1. The Battered Lamp Chapter Seventeen: The Decision of the Mother


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    had enough to get a search warrant for Kyle's house. He just needed those forensic reports on the shoe prints. One last piece of evidence to tie Kyle to the murder scene. Slow and steady always wins the race. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kyle found himself sitting on the couch, trying to watch the playoff game. Seattle was fighting to go to the Super Bowl, but that hardly seemed to matter right now. His mom had left on her walk hours ago. He had tried to call her, but she wasn't answering. “She's fine,” Aaliyah assured him for the hundredth time. “She's been gone for hours,” he muttered as his wife lay cuddled on his lap. They were in the living room, not his bedroom, and his concubines were scattered on the floor, cheering at the game. There were a surprising number of Seahawk fans among his women. “You made your wish, my love. I'm aware of her. She is fine. I can summon her if you want.” “No,” he sighed. “She needs time to think. But she is fine, right?” Aaliyah gave him a patient smile. “She is. I bet she'll be—” The front door opened. Kyle sat up, hope burning. “Boy it is really raining out there, Kyle,” Britney called. His hopes crashed and burned. “I am not a fan of it.” Britney walked into the bedroom, wiping her glasses on the edge of her baggy sweatshirt, her dagger Waterclaw tucked into her sweatpants. Her normally bushy-brown hair was a sodden mess matted to her head and shoulders. Behind her, Phillipa tottered in, her hands clasped, looking down at the floor. ...
    “Don't be shy,” Kyle told her. “You're one of us now.” Phillipa gave him a shy smile. Then she saw Aaliyah. “I'm so sorry. We had to obey her. None of us joined up to...do those things.” Aaliyah nodded her head. “Are you truly sorry?” His wife had her dark eyes fixed on the witch. “With all my heart. It was terrible what we did.” A tear ran down Phillipa's cheek. “Then you are forgiven.” “We have a problem,” Britney said, sitting on the couch next to him, water dripping off the end of her hair. Aaliyah gave her a frown. “You're dripping water everywhere.” Britney blushed. “My apologies, Aaliyah.” “I wish Britney and Phillipa were dry to keep the house clean.” “Done.” Britney's hair was suddenly its normal, bushy self. Britney didn't even flinch. “Thank you, Aaliyah.” “So, what's the problem.” “Detective Donnar accosted Phillipa today. I do not think your interview on Friday went as well as you had hoped.” Kyle blinked. When he had spoken to the Detective at school on Friday, Kyle had thought it went great. Last night, he had chatted with Britney in a Google Hangout about the interview, catching her up on all that had happened while she had been cooped up with Phillipa. “No. It went fine. I'm sure of it. He never even accused me of anything.” “Well, he seemed quite interested in you. When he learned that Phillipa was dating me, he instantly brought your name up. He asked Phillipa where she was and, I suspect, he will be contacting me to verify her alibi.” “Fuck,” Kyle muttered. ...
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