Will backed away, eyes no longer on the dark hair in the bed but on the camera. A sound drifted to him, and it wasn’t
but the creak of a floorboard. He had no time to turn. Something hard cracked across the back of his head, and pain exploded in his skull. He fell to the floor. And pictures came to his mind.
Pictures of red lights. In the entranceway, in the living room under construction, in the kitchen, in the upstairs hallway.
And he saw now the black hair on the pillow slither, and the lump rise.