A/N: Hello again everyone! I'm back with a new update! A huge thank you to everyone that read last chapter!
winterschild11: Yeah, I try and slip in some Kames whenever I can :P Jett's definitely gotten into James' head a bit, unfortunately. But yes, Kendall meeting the parents is going to be very interesting to say the least ;)
Side1ways: Aww, thank you so much! Only time will tell if it's the beginning of the end for Kames, but Kendall bailing on James really hurt my Kames heart a bit. And I'm glad you enjoyed The Deal! :D
I hope everyone enjoys the new chapter!
"Luce, this is the Bates Motel."
She scoffed through the earpiece. "Stop being such a drama queen. It can't be that bad."
"All that's missing is a crack of thunder and creepy music." Even as he said the words, Lucy hummed something off-key and unnerving. "You are such a-"
"I'm starting the recording."
Bitch. Kendall shifted his car into the park and stepped out of the driver's side. "Addendum to active Internal case MI-622. I'm at Blake Patterson's childhood home to see if we can find any evidence linking him to the deaths of Agent Wainwright and her husband. The hospital is skeptical of the theory that he's been leaving his room, but sightings of him in the corridors have stopped since we introduced the muting bracelet."
That didn't rule out an accomplice, however. It probably wasn't the best idea to just walk up the stairs and ring the bell.
Kendall made his way to the front door, avoiding the broken stone walkway. The porch was just as dilapidated. Rotten wood sagged under its own weight, and the peeling paint disintegrated at his touch. And sure enough, his foot sank into the step. That was it, he was going around back.
"The home shows signs of disrepair, which is in line with the amount of time he's been undergoing treatment." Around the corner of the house, a tall wooden gate blocked access to the backyard. A few extra inches. That was all he'd ever wanted. It wasn't as though he wanted to play basketball or anything. Well, now he knew who to blame.
Fortunately, there was a plastic milk crate shoved up against the house. Kendall yanked it out of the clutches of a knot of weeds to push it up to the gate. It barely have him enough height to reach over the top and undo the latch.
The backyard was a jungle of overgrown grass and dead plant matter. Should've brought a machete. The deck seemed to be in better shape than the porch and Kendall didn't fear quite so much for his life as he mounted it to get to the back door.
He checked the lock. Four pin. Easy. He pulled his picks and set to work on the lock. It was as old as the rest of the house and he was inside in less than a minute. The decor was straight out of his childhood, faux wood paneling and wall-to-wall brown shag carpet.
"Hey, Luce. You know that weird, musty smell a house gets after it's been empty for a while? This place doesn't smell that way." That was promising. The narrow hallway led straight into the kitchen. Heavy drapes covered most of the windows, leaving small slits of sunlight to dimly light the home's interior. Even if someone had been inside, between the high fence and the curtains, none of the neighbors would have seen anything. "This place looks like someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it look unoccupied." He opened the old-looking fridge. "But they should've been more careful. There's a carton of milk on here that hasn't expired yet." Fast food boxes littered the shelves, haphazardly organized. Most of them seemed recent, but there was a definite funk drifting up from one of the pizza boxes. "Whoever's living here isn't particularly good housekeeper." There was nothing in the freezer except a few empty ice-cube trays.
He continue onward. The cupboards held the usual assortment of mismatched plates and cutlery-nothing really interesting-and the rest of the main floor was similarly barren. Heavy sheets covered all the furniture, ghosts still and sullen in the daylight.
"Yay! Time to head downstairs. Ten bucks says there are bodies stacked in the cellar."
"You're such an optimist, Ken."
Nothing happened when he flicked the light switch at the top of the basement stairs. It was unbelievably dark down there. "This is getting too Blair Witch for me."
"Sissy."
Rolling his eyes, Kendall pulled out his flashlight. Tentatively, he took the first step. It creaked under the weight of his foot, but held. He eased himself down the stairs, the smell of soil and rotting leaves hitting him hard. The air was frigid from the lack of insulation. The stairs took a sharp turn from the landing, and opened up farther down, obscuring any possible light from the dim hallway behind him. Ducking under an unfinished overhang to get a better view of the space, he swept the room with the industrial-strength beam. There was a single furnace and hot-water heater, but the rest of the area was all soft-packed dirt.
