I reached out my left arm toward the door knob, being careful not to turn my back on her. "You really should stop trying," she said. Her voice was closer than I thought, when I turned to see her sitting on the couch. "What do you want?" I asked her harshly.
She smiled. "I'm tired of being a little girl, we will just have to change that, won't we?" she said, her grin could cut meat with a butter knife.
"Did you hear any noises next door, anything indicating the babysitter might have been in trouble?" the detective asked. The man shook his head in front of his brightly decorated Christmas tree. "No, I heard nothing," he said.
The detective closed his notebook, thank you for your cooperation," he said. A woman approached him and handed him a plastic bag. "It looks like there seems to be a connection between the babysitter's murder and the elementary school boy's murder," she said.
"Lay it on me before the news has a field day with this," he sighed. The woman hooked her thumbs under her belt loops. "Both victims were found with this exact same poem called, I have friends in high places, crumpled into the palm of their hands, when you get time, you have got to read this poem," she said.
The detective watched as they zipped up the body bag.
"Wow 500 years, it took you long enough," a young man said to a woman who sat at the corner of the restaurant. Her eyes turning black, the woman chuckled. "It's funny really, the little boy that I possessed died after I left him, but this babysitter's body actually survived," she said.
The young man sipped his coffee and grinned. "Funny, very funny indeed," he said.