Slenderman CeeRee Fields (autobiographies to read txt) 📖

parents and was home-schooled. Instead of time off for the standard summer break his parents set his time off to coincide with their own downtime, starting in October and ending December. These months were dead for Franklin’s and Linda’s industry. All the horror movies came out in October, and most cast and crew enjoyed taking off during the holidays.

Ian’s eyes all but popped out of his head. “Murder?”

“Well, yeah. I mean it’s only from September to December, but I’ve carted seventeen dead bodies and set up so much blood spatter I’m ready for a break.”

Jo grinned as Ian looked to see if the kid was kidding. She left him to guess. “Sure, if it’s okay with your dad.”

“It’s fine.” Franklin waved Kyle off. “Now go watch the door.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Murder?” Ian whispered to Jo.

“Yeah, I probably should’ve mentioned . . . Franklin and his family are experts in killing people.”

Ian stumbled down the last few stairs and released a high-pitched screech. He backed over the last step when he tried to escape the stabbed doll posed in front of them, which sent Jo into peals of laughter. Her cell caught all of it. Narrowed eyes focused on her. “What the hell, Jo?”

Catching her breath, she held up a finger when she heard the heavy tread of Redden joining them.

“What are you two—Jesus Christ!” His shout brought a smile to Ian’s lips.

“Okay, that was funny.” Ian laughed at the gobsmacked expression on Redden’s face.

Jo kept filming. This would be great fodder to be dragged out later. She couldn’t help but snicker at Redden. “I should’ve told you two that Franklin and his family are masters at horror film killing—”

“It’s our blood and butter—”

“Franklin.” Jo groaned at the overused line. One the man spouted whenever he could. She motioned to the basement of horror. “They make a lot of the effects for movies. I met him last Halloween when Sullivan and I almost arrested him for carrying what we thought was a dead body.”

“This is why you wanted to use him to identify the weapon?” Redden’s hand moved away from his gun, and he joined Ian and Jo at the bottom of the stairs.

“Well, your guys couldn’t do it. My guys couldn’t do it. I thought we’d come to a knife-wielding expert.” Jo moved deeper into the concrete and cinderblock area toward the big, beat to hell wooden worktable.

The basement ran the entire length and breadth of the house. From floor to ceiling swords, knives, khopeshes, and numerous other stabbing and bludgeoning instruments hung, lay, and leaned on the shelves and hooks that covered the walls. It wasn’t dank and dark but brilliantly lit with strings of fluorescent bulbs. To the right sat several dummies with different types of kitchen knives stabbed into their arms and wrists.

“What’re you doing with these?” She flicked a finger in the doll’s direction.

“Oh, well Linda and I have a small gig in November teaching why sometimes it’s better to leave a knife in someone if they’re stabbed. Rhys asked us to help out with visual aids. He and a few residents will be teaching a class on medical training and safety to college kids at UAB. I think he has a speaking engagement at several daycares with the parents too. They’ve already had a good bit of knife involved accidents from people carving pumpkins, and it’s only the first week of October.”

She nodded. “I remember him mentioning it. He said two of the people died.”

“Yeah, it’s because they took the knife out when they should’ve left it in. One was in the wrist and the other in the arm.” Franklin gestured at the dolls. “We want to get the spray just right so it’s more realistic when we pull it out and explain why—”

She was rarely squeamish, but Franklin could get detailed with his work. It was his passion. Holding up her hand, she stopped him. “I think we have the idea.”

Ian and Redden jolted at how nonchalant Franklin was about what he did. They didn’t know the man was a perfectionist and one of the most well-known blood men in the business.

“Sorry, you know I can talk about this all day. But that’s not why you’re here.” Franklin motioned to the empty workbench. “Did you bring the caste and photos?”

Ian took the book bag from his shoulder and dug into it. Passing a box then a file to Franklin, Ian stepped to one side, his head tipped as his gaze roamed over the shelves filled with jars of synthetic blood and fake skin.

Jo shook her head in amusement as Redden and Ian both explored the space Franklin and his wife, Linda, conducted their experiments in. She leaned on the bench across from her friend as he examined the cast.

“Huh. Does your guy use something to subdue his victims before he stabs them?” Franklin pulled the pictures from the file and shuffled through them.

She frowned meeting the others’ gazes before returning to Franklin. “Our Medical Examiners didn’t find any marks to suggest that.”

Franklin grunted, took the cast and walked to the back corner of the basement. “Did your Medical Examiners say the wound looked like a stiletto? Maybe a shallow dagger?”

“They suggested a type of dagger. The stiletto is too narrow and long for the wound. As for marks? Other than multiple stab wounds, no other marks were found. No bruising in a struggle and no defensive wounds,” Redden said.

“Any chemicals in their system?”

“No, and only the first home had a forced entry. It’s as if they knew the person,” she answered.

“Maybe. But these wounds, it’s a larger wound like a slice but with the shortness of a dagger piercing when stabbed into the victims. I know this weapon because we did a horror movie a few years ago based around the Roman era.” Franklin returned carrying a satchel. “I think the first wound killed the victim.”

Redden’s jaw dropped open. “Roman? Like Julius Caesar?”

“Holy shit,” Ian whispered. “Like the play where Julius’s friend Brutus kills him?”

“Exactly.” With