My Family Heard My Murderous Thoughts, So the Fake Heiress Called 911 Chapter 08

My Family Heard My Murderous Thoughts, So the Fake Heiress Called 911 Chapter 08

Everyone downstairs had been woken up.

Nolan stood at the top of the stairs, while Gregory stood beside the sofa. Hailey and Catherine were still in

the kitchen.

I walked downstairs, and everyone looked at me.

Hailey rushed out of the kitchen, her eyes swollen and her hair a mess.

“Fine.” She looked around at the family and laughed. “You win. I’m leaving.”

She headed for the door, still expecting her family to stop her.

“Before you go, let’s settle something,” I said.

Hailey stopped and turned, a trace of wariness in her eyes. “What?”

I smiled.

“What you did tonight already amounts to attempted poisoning. The dose wasn’t enough to kill me, but add the false police report, the repeated false accusations, and the attempts to frame me…

“Want me to tell you what charges and sentence you could be facing?”

Hailey’s face went white. She stared at me, her lips moving, but no sound came out.

Nolan came down the stairs and stopped just behind me. Then he asked what everyone else wanted to know.

“Who are you, exactly?”

I looked at them.

Gregory stood beside the sofa with his fists clenched. Catherine came out of the kitchen, still holding the napkin stained with white powder. Nolan stood behind me, his brow deeply furrowed.

I pulled out the black leather credential wallet. A gold federal badge was embossed on the cover.

Three months earlier, I’d just finished behavioral profiling on a serial murder case involving a killer codenamed “the Butcher.”

He’d killed seven people across three states.

To analyze his behavioral patterns, I’d locked myself in an interview room, listening to his interview recordings and studying his crime-scene photos over and over.

By the time I finished the behavioral profile report, I couldn’t think like a normal person anymore. All I could think about was how to kill people.

That was when my birth parents found me.

My unit chief said, “Good timing. Take three days of personal leave and go reconnect with your birth

family.”

I didn’t refuse. I knew I needed those three days to start thinking like a normal person again.

I showed them the credentials briefly, put them back in my pocket, and continued.

“I’m a federal behavioral profiler. Codename: ‘Sketch.””

The living room was silent for five full seconds.

Catherine froze, and the napkin slipped from her hand.

Nolan took a deep breath. He finally understood that all those murder methods they’d heard me analyzing

had been me reconstructing the killer’s thought process.

Hailey was the first to break the silence.

“Then why didn’t you say that earlier?!”

Earlier in the study, Nolan had told Hailey that he and Mom and Dad could hear my thoughts, and that I kept thinking about how to kill people.

But he’d also told her they had no evidence that I was actually a murderer, and that he’d already had

someone investigate me.

So he’d told Hailey to stay away from me for the next few days. In case I really was a murderer, provoking me the way she had been could easily set me off.

Instead of keeping her distance, Hailey had called 911.

Now she looked at me resentfully. If I’d told her who I was from the beginning, she wouldn’t have called the police and exposed what she was really like.

I turned to her, puzzled.

“First, would you have believed me? Second, why would I tell you what I do for a living? Was there any reason I needed to tell you from the start?”