Silent Sins ✓ ( book 1) Editing in Progress

Chapter 12

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"Well, go on, fill us in. What's his house like?"

Her voice startles me in the silence.

"Modern, expensive. Empty" A home this quiet isn't a home at all. It's an empty shell.

I head down a hallway and listen to any signs of life through random doors before entering. I know he's not home, but regardless, I'm paranoid.

On the third try, I enter a secluded office with a red leather chair, oak desk and a panoramic window that opens to the view of his immaculately large back garden. It almost feels like I'm outside, but the warmth of the room gives the illusion away.

A silent gasp parts my lips.

"Maybe he likes the emptiness." She ponders out loud. "Or. Or maybe it's his safe house, like for those evil guys in the movies."

"I thought you didn't believe he was a bad guy."

"I don't." She mocks me, "I was feeding your fantasies."

"They're not fantasies. They're the true. He's a psychopath."

"I'm sorry, which, out of the two of you, is breaking into the others' house to snoop on their things."

"And who encouraged me?"

"Who brought me here in the first place?" She challenges.

Opening filing cabinets, I notice the locked one and fish out my Bobby pins.

"You're probably in their sniffing his underwear drawer. Licking his spoons, rubbing his pillows on your body-"

"Camila" I yell. My voice amplifies around the house and I curse.

She lets out a cackle, "You better hope he's not lounging in his living room."

"Not helping." Pulse racing in my ears,  I fiddle awkwardly with the pin. The filing cabinet opens and I pull out the torch on my phone.

To a normal person, they would look like plain manilla files. But if I know this man. He's probably analysing people and logging their life. Charting their schedules. I flick through them eagerly.

"Find anything yet?"

My face falls with disappointment. They're filled with tax files and invoices.

A rustle comes from the kitchen, and my heart drops to my feet.

"Fuck." I shut my flash off and crawl along the floor. Pushing myself up against a wall, I peek around the corner, squinting into the dark.

"Is he there?" She laughs. "Some day this will be an amazing story to tell."

I ignore her and edge closer to see, relieved to find nobody is there. Breathing a sigh of relief, I shut everything and head out of the office, leaving everything the way I found it.

"You're funny." I mutter and turn the corner leading up the stairs. The floor doesn't creek. I feel like a ghost in the shell of his house. Christ, I've been trying to uncover his identity and among it all, I'm turning into him. A moderate man living within the normalities of society, yet suspicious in every way.

I've broken a fucking entering.

Testing a few more doors, I run into bathrooms, guest bedrooms, and at last, the master bedroom. In the dark, all I see are neat bed sheets, panoramic windows facing the back garden, a lamp and black glossy wardrobes.