AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sculptures of peoples' hands, pressed together--sometimes wearing gloves.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Morgan gripped the sides of her seat, knuckles turning white as Derik swerved through the congested city streets. Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
The man they were after was Alan Steinberg, a local sculptor. And if what Morgan had seen suggested anything, then he might have something to do with the murders.
The killer's timeline was accelerating fast, and they couldn't waste any time.
"Almost there," Derik muttered, eyes darting between the road ahead and the GPS on his dashboard. "This guy's supposed to be some sort of hand sculptor or something?"
"That's what my intel suggests," Morgan replied, her voice tight with anticipation. As Derik navigated the traffic, she couldn't help but think about the victims they'd found so far: all left posed with gloves covering their hands, like some twisted signature. If this sculptor was responsible, she meant to put an end to the nightmare.
"Let's hope he's the one," Derik said, tension lacing his words. "We need a break in this case."
Morgan nodded, finding herself unable to look away from the screen of her phone as she delved deeper into the life of Alan Steinberg. His website showcased numerous images of hands in various poses, some eerily lifelike, others more abstract. But it was the sculptures adorned with gloves that sent chills down her spine. Could this really be their guy?
"Check this out," Morgan said, unable to mask the horror in her voice as she showed Derik a particularly disturbing sculpture when he stopped at a red light. It depicted two gloved hands intertwined, fingers locked together in a macabre embrace.
"Jesus," Derik murmured, eyes widening at the sight. "That's... unsettling."
"Unsettling is putting it mildly," Morgan agreed, swallowing hard before continuing her research. According to his online profile, Alan had graduated from a prestigious art school and now ran his own studio out of his home. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the right track, even as unease gnawed at her gut.
Morgan's thumb hovered over her phone screen, the image of gloved hands pressed together in a chillingly familiar pose making her heart race. The uncanny resemblance to the crime scenes they'd investigated gnawed at her insides like a persistent itch she couldn't reach. The artist's fixation on hands was disconcerting enough, but this particular sculpture made it difficult for Morgan to take a deep breath.
"Derik," she said, breaking the silence in the car as he stopped at another red light. "Take a look at this."
She angled the phone so that he could see the image without taking his eyes off the road for too long. Derik's brow furrowed, and he let out a low whistle. "That's... disturbing."
"Right?" Morgan tapped her phone screen, zooming in on the details. "The gloves, the way the hands are positioned... It's too damn close to what we've been finding at the scenes."
Morgan's mind raced with the possibilities - if Alan Steinberg was indeed their killer, what would that mean for the case? How many more victims might there be? And how would they bring him to justice when so much about him remained shrouded in mystery?
Morgan's fingers danced across her phone screen as she delved deeper into Alan Steinberg's background. She discovered that he had graduated from a prestigious art school and opened an independent studio where he managed to support himself entirely from the sale of his macabre sculptures. Impressive, but unsettling, given the circumstances.
"Looks like our guy has some talent," Morgan commented while scrolling through images of Steinberg's work. Derik glanced over, nodding in agreement.
"Remind me not to buy one for my living room," he quipped, earning a half-hearted chuckle from Morgan. For a moment, things between them almost felt normal--but Morgan quickly reminded herself that things between her and Derik would never be normal again.
As they approached the house, Morgan couldn't help but notice the eerie atmosphere surrounding the property. The exterior was adorned with bizarre hand sculptures, their twisted forms reaching out towards the visitors like desperate souls trapped within the confines of their metal frames. Her heartbeat quickened, sensing the weight of what they were about to uncover.
"Creepy," Derik muttered, parking the car just outside the gate.
"Understatement of the year," Morgan replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her mind raced with thoughts of how the victims must have felt when they first encountered this place, unaware of the horror that awaited them. The anticipation was almost unbearable.
Morgan stared at the bizarre hands reaching out from the garden, grasping at the air as if trying to snatch something from it. A chill ran down her spine, but she couldn't avert her eyes.
"Keep in mind," Derik said, breaking the silence, "this guy could be eccentric. We need to be careful."
"Of course," Morgan replied, her voice steady despite the unease building inside her. "Someone with this kind of obsession... I'd expect him to be odd."
With that, they stepped out of the car, the door slamming shut behind them. The sound echoed through the quiet street. As they approached the house, the sculptures seemed to close in on them, reaching out with their cold, lifeless fingers.
"Jesus," Morgan muttered under her breath, trying to ignore the unnerving sensation of being surrounded by those hands. She focused on the front door, forcing herself to think about the task at hand.
They reached the door, and Derik raised his fist to knock. His knuckles struck the wooden surface three times, each rap resonating through the still air. They both held their breath, waiting for a response.
But there was no answer.
