Locked In With the Killer Next Door / Chapter 2: Blood on the Rooftop
Locked In With the Killer Next Door

Locked In With the Killer Next Door

Author: Gregory Marquez

Chapter 2: Blood on the Rooftop

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2

In the video, the body in a dress lay in a pool of blood.

The red and white striped dress, soaked with blood, had turned a strange, dark crimson. My knees nearly buckled. I clung to the bedpost, bile rising in my throat as the image burned itself into my memory, impossible to look away from.

Where the neck should have been, the head was missing—only a hollow, bloody cavity remained.

It was hard to see clearly at night, but judging from the figure, it was a woman.

A gust of wind tugged at the curtains, as if the world itself recoiled. Residents often go up to the rooftop to enjoy the view, so for privacy, the surveillance I accessed earlier didn’t include that area.

Someone had really been killed…

And according to Harper, the murderer was still inside the building and hadn’t left.

3

Bzzz, bzzz…

The sound of the robot vacuum suddenly starting up snapped me out of my panic.

Its cheerful whirr was jarringly out of place, like a bad joke in a horror movie. I pulled myself together and gave a new command.

"Activate danger protection mode."

When I bought the place, the saleswoman said that in case of danger, the AI butler could provide emergency response plans.

[Safety protection mode activated.]

[Based on current information, identifying source of danger: murderer in the hallway.]

[Double door locks have been engaged.]

[Electric curtains are now fully closed.]

[Air conditioning ventilation has been turned on.]

[Lights dimmed to lowest brightness.]

I heard a click at the door—the door could no longer be opened from the outside.

A wave of gratitude for modern American paranoia washed over me; every smart lock and backup system paid for itself in that instant.

[Generating escape plan...]

[Owner lives on the 7th floor, 24 meters above ground. After checking the owner's Amazon order history, no high-altitude escape equipment found. Unable to escape from high altitude.]

……

[After comprehensive assessment, please wait for rescue inside your home.]

[911 has been alerted for you. There has been a multi-car pileup 1.2 miles away, the road is blocked, and police arrival time cannot be estimated.]

A series of notifications helped restore my sense of security.

As long as I didn’t open the door and invite trouble, I’d be safe.

I pulled out my phone and sent a message in the building group chat.

"There’s a murderer in the building. Everyone, don’t go out."

4

The smart butler software has a built-in group chat for residents, but not many people have moved in yet.

The group chat icon bounced on my phone, notifications popping up from my neighbors—most of whom I’d only exchanged awkward nods with by the mailboxes. It was nearly midnight—way too late for this kind of nightmare. After I sent the message, 704 on the same floor replied.

"Wait, what? Are you messing with us right now?"

402 also chimed in: "Our building’s security is super tight. If a murderer got in, security would’ve caught them."

Security guard Mike tagged me: "Owner of 702, hello. I’ve been watching the surveillance. No outsiders have entered. Come on, let’s not freak everyone out."

True, it was such a ridiculous claim—anyone would be skeptical.

I didn’t get upset: "If you don’t believe me, check the rooftop surveillance."

Soon, 301 sent a voice message in the group.

"Someone really died."

301 was newly married; her husband is a trucker who’s away most of the year.

Her voice was trembling.

I pictured her clutching her phone, maybe sitting on the edge of her bed in the dark, fear seeping through her words. A tense silence settled over the chat, and for a moment, I thought I heard a creak in the hallway outside my door, my imagination running wild. 704 finally said: "The footage doesn’t look fake. 702 is telling the truth. Everyone, don’t go out."

Security guard Mike sounded annoyed.

"Impossible. Everyone in our building has to scan their face to get in and out. The system logs everything. No outsiders these days."

The apartment requires all residents’ biometric data. Entering, exiting, even using the elevator—all require facial recognition.

In other words, the murderer isn’t an outsider.

Goosebumps crawled up my arms. I stared at the screen, pulse hammering in my ears.

The killer is a resident of this building.

He’s in the group chat right now.

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