Author's Note:
This is another that was published and that I got back from the publisher just a little while ago. I wanted to put a warning on this one. It's about a sick puppy serial killer and the detective, *sexy beast*, and Kaylee *damsel in distress*. It does have death scenes and some gore so if you don't like that stuff, you'll probably not like this one. Anyway...Take care and thanks for rereading me!!
*****
The body rolled down the hill landing at the bottom with a satisfying thump. He stood, staring down at the picture it made, bare arms and legs splayed to the four winds, her body naked and vulnerable to the elements and nightly predators.
The red silk ribbon he'd tied in her dark hair was waving jauntily in the slight breeze. Her eyes were open, staring unseeingly into the sky now just darkening with the coming night, the irises filmed over by death. A soundless scream seemed to come from her open mouth, a scream that only he would hear now, its sweet song playing over and over as he dreamed.
He took his pictures hurriedly, anxious now that she was down there with the others, the same valley off of the same hill road. He wasn't safe now, even though he'd been coming here for a while. No one had found his lovers, though they did their searches and posted their flyers. But it didn't pay not to be careful.
Leaving her, he picked his way through the dense foliage that surrounded this part of the county road. He dropped his camera in the trunk of his nondescript blue four door sedan. Anyone seeing it wouldn't know if it were a Ford or a Chevy, Pontiac or even a Buick. It was unnoticeable, unremarkable. Just a car parked on the side of the road while the driver took a leak.
He slipped into the driver's seat, pushing the key into the ignition with a grunt of relief. His reflection in the rear view mirror caught his attention and he tipped it so that he could see himself better. Brown hair, clean, parted on the side. Not too long, not too short. His face was pleasant, a little boyish but nothing that stood out. Medium height, medium weight, and a little on the nerdy looking side there was nothing about him that would scream: "Hey I just finished killing my fifth girl! Look at me!"
He smiled into the mirror, watching the average man smile back at him. There was nothing creepy about that smile, nothing that stood out. He was just an average, nondescript man with a normal smile. He sighed and stared down at his hands. He did have nice hands, capable of playing piano virtuosos as well strangling the life out of his victims. He cracked his knuckles, warmed up his fingers as if he were getting ready to play one of the greats, Mozart or Chopin. Yes, he did have nice hands.
He started the car, pulling out onto the road carefully. He didn't want to leave too deep of tire marks, someone might stop and check, maybe find something in his trail that he had missed. He didn't want to lose this spot, it was better for the girls, being left here together. It was nicer that they had each other for companionship out here in the cold and the dark. He didn't want to search out another spot.
It was a nice night, cool enough to be comfortable with the window cracked. He turned on the radio, tuning in on an old Bob Seger song. The words flowed through him, the musical beat making his heart sing with rhythm. "Out here I am...on the road again," he sang, beating his thumb against the steering wheel. "Here I am...up on the sta..age."
His mind turned to the next one as he sang. She was a pretty piece, long brunette hair that swung in an almost perfect curve across her middle back, big brown eyes that sparkled with laughter as she talked. She was tall and slim, pretty perfection in a trim package. And he couldn't wait to taste her.
He kept something of each of his girls. From sweet Susan he'd kept her watch. It sat under his pillow at night, ticking away the seconds with a sound that reminded him of the ticking of her heart before she'd died. Funny Frannie had given him an earring, green jade, an unusual stone and one meant for luck. She'd brought him luck, leading him to his next girl who'd been her roommate.
Joyous Jill had been a real find. She'd had a beautiful voice. She'd sung for him on those long nights they'd spent together. He kept the tapes he'd made, his playing and her voice, to listen to now that her voice was forever silenced. Jill had given him her ring. Silver and turquoise in an Indian design, a present from her mother, she'd said when he took it from her, her voice begging him to let her keep it. He'd treasure it too, now, just as she had.
Risqué Rhonda. He smiled at the thought of that perky little brunette. She'd been a handful, fighting him tooth and nail. And she'd been a virgin to boot. How many times was he going to find a girl in this day and age at 23 years old and still a virgin? She'd been such a pleasure to tame. But then she'd become boring, mewling and crying as he'd plunged into her relentlessly. He'd taken a lock of her hair, such beautiful dark hair. It sat, braided neatly with tiny red ribbons holding the ends together, curled into a small glass bowl by his bedroom window. He loved to run his hands over the smooth braid, feel the silky hair. And remember.
Alluring Allison, the latest of his wonderful collection, sweet, seductive and sensual with her dark flowing locks and her red luscious lips, he'd known in an instant that she was meant to be his. She'd come on to him, teasing him, tempting him until he'd been unable to resist. And when he'd responded, kissing that full mouth, holding that ripe body to his, she'd screamed and cried and begged. No other sound was as special, no other sound filled his heart the way those pleas for mercy did. And when he was done with her, when her body lay bruised and broken under his, he'd taken this.
He reached into his pocket, carefully pulling the tiny gold cross out. The chain was twisted and tangled into knots, but he had other plans for that cross. He wiped the blood from its gleaming surface with the end of his thumb lifting it to his nose to breathe in the smell of metal, the coppery scent of blood and imagined he could still smell her sweet scent clinging like a last memory to the gold.
The drive took longer than normal, he took his time, stopping at a gas station at the other end of town and getting gas, using his credit card. He'd put ten dollars in earlier, using cash at a gas station he never used before, keeping his head turned, being friendly but not overly so and making sure the station was busy when he went in. No one would remember him there.
He stopped at his normal grocers and picked up a gallon of milk and some cat food. His orange colored tom, Buddha, would be hungry and complaining by the time he finally got home. As he was walking out, a woman walked in, her eyes on the purse that she was searching through. She bumped into him, reaching out a hand to steady herself and him.
"I'm so sorry," she said, looking up into his eyes. "Are you okay?"
His heart beat erratically, his mind raced. She was beautiful, with golden skin and dark hair, eyes so brown they almost looked black. When she smiled, her full strawberry colored lips pulled away from brilliant white teeth. Her hand, when she touched him, was soft and gentle, a caring hand, a tender hand.
