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I soon heard another knocking sound from her direction. I ran to join her, finding her peering into Pete’s bedroom.“He’s there!” she called.I looked in. Pete was on his bed, curled up on his side. The phone was lying off the hook on his pillow. His room was a war zone, his chair lying on its side, his floor strewn with piles of clothes and bedding, writing implements, and a bunch of cassette cases in all manner of disarray.“Pete!”We screamed a few times, and then I made for the front of the house. Muireann started following me.“No, stay there and watch him!” I called back to her.I reached the front entrance, hesitated for a moment, and then smashed my elbow flatly against the seventh square of their nine-paned door. The glass shattered messily and I reached through the jagged hole to unlock the door. I was nowhere near steady enough for this task, though. When I pulled my arm out, a long bloom of red materialized on my inner forearm, immediately accompanied by a razor-sharp. My body did not get cold, and the sensors that replaced the human eye was a hell of a lot more sensitive to low light. I could crank it up to almost daylight and pedal the bike very safely.I put the bike in Bristol's trunk. I simply drove the car back to the mission and left it parked behind the empty meeting hall. It would be several days before anyone used the meeting hall, so the car might go unnoticed for a while. The four mile ride home on the bike was hardly more than a twenty minute ride at noon on a summers day to me. During the fifteen minute ride home, at a pretty good speed, I was able to split my attention between the road and thoughts of what I had just done.I had committed a pretty clean murder. Okay, in my mind it was justified homicide, but I decided I would just skip the coroner's jury bit. There was no need for an inquest, I knew what happened and I knew it was necessary. The only question was could I get away totally clean, or would there be more details to deal.
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