Tiffany heard laughter coming from down the hallway and felt a pang of jealousy. It was not as if the two of them were lovers, although she could feel something that seemed to exist between the two of them. Was it Stockholm Syndrome? Some rapidly forming bond between captor and captive? Whatever it was, she simply did not appreciate getting pushed to the back of the house to do the babysitting. She glanced first at the police detective passed out on the bed, then back at the children on the floor.
There was also the little matter of her not having fed as of yet. She was terribly hungry.
Kill the children and then take my place in the front of the house, she thought. Their father won’t find out until he wakes up and who knows how soon that might be?