The Sixth Kind Chapter 04

The Sixth Kind Chapter 04

Edmund’s eyes went dark. He grabbed his keys off the desk. “Let’s go. I want to see that cat.”

Half an hour later, we were standing on the balcony looking at the stiff little body.

The orange tabby was already in full rigor mortis. Mouth half open.

Just like Auntie Irene said–the mouth was packed with soggy, sticky kibble.

Her whole chin was crusted with dried drool.

Her cloudy eyes stared at nothing. Helpless. Angry.

What kind of hell did she go through in her last hours?

That desperate need for food. Your body screaming for it. And at the final moment– something stops you cold. It pulled me right back to that mine shaft ten years ago.

In her last days, did my sister go through the same thing? Staring at water and food she

couldn’t touch? Tormented in ways I couldn’t imagine?

Auntie Irene stood there wringing her hands, going on and on about how strange the death

was.

“I haven’t seen a cat die like that in ten years, at least. Back then, there were a few strays–

cats, dogs–that went the same way as little Lily here……”

I went cold.

Ten years ago? That’s exactly when my sister died.

I grabbed Auntie Irene’s wrist. My voice was shaking:

“Auntie Irene–what did you just say? Ten years ago? Where did those animals die? Who

was feeding them? Did you see anyone strange around? Please–try to remember. This is

really, really important.”

Auntie Irene just blinked at me. Lost.

“It’s been ten years, dear. How am I supposed to remember? Stray animals–nobody pays

them much mind.”

“Grace.” Edmund pulled me back from the edge. “Slow down. Let’s do a necropsy on the cat.

Confirm things first. Don’t just go on appearances.”

I nodded.

We took Lily’s body back to the lab.

The overhead lights flipped on, throwing that harsh white glare over the orange tabby’s

scrawny body.

“Remember,” Edmund said, “everything leaves a trace. The more someone does, the more

they mess up.”

I put on a sterile gown. Pulled on gloves.

Ten years. Picking up a scalpel again–my hands were still shaking.

But some things, you just have to face.

“You’ve got this, Grace.”

I closed my eyes. Took a long breath. Steadied myself.

The blade went in at the mouth. Small cuts. Careful.

I peeled back tissue. Exposed the esophagus and trachea.

Edmund stood next to me, frowning.

I followed the throat all the way down to the stomach–and that’s when my eyes went wide.

My breath stopped.

“What is it?” Edmund caught it immediately.

“The entire esophagus……” My hand froze mid-cut. My gaze flickered across the exposed

tissue. I was freezing cold.

“No blockage. No corrosion from toxins. No smooth muscle pathology.”

“It’s exactly like my sister.”

“Ten years ago, the killer practiced on strays. When he got it right, he moved on to a person.”

Edmund’s voice was heavy. “Grace. You’re a criminal psych PhD. Act like it. Step back. Look

at yourself like you’re watching a stranger.”

“Go home. Take a good, hard look at everyone around you. Don’t leave anyone out.”

“Don’t just focus on your sister’s death–you’ll miss things. Your mother’s death. Your

father’s breakdown. Look into all of it.”

“Professor Stone–are you saying…… all of this was done by someone?”

I was gripping the edge of the autopsy table so hard my knuckles were white. Every hair on my body was standing up.

For ten years, I thought I’d destroyed my family with a few careless words.

And now–a cold feeling crept up my spine. Like a snake watching from the shadows.

“If I’m right, that person has been with you all along.”

Edmund’s face was dead serious.

“Go find the detective who worked the case. Do two things.”

“First, map out all your family’s connections–relatives, friends, neighbors, your parents’

coworkers. Make a list.”

“Second, look into every single person who was around your sister’s class that day. Or anyone with ties to the school. I think you’ll find something.”

Edmund paused. Then: “If you find a suspect, do not engage. Come to me first. Got it?”

Maybe he was afraid I’d do something stupid. He added: “You’ve waited ten years. Don’t rush

this.”