Page 932 of Lessons in Cruelty

And it’s obvious this is just a sample. A teaser of what he has.

I laugh as I watch Bastian Rooke’s carefully constructed life burn to ash while snow drifts over the windshield. Somewhere out there, he and his murderous lovers are on their way to a safe house I’ll never find.

I should be calling for backup. Should report what happened here as soon as possible and get that APB put out.

That’s what Deputy ‘Nice Guy’ Thatcher would do.

I fold the pages carefully and slip them into my jacket pocket, beside the evidence of Rooke’s victims. I take out the tennis bracelet and study it for a moment. There’s an inscription on the inside.

Forever our girl

I radio dispatch as Rooke’s roof collapses in a shower of flames and sparks.

“I need to report a structure fire at the Rooke property off Earl Avenue, about a half mile down the gravel road. Possible gas leak or an electrical fault. No sign of the homeowner.”

Lies come easier these days.

Once you’ve told one and gotten away with it, the rest don’t seem all that daunting.

As I sit in my cruiser, waiting for backup, I find myself thinking about Christmas.

Whether evil is in fact the only way to fight evil.

And whether I’ve even got it in me to fight anything at all.

With Christmas only a few short weeks away, I guess I won’t have long to find out.

I know it’ll be worth the wait.