okay. It’s okay,” he whispered. “This is what you wanted.”
In a moment of boldness and bravado, he’d decided to leave the bones where they could be found. After all, games were always more fun when you had a playmate. And what was the point of greatness if it went unrecognized?
So he’d left the bones out. And they had been found.
So why was he afraid? Why was he suddenly worried that cops would storm his stronghold and drag him to a small gray cell?
Breathe. Relax.
He’d lived in the shadows for a very long time, and he’dgrown so tired of hiding. He’d grown tired of wanting things and not being able to have them. He’d grown weary of denying his true self.
He’d wanted the cops to know what he could do. He wanted to be feared. He wanted to be that terrifying bedtime story that kids told each other when they needed to stir dread.
And now they would know.
For a few panic-stricken moments, he’d considered leaving town. Maybe it had been foolish to poke a stick at the cops. He’d been killing quietly for three years. He’d been creating his carvings, taking pleasure in polishing them and displaying them. Why the need for attention now?
Should he leave town? That’s what he’d always done when things didn’t go well. He ran and hid.
The Other paced the workroom, even considered running upstairs and packing a bag. What would he pack? How long should he hide this time?
But as the seconds ticked past and the rush of fear abated, he discovered a small kernel of excitement taking root. As he paced and moved about the small room, anticipation grew and grew until it overwhelmed the fear completely.
The cops had found the bones. So what? He’d been careful. There was no trace of him on the bones. No evidence to link him to what he’d done.
His nerves calmed as he ticked through the steps that were to come.
Eventually, the cops would put a name and a face to the bones. They’d learn what they could about her. They’d ask her family and friends who could have done such a horrible thing. But in the end … they’d come up empty-handed.
No one could link him to her. No one had seen them together. There were no e-mails, faxes, or texts that they’d exchanged. His very silent partner, who would never talk to anyone about anything, had arranged the meeting.
He thought about the cops running around in circles like crazed dogs, trying to figure out what end was up. They’d growl and beat their breasts, but in the end they’d find nothing.
The notion that Detectives Kier and Garrison would be left with an unsolved case—a blot on their records— had its appeal. In fact, it gave him great pleasure.
He thought about the last minutes with the woman. Her eyes brimmed with fear.
Save me. Please spare me. Please!
But of course he had not. The thrill had been watching the life seep from her eyes. With each delicious second, death had drained the color from her face until it was a pale lifeless mask.
He glanced down at the white femur bone on his desk. So smooth and white. Like polished ivory. Later tonight when the house was quiet, he would begin carving the next pawn in his chess set.
Chapter 5
Wednesday, October 5, 9:15 A.M.
Thoughts of Sierra tugged at Angie as she pressed her cell phone to her ear and waited in traffic. On hold she was forced to listen to the elevator music her doctor’s office played while they held their patients hostage.
“Sierra, where are you?” she muttered as she tapped the steering wheel with her index finger. “Tell me you’ve not done something really stupid.”
She watched the light in the intersection turn green, and she eased forward with traffic. The elevator music droned as she inched along.
Angie ticked through the details of her last meeting with Sierra. It had been about money. Sierra wanted more from her divorce. She’d been angry. But Angie had sensed the young woman played a role. Outraged victim. The orphan. The world had once again dumped on
In a moment of boldness and bravado, he’d decided to leave the bones where they could be found. After all, games were always more fun when you had a playmate. And what was the point of greatness if it went unrecognized?
So he’d left the bones out. And they had been found.
So why was he afraid? Why was he suddenly worried that cops would storm his stronghold and drag him to a small gray cell?
Breathe. Relax.
He’d lived in the shadows for a very long time, and he’dgrown so tired of hiding. He’d grown tired of wanting things and not being able to have them. He’d grown weary of denying his true self.
He’d wanted the cops to know what he could do. He wanted to be feared. He wanted to be that terrifying bedtime story that kids told each other when they needed to stir dread.
And now they would know.
For a few panic-stricken moments, he’d considered leaving town. Maybe it had been foolish to poke a stick at the cops. He’d been killing quietly for three years. He’d been creating his carvings, taking pleasure in polishing them and displaying them. Why the need for attention now?
Should he leave town? That’s what he’d always done when things didn’t go well. He ran and hid.
The Other paced the workroom, even considered running upstairs and packing a bag. What would he pack? How long should he hide this time?
But as the seconds ticked past and the rush of fear abated, he discovered a small kernel of excitement taking root. As he paced and moved about the small room, anticipation grew and grew until it overwhelmed the fear completely.
The cops had found the bones. So what? He’d been careful. There was no trace of him on the bones. No evidence to link him to what he’d done.
His nerves calmed as he ticked through the steps that were to come.
Eventually, the cops would put a name and a face to the bones. They’d learn what they could about her. They’d ask her family and friends who could have done such a horrible thing. But in the end … they’d come up empty-handed.
No one could link him to her. No one had seen them together. There were no e-mails, faxes, or texts that they’d exchanged. His very silent partner, who would never talk to anyone about anything, had arranged the meeting.
He thought about the cops running around in circles like crazed dogs, trying to figure out what end was up. They’d growl and beat their breasts, but in the end they’d find nothing.
The notion that Detectives Kier and Garrison would be left with an unsolved case—a blot on their records— had its appeal. In fact, it gave him great pleasure.
He thought about the last minutes with the woman. Her eyes brimmed with fear.
Save me. Please spare me. Please!
But of course he had not. The thrill had been watching the life seep from her eyes. With each delicious second, death had drained the color from her face until it was a pale lifeless mask.
He glanced down at the white femur bone on his desk. So smooth and white. Like polished ivory. Later tonight when the house was quiet, he would begin carving the next pawn in his chess set.
Chapter 5
Wednesday, October 5, 9:15 A.M.
Thoughts of Sierra tugged at Angie as she pressed her cell phone to her ear and waited in traffic. On hold she was forced to listen to the elevator music her doctor’s office played while they held their patients hostage.
“Sierra, where are you?” she muttered as she tapped the steering wheel with her index finger. “Tell me you’ve not done something really stupid.”
She watched the light in the intersection turn green, and she eased forward with traffic. The elevator music droned as she inched along.
Angie ticked through the details of her last meeting with Sierra. It had been about money. Sierra wanted more from her divorce. She’d been angry. But Angie had sensed the young woman played a role. Outraged victim. The orphan. The world had once again dumped on
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