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And all of hell’s wrath.
One less scumbag in the world. I look at his body, intestines spilling onto the bloody floor, a grotesque display of his sins. His death came quicker than he deserved, but he’s dead.
Another name crossed off The List.
Good luck, Frankie. Let’s see what you make of this.
The tape dissolves as I meticulously wipe every surface, leaving not a single trace of my presence. Each swipe of the cloth is methodical, precise. A spotless crime scene will stump forensics, but that’s just child’s play.
Fixing the door, I ensure it looks untouched, wiping the knobs until they gleam.
Exiting through the side door, I hop the back fence, landing in a CCTV-free alley, courtesy of my tech know how. My movements are swift and silent, just a shadow slipping through the night.
When I get home, I shower with a smile on my face, the hot water washing away the day’s sins. I think about Francesca, her sharp mind working overtime as she tries to piece together this puzzle. Oh, the field day she’ll have trying to figure this one out.
Maybe I’ll fuck her again before she finds him.
After my shower, I sit in my easy chair and watch Francesca concentrating on crime scene photos in her kitchen.
She’s thinking about me.
And she doesn’t even know it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Frankie
“You ready for this?” Jay’s tone is somber, probably because of the wife’s tears that have a way of sticking with you long after the disgusting images of the vic’s body fade from memory.
“Probably not,” I grumble, making my way to the cheerful blue front door. “But we’re here.” I nod toward the door like it’s mocking us. “You?”
“Fuck no,” he growls and motions for me to go first. Typical Jay.
I let out a breath as I step inside the home. A few officers stand sentry near the exits to protect the crime scene until the forensics team arrives. I offer a grim smile as we head toward the back of the house.
“The side exit near Johnston is the key. Sneaky way in and out without being spotted,” I mutter.
Jay scoffs. “There are forty thousand cameras in this city, plus tens of thousands more of those doorbell cameras and other home surveillance systems. There’s no way the perp got in and out without being seen.”
“You hope,” I say, looking at the staircase leading to the split level basement. Feels claustrophobic already. “Not much room to maneuver down here.” The room is only about eight feet high and full of gym equipment.
“Don’t need a lot of space to yank out someone’s guts,” Jay grumbles as we approach the body on the incline bench, a five-foot blood stain surrounding it like a fucking rug. “What the fuck?” he sighs, running his hand through his hair.
I pull on some gloves while examining the body from head to toe, noting the similarities to our other victims before giving my first thoughts. First, the disembowelment. It points to the same killer, but not quite. “The cuts are different this time.” I point to the incision where the navel used to be. “He cut his belly button out.”
Jay leans in, carefully examining the cut. “That’s fucked up. It’s like he did it to cause more pain.” He looks up at me, a question in his eyes. “You still think this is your guy?”
I roll my eyes. “He’s not my guy. But it could be a copycat. Or he’s changing his M.O. again just to fuck with us.” My gut is telling me that this isn’t a copycat, that this guy is fucking with us. I lean forward to get a better look at the body.
Jay’s gaze shifts to the glue around the mouth. “He likes glue.”
I nod, but nothing makes sense. “Eyes are closed, too.” I lift the eyelid, nothing but an empty socket. “No eyeball.” The other eye, same fate. “Both gone.”
“That’s new,” Jay says with a bit too much glee.
I glare at him.
“What? It’s just a nice twist. Something new. Maybe you and Novak can figure out what the fuck it means.”