"Doesn't look like anyth-" He stopped himself when he saw the small mound of dirt in the far corner of the room. "Never mind. There's something buried down here."
"The body you expected?"
"Not unless he murdered Tinker Bell." He moved down the remaining steps.
Footprints on the floor led to the miniature burial site. He knelt on the last step to get a better look at them, though they'd caved in with age. "In the basement floor, there are footprints in the soil. I'd say men's size eleven or twelve. No distinctive tread or identifying marks to indicate brand."
He crossed the room, the soft earth sucking his feet with every step. He stuck the butt of the flashlight in his mouth to free his hands and knelt down. He dug in, pushing aside large clumps of loose-packed soil to dig up whatever had been hidden. And so help me, if it's a dead pet…
Was that someone upstairs?
Grabbing the flashlight out of his mouth, he killed the light. The entire room dropped into darkness, save for the bare blue light flashing in his ear. Breathing through his mouth, he eased himself to his feet, listening. The great thing about old houses is that you could hear pretty much everything.
It came again. The creaking of a floorboard. Almost silent.
"Lucy?" His voice was a bare whisper. "I've gotta go offline. There's someone else in the house." Before she could respond, he switched off the earpiece, unnerved by the complete blackness that followed. He squeezed the hard plastic flashlight as he waited for another sound.
It came again. There was definitely someone on the main floor. And they were right overhead.
He pulled his gun free of its holster and flicked off the safety. Hopefully, he wouldn't need it.
Fuck. He'd left the basement door open.
The creaking continued. Footsteps. He hadn't heard the backdoor open or close. Had there been someone on the second floor? No way… I would've heard them. Or they would've heard me.
The sounds stopped right about where the basement door was.
Here's an idea, Whitman, why don't you turn on your light, go upstairs and introduce yourself as a Society agent? For all you know, it's the caretaker.
Right… because a house this badly off has a caretaker.
He waited for steps on the stairs. Nothing. And no further shift or creaks on the floor. Was the person just… waiting? It wasn't as if he'd be going up there and-
The sound of someone else taking a labored breath beside him filled his ears. His heart leaped into his throat.
No way. No fucking way. He could feel the person nearby, probably within arm's reach. And neither of them could see in the dark. Presumably. Otherwise, he'd likely be eating dirt.
He heard the whisper of air around a flailing limb. Oh shit, is there a light?
Metal beads clicked against glass and, with a blinding flare, a bare overhead bulb sprang to light. Kendall's gun swung uselessly in the direction of the other person, but his eyes burned with the glare. He got a single second's look-Patterson! How had he gotten out the hospital?-but before he could even blink, a heavy fist smashed into his jaw and sent him spiraling to the ground. His gun went flying.
Fuck fuck fuck-
He grabbed blindly for his gun, but the man jumped him. Large hands circled his throat from behind and fingers dug into his windpipe. Dark spots lingering in Kendall's eyes from the light expanded. He barely brushed the gun barrel with his middle finger before the grip around his throat tightened and hauled him backward. His phone slipped from his pocket and crunched under his attacker's knee. He clawed at the hands, trying to loosen the hold enough to take a breath.
Patterson snatched his arm and hauled it sharply back and away, the extreme angle pulling it straight out of his shoulder and-holy hell, that burned! His body went limp from the shock and both hands wrapped around his throat again.
Kendall kicked into overdrive as the spots in front of his eyes grew. He thrashed wildly to break away. Each jerk of his injured shoulder sucked more of the fight out of him. His arms dropped to the ground, first one and then the other as the strength sapped from them. He forced a wheezing breath past the obstruction in his throat, the shock of the single breath enough to send him barreling into unconsciousness.
Done! So yeah, our favorite blond has gone and gotten himself into trouble.
I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter!
Luckily, I've already started the next chapter, so you won't have to wait too long for that. I'm planning on having it up by Tuesday!
Until then!
-Epically Obsessed