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Maybe it was because of those ten years that he wasworking so quickly. The drowning victims, the blind man, and now the seventhsign. His eleventh victim. He’d do it tonight, meaning he would have taken sixlives in less than a week. Ten years ago, he’d staggered them out. He’d gone afull two weeks between the third and fourth signs.
On a few occasions, he’d almost started up again whileMorgan had been away. But he’d fought the urge both times, feeling deep in hissoul that she was to be a part of this…that she needed to be there with him atthe end.
When the urges came, they were hard to battle. But whenthey weren’t there, life had been pretty easy. He’d kept himself busy with hisjob and his hobbies. The job was nothing special, just running simple codingfor a few backend developers for a small banking system.
His hobbies, on the other hand, had gotten quiteinteresting and kept his mind active. They were hobbies he never thought he’denjoy, things he thought he might go to his grave not sharing with anyone.
He had spent six years perfecting the art of knot-tying.He found it to be very therapeutic and would get excited when there was a newone to learn. He’d followed some videos on the internet but really enjoyedchecking books out from the library and following along. From modern-day,simple knots all the way back to the knots they’d used on fishing vesselsduring the Roman Empire, he knew them all now. He loved the way the ropes feltin his hands, how his fingers could mold and control their shapes.
He had also become deeply fascinated with the art oftaxidermy. He enjoyed the way he could create something beautiful and preserveit forever. To him, it was like creating a new creature. He had a few examplesin his basement at home, but only a few. After a while, the taxidermy hadreminded him of what he really wanted to be doing. So he’d put a stop to itbefore too much interest had been expelled.
But that was then, while he’d been waiting. Now, thingswere moving right along. Morgan was back and his work was back on track.
He already had a victim in mind and was forcing himselfto wait it out. For now, he sat a block away from the apartment building of thedead blind man. He’d watched the hectic flow of cops in and out of thebuilding. He’d even spotted Morgan and her partner. When he spotted her, hecouldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for her. She was determined,focused, and relentless in her pursuit of justice. It was these qualities thathad made her his ultimate nemesis all those years ago. And now she was back andfully invested in the case. He’d always known she was a tenacious one, but tosee her back in action after ten years was impressive.
He’d been very confused about how he felt upon seeingMorgan. He supposed he needed to fully understand it before he killed tonight…beforehe finished his work. While he knew it was impossible, he wished he could seeher up close and in action before he took this eleventh life. Ten years…surelyit could change someone. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was the same personshe had been before. Had the ten years in prison changed her? Had it dulled hersenses or weakened her resolve?
Did she still understand the weight and importance ofwhat he was doing? Did she still want to stop him as a means of justice andwhat she thought was right, or was it just revenge?
With a sigh, he stood up from the bench and took one lastlook at the apartment.
He’d know soon enough.
More than that, he’d see her up close and personal beforethe day was done. He felt certain of that. And he also felt certain it wouldmean the death of one of them.
He wasn’t sure about Morgan Cross, but as for him…well,he wasn’t nearly ready to die.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Skunk greeted Morgan warmly as she walked through thefront door. She made a fuss over him for a moment, petting him and calling hima good boy, before allowing him outside to do his business. As he set aboutthis, Morgan stood in the doorway of her father’s house, peering inside andwondering if it would ever truly feel like home again.
She wasn’t a big believer in the supernatural, but shewondered if she might find it easier to accept the place as her own if herfather haunted the place. If there were such things as ghosts, her father wouldcertainly be the sort to take up residence in his home just to screw withpeople.
Maybe hewasthere. Maybe he was there and she justcouldn’t see him. After all, she was already being haunted by the Seven SignsKiller case. What was one more ghost in her life?
Done in the yard, Skunk came rushing back through thedoorway and led her inside. He’d certainly had no problems quickly thinking ofthis place as his home. He sat down in the middle of the living room floor,cozy on the old rug, and looked up at her as if to ask what their plans werefor the rest of the day.
She sat down on the floor with him and tried to sort itall out. While she didn’t regret hopping on the Seven Signs Killer case rightaway, she did feel it would have been more prudent to wait a while. Now, not onlydid she have that case to worry about, but she had the daunting task of tryingto reinsert herself into society.
She needed to sort out her current cellphone situation.The burner she’d been using was fine for now, but wouldn’t be a viable solutionfor very long. She needed to officially switch the electric bill, water bill,and all other utilities over to her name. Small things, sure, but they neededto be done.
She sat on the rug and managed to pull memories of herfather to the front of her mind, temporarily obliterating the worries and stressof the case. She remembered him clearly in that moment, focusing in on some ofher favorite memories.
She remembered how her father used to take her fishing whenshe was a little girl. He’d pack a lunch and they’d spend the whole day out inthe sun, casting their lines and chatting about life. The smell of the waterand the sound of the birds chirping around them. She remembered how proud hewas of her when she caught her first fish. He used to tell her that fishing wasa lot like life—you never really knew what you were going to catch, but you hadto be patient and willing to take risks.
Another memory came to her, of her and her father sittingon the front porch of this very house just a few months before she’d left forQuantico to start her career with the bureau. Sipping on cheap beer andwatching the world go by. They’d talked about everything and nothing, justenjoying each other’s company. She could feel the warmth of the sun on herskin, and the gentle breeze rustling through her hair.
She didn’t realize it until prison, but those evenings ofdoing nothing on the porch were some of her favorite memories she had of him.Between conversations, they’d play songs from their respective childhoods. Herfather had done his best to get her into Bread, Janis Joplin, and the BeachBoys. And while she did have a soft spot for Janis Joplin, she didn’t thinkanything would ever quite top Nirvana—just a bit before her teenage years, butstill her favorite. Her father, to his credit, had learned all the words to “SmellsLike Teen Spirit” even though he despised the band.
Thinking of him singing that brutal chorus between sipsof beer out on the porch pulled fiercely at her heart. Morgan’s eyes driftedclosed as she allowed herself to fully immerse in these memories, to feel themas if they were happening right now. She could hear her father’s voice andsmell his aftershave.
As she sat there, lost in thought, her phone rang. Shejumped, startled out of her reverie, and fished it out of her pocket. It was alocal number.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Is this Ms. Cross? Ms. Morgan Cross?”
“Yes. Who’s speaking?”
