[Chapter 10: Someone Died in the Shop]
Seeing Daniel smile, Lawrence frowned. "What are you smiling at?"
"Nothing. You want my shop, right? I can give it to you," Daniel agreed without hesitation.
Lawrence was caught off guard by his quick response. After a pause, he smiled. "Daniel, you're a smart man. Now, go pack your personal belongings."
"Alright."
Daniel turned and walked into the back room. Not even an hour passed before he came back out -- his hands empty.
"Excuse me."
Without another word, Daniel brushed past Lawrence and left.
Watching Daniel's retreating figure, Lawrence was puzzled. The man's reaction was completely different from what he'd expected.
"Lawrence, don't you get it? He's timid. He wouldn't dare refuse," a black man mocked loudly.
"Is that really so?" Lawrence wasn't convinced.
"Lawrence, even though we didn't lay a hand on him, you still owe us the money you promised," the other warned.
"You'll get what you agreed on, but you're staying here tonight," Lawrence said firmly.
"Why?"
"He gave in too easily. I'm worried he'll come back to cause trouble tonight."
"You always overthink things."
"That's why I hire you," Lawrence retorted.
"Fine, but only for one night. But you are responsible for our dinner and plenty of beer."
"Deal. Tomorrow morning, I'll bring people to clear out the place and change the locks. Then he can't regret a thing."
...
That night.
The three men lounged on the couch, drinking beer and watching a big-screen TV. Their half-eaten pizza was tossed haphazardly on the coffee table. Within hours, they'd made a mess of the place.
"There's nothing here. Lawrence always overthinks."
"That guy was clearly scared by us, that's why he left quietly."
"Better if nothing happens. We sleep here, get paid tomorrow."
"Too bad there aren't any women around, haha..."
Their laughter filled the room as they drank and joked.
Suddenly, Maguire, the bald one, noticed the bathroom light flickering. He turned his head and caught a shadow darting by. Startled, he sat upright.
He got up and checked the bathroom but found nothing.
"What are you doing, Maguire?" the others asked, noticing his tense expression.
"Nothing." He shrugged off the feeling, thinking he was imagining things.
Returning to the couch, he took a sip of beer just as the lights and TV went out -- plunging the room into darkness.
Before fear could fully take hold, a scream pierced the silence.
"Ah!"
Maguire recognized Trey's voice and shouted, "Trey, what's wrong? Trey?"
No answer came.
"Kenny, check on Trey -- what's going on?" he called out.
Still no response. It seemed Kenny hadn't heard.
Suddenly, the sound of a toilet flushing echoed from the bathroom.
Maguire's head snapped toward the sound, but in total darkness, he couldn't see a thing.
"Trey! Kenny! Speak up!" His scalp tingled; every hair stood on end. The fear was suffocating.
He struggled to stay calm but failed. The unknown lurking in the darkness felt like it was crushing his skull.
Drip... drip... liquid hit the floor, making his terror rise.
Then, the TV flickered back on, showing nothing but static.
With the sudden light, Maguire's eyes darted toward Trey.
His heart stopped.
Trey's head slumped forward on the table, a beer bottle driven through his right eye, exiting behind his head.
Blood pooled and spilled over the floor, continuing to drip.
The sound came from that gruesome scene.
"Ah!"
Maguire jumped up in panic, stepping backward repeatedly.
"Kenny."
He thought of the other man but saw no one around him.
At that moment, the bathroom light switched on.
"Kenny? Is that you?"
Maguire cautiously circled the table toward the bathroom doorway.
What he saw froze him in place.
Kenny's head was submerged in the toilet, his body motionless.
But it wasn't water -- it was dark red blood flooding the bowl.
"Ah!"
Maguire screamed again and bolted for the exit, ignoring everything else.
Only a few steps later, a cold shiver ran down his spine -- something had clung to his back.
His footsteps dragged, slowed... then stopped.
He turned slowly.
His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Thump...
He collapsed to the floor, losing consciousness.
---
9:00 a.m.
Lawrence pushed open the door of Cross Hall, calling out, "Wake up, guys! Get ready -- the movers will be here soon."
No answer.
"Sleeping that soundly?" he muttered and stepped inside.
Suddenly, he stumbled, nearly falling.
Grabbing a shelf to steady himself, he looked down.
"Fuck!"
Lawrence recoiled.
There lay Maguire -- his features distorted, his face ashen. He was dead.
"How could this happen?"
Lawrence's face drained of color, fear rushing in.
He steeled himself and moved further inside.
"Trey, Kenny..." he called several times. No response.
Taking a deep breath, Lawrence pressed on.
"Ah!"
Soon, a scream ripped from his throat as he rushed back out.
...
At the doorway, he found Daniel.
"Good morning, Lawrence," Daniel greeted politely.
Lawrence, still shaken, pointed inside, gasping for air, unable to speak.
After a moment, he gasped, "Did you do this?"
Daniel blinked. "What did I do?"
"You killed them all?" Lawrence's voice dropped; his face went pale.
"Killed?" Daniel glanced toward Maguire's body near the door but didn't step forward.
"If you're slandering me, I can sue you."
Pulling out his phone, Daniel dialed Sheriff Ford.
...
"Mr. Cross, how can I help you?" Ford answered with polite urgency.
"There's a body in my shop. Please send your team right away."
"A body?" Sheriff Ford's tone hardened. "I'm on my way."
...
With a murder case, the police responded much faster than usual. Soon, Sheriff Ford and Detective Lara arrived.
They approached Daniel, exchanging brief greetings before Ford asked, "Mr. Cross, tell us exactly what happened."
Daniel shook his head. "I'm not sure. Yesterday, my shop was robbed. This morning, when I came to check, someone rushed out, and I saw a body inside. I didn't dare go in, so I called you."
Ford's expression darkened. "Where is that person now?"
Daniel pointed toward the adjacent shop. "Right inside."
*****
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