EDGE OF SUSPENSE: Thrilling Tales of Mystery & Murder Read Free

was.
    "How do you think I found you? There was a
witness, dickhead!"
    Rick's shoulders slumped. "I'll turn myself
in to the police."
    "You should have thought about that before
you made the mistake of raping my wife!"
    Rick squeezed his eyes shut and seemed to
say a prayer.
    Dean said one of his own. He was about to
kill a man and needed all the help he could get to deal with the
ramifications. All he could think of was that he had to set Karyn
free. Even if it cost him his own freedom.
    He placed the barrel of the gun to Rick's
temple. After sucking in a deep breath, Dean counted to three,
knowing there was no going back once he pulled the trigger.
    He did so with no regrets, content to know
this asshole would never rape again.
    * * *
    Dean parked in his usual spot in the garage,
noting the empty spot where Karyn's car used to be. They had sold
it a month after she was attacked. She had quit her job two weeks
earlier and now seemed content doing nothing.
    Maybe now things could change.
    He entered the house through the side door.
He could hear music coming from the den. Karyn was a big jazz fan,
though not recently, preferring the sounds of silence.
    He hoped this was a good sign.
    Stepping into the den, Dean envisioned Karyn
sitting on the couch, maybe sipping a glass of wine, enjoying the
Kenny G tune. The room was empty.
    He went to look for her in the kitchen. The
kettle was on the stove, a half filled bottle of water sat on the
table, and unwashed dishes lay untouched on the counter and in the
sink.
    But no Karyn.
    Dean saw nothing to cause him to worry. But
for some reason he was concerned.
    "Karyn, where are you?"
    No response.
    He scaled the stairs. Maybe she fell asleep.
She had been spending a lot of time in bed since the attack.
    "Karyn, honey, are you up here?"
    Still no answer. Dean considered that she
could have fallen and hit her head and was now lying unconscious
somewhere.
    Or maybe she wasn't even in the house. In
fact, he seemed to recall that when they were at Phil and Stella's
house last night, Stella had invited Karyn to go shopping. Karyn
had politely declined, though she had opened up far more than he
expected her to.
    Perhaps she'd had a change of heart and
called Stella.
    Dean clung to that thought, wondering why
Karyn hadn't phoned him to say she was going out.
    The bedroom door was slightly ajar.
    "You in there, hon?"
    Dean pushed open the door. Karyn was
standing at the side of the bed. Her blouse was ripped, partially
exposing one breast. She looked almost frozen stiff, as if having
come face to face with terror.
    "Karyn...?"
    She didn't move.
    Only now did he look down and notice the gun
at her bare feet. He had gotten it for protection soon after the
sexual assault. She had been resistant to the idea, unsure if she
could use it.
    He had insisted she learn how.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Dean caught
sight of something on the floor. He turned and saw a brawny person
wearing a bloody ski mask lying there. Three or four bullet holes
had seeped blood onto the hardwood.
    He wasn't moving.
    Dean took no chances. Walking over to the
man, he bent over cautiously and felt his neck. Nothing.
    Again. Same result.
    He removed the ski mask. Dark eyes devoid of
life stared back at him from an ashen, puffy face.
    Dean went to his wife, picked up the gun,
and tucked it in his pants. He put his hands on her shoulders,
forcing Karyn to look at him.
    "What happened?"
    She was unresponsive, as if in a trance.
    He nudged her. "Tell me, Karyn."
    Her chapped lips began to move. "He came
back, just like he promised—"
    "Who?" Dean raised a brow. "You're saying
this is the man who raped you?"
    Karyn stared blankly at him, nodding. "I
grabbed the gun and when he came at me, I-I shot him… And I just
kept shooting…"
    "Are you sure it's him?" Dean studied her,
his world frozen in that moment.
    She didn't flinch. "I'd never forget his
smell and voice; the way he laughed and had his hands all over me
before he raped