The Devil's Dream: A Nightmare Read Online Free

only thing that makes sense if the theory holds. He came in, unlocked the window, and left again.”
    “Why not just take her then or come in the same way the next time?”
    “Because this window is facing the backyard would be my biggest guess. The front door was locked when we arrived, and the only other door to the house actually exits on the side that faces a neighbor, with a stone pathway that leads to the backyard. That door was locked, too. So it would be hard for the perp to come in the front door and drag people out that way. Someone would have seen. He arrived when no one was home, unlocked the window, and then left. He came back later, I don’t know how much later, when people were home and came through the window, then took everyone out the window as well.”
    Art nodded. He wasn’t sure if any of what the kid said was true, but it made some logical sense. Art walked back to the closet, having gone to the window before getting a chance to look inside it.
    “The blood is smeared in a consistent pattern with someone getting their head whacked on the wall a few times. You can see where the original blood splatter happened here, and then as the perp continued to hit her, how it smeared as her face continually touched the wood.”
    Art looked over to the gun case on the floor. Two feet and a combination password away from safety. That’s how close Allison had been to staying alive. Or maybe she was still alive, just in serious pain. That was Brand’s modus operandi, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been able to kill any of the people previously because he needed them alive to create his ghastly experiments. Except, in his mind, there weren’t any experiments happening. To Brand, the theory was reality, all he had to do was walk through the steps.
    That would be the worst, if she was in some kind of suspended state, not dead, not alive, perhaps knowing the same fate awaited her daughter.
    “And then on the wall above the bed...”
    Art stopped listening to the detective. He hadn’t wanted to look there yet. He had purposefully avoided looking above the headboard, because he didn’t want to see the message. He didn’t want to face the possible implications, and maybe he had tried to hide that from himself earlier, but he couldn’t now. Art needed prayer and while he might hide things from himself, he couldn’t hide anything from God.
    Give me the strength, Father . God didn’t always listen, especially to Art, and he understood that. Put simply, God had a lot to do, and worrying about Art—with his foul mouth and temper—well that couldn’t always be at the top of His list. Maybe now though, this one time, God could alter His plans just a bit and listen. Because this shit might get difficult.
    Art looked up at the bed and saw the maroon streaks which looked almost like a child’s finger painting—besides the message.
    The question read: How about we stop with the nonsense and end all this?

    * * *
    “ T here’s nothing here . I mean nothing. This detective feels pretty sure whoever broke in came through the bedroom window, but other than that—nothing. No DNA. No forced entry. Just Moore’s blood dabbled in a few places,” Art said into his cellphone.
    “And the scribbling on the wall?”
    Art sighed. “Well, by nothing, I meant nothing besides that. That is, unfortunately, a pretty fucking big something. They managed to get some partial prints and it checks out as a ninety-eight percent match with Arthur Morgant.”
    “How do you feel about having the same name as someone who is going to be famous for horrible crimes?”
    Art didn’t smile. “Man. Fuck. What do we do?”
    “Elegant as always, Art,” Gyle James said. “How are the media stations down there playing it?”
    “There’ve been a few stories, nothing major. They mainly just mention that Moore was involved in the Brand case a couple years back.”
    A few seconds of silence came over the phone before Gyle said, “Arthur Morgant,