The horrible sound came from nowhere and everywhere.
Matt cringed, pulling his coat closer to his throat. "Who's there?" Only laughter met his question, and his heart raced. He decided he needed to stop drinking, to stop walking home so late at night. Dismissing the sound as a drunken delusion, he increased his pace.
Laughter continued to hound him. It was rich and loud, almost like his ex-girlfriend's. Shaking his head, Matt reminded himself it couldn't be Amber's laughter. That woman was long gone.
Not just gone. Dead and buried in the woods.
A chill wind sprang up, carrying the scent of loam and blood. Just like the night he'd buried Amber. The same scent he'd tried to scrub off before making the police report.
The laugh grew in volume and intensity, become a bit hysterical. Goosebumps rose all over, giving Matt pause. He wasn't easily frightened, even when blitzed out of his mind, but this sound drove him crazy.
"Whoever you are, you better come right out. I'm sick of your games." He sounded tougher than he felt at the moment. Matt clenched his fists and looked around, putting on the best show he could.
Still, the hauntingly familiar laugh grated at his nerves.
He ran then, guilt breaking his thoughts. Amber hadn't done anything wrong, hadn't deserved what he'd done to her. Nobody had even thought twice about her disappearance, hadn't given him a single suspicious look in the last six months. Matt had waited and waited for the cops to show up, to hound him until the end of his days.
Part of him had even wanted it.
The laughter ended abruptly, but Matt continued to run. He cried out briefly as he tripped on a curb and fell into a culvert. Death was quick for him. Quicker than it had been for Amber.
