puppeteer

Ferrara

Quiet enveloped the house, as usual, the dim lighting casting it into an eerie mood and semi-darkness.

I swiped the keycard against the door and punched in the security code, before running my biometrics through the system.

People thought I was paranoid as fuck? They hadn't been here yet.

A familiar aroma hit my senses as soon as I stepped into the house, my eyes darting to the lone figure facing the window.

"It's not yet the time of the month, you should have called."

The voice was almost deceptively lonely.

I took a seat on the couch and crossed my legs, drumming my fingers against my thighs.

"But you knew I would be here, so I will cut to the chase. You did that to the lieutenant, didn't you?"

Slim fingers traced the windows as the head slanted to the side, silence thickening the air around us.

Finally, I received a reply, "he found out. Has he been pronounced dead yet?"

I sucked in a deep breath, inhaling that familiar fragrance that was deceptively soothing.