Page 11

Chapter 10

Eve

Eve told herself she wouldn’t do it. She said she would behave.

Oh well.

With a sigh, she raised her hands to slightly adjust her new acquisition: a white mask with two hollow spaces for her eyes. It was the kind of thing you wear to a horror movie marathon, or at Halloween. Not to wait for some drunken loser in a sketchy neighbourhood at midnight. It also wasn’t the comfiest thing she’d ever worn, but it did the job. After her previous mistake with the 11’s, she could not afford any potential witnesses even spotting a bit of skin, so here she was, playing ghostface while stalking her new suspect.

Potential suspect . She had no proof whatsoever of his role as the psychopath, but the police considered this guy’s name important enough to place it at the top on the anti-psycho team whiteboard at the station. Jody was apparently well known as a sex offender before the war, and even though he didn’t torture or kill his victims then, he received a diagnostic of PTSD following his war days. Eve knew way too well what war could do to you, so here she was, alternating between standing, stretching, and kneeling, in the darkest corner she could find in this sad neighbourhood.

Jody had been hanging out in the same pub for the past four freaking hours, and there was only so much she could take. Any other day she would have waited patiently for him in his house, like she usually did, but if this guy was the killer there was no way she would take the risk of letting him hurt another girl just because Eve was feeling lazy. That said, the longer she stayed here, the more she thought there was no way the guy could get it up enough to rape a girl tonight.

Sha king her leg, ankylosed, she thought about her plan. It was basic, and quite bad. Wait for him, follow him, get into his house, make him talk.

Psychopath? Great, he can die. Not a psychopath? Well, technically speaking, he was still a rapist anyway, so death was still on the menu.

A quick thought brushed her mind. She told her Guild she would not go on any mission right now, just taking a breather, letting the whole “serial killer” business cool down for a bit. But what the Guild didn’t know could not hurt them, right?

If they learn about this, I’m in such deep shit.

Eve groaned in her dark corner. She had spent the past two days sneaking around the anti-psycho team, being the perfect little secretary, offering coffee to the tired detectives while eyeing their files and notes. The team was at a loss, but they had pulled a few names from old files and added some information on the board, enticing Eve to read them. She had duly noted the names and decided to check her favourite profile for a potential serial killer. And now here she was, waiting in the cold, feeling like an absolute idiot. On a Thursday night. Cyrus had offered her a visit, promising her a massage, and she had refused because of her plans to catch and torture Jody. She was now regretting her decision.

Regret quickly left when she saw him, a hesitant, stumbling man, recognising the red cap he was wearing when he went in, now looking as if it would not stay on his dishevelled head for long.

“Finally,” she muttered, and checking her mask a last time she got ready to follow him. White mask and hoodie, how about this for discretion?

The man was walking painfully slow, thankfully heading towards his street, located only 300meters or so from his favourite pub. Eve was losing patience with the snail speed of Jody, the guy was so drunk he was taking one step forward and two steps backwards, and she was so done with it. Eve rolled her eyes. She glanced around and took off her mask, enjoying the fresh air on her skin. She inhaled deeply, buried the mask in her bag, and crossed the street, keeping her hoodie over her head.

“Hey bud, you need a hand?” she spoke fast, trying to hide her strong accent, then gave him the smile she knew would get her anything she wanted with men. Blurry eyes met hers, blinking. She caught him quickly as his body dangerously started falling to his left side.

“Imdrunk,”

“Yeah no kidding,” Eve mumbled. She placed her arm behind him, guiding him towards his flat. She had done her research and knew exactly where to go, hoping he didn’t lose his keys. She scanned the street, a few walkers were strolling across the way but nobody was paying attention to them, who from far enough away looked like two pretty drunk friends.

As they finally reached his flat, Jody fumbled for his keys, struggling to reach in his pockets.

Eve stood there, tapping her foot. I am so not going into your pocket guy. She pouted, very much rather wanting to head straight to the bloody part of the evening.

Once the toughest part of the evening was done - opening the freaking door - the couple entered the dirty, smelly flat. Eve had to control the disgust coming at her, wincing her nose at the smell; her soft side wanted to understand how hard it could be to take care of yourself. Her not-so-nice side could just not get it.

She puffed dropping him on the first chair she found, and when he tried to aim for the couch instead she went full mode secret agent: blocking his neck, pushing hard on his throat, barely listening to the muffled screams, ignoring the hands trying to reach her. With her other hand she quickly caught one of his arms, snapping a handcuff on his wrist, before the other one. He was way too drunk to resist her, and it was with a silent resignation he started crying.

Eve rolled her eyes, and moved in front of him, her mask back on.

“Jody. Jody?” She snapped her fingers at his face when he didn’t answer, instead still crying, his sad head bent over his chest.

“This can go fast, or slow.” She kneeled close to his eye level. The prisoner finally raised his head, eyes blurry, snot coming out of his nose.

“What do you want?”

“Did you kill them?” Eve showed him three pictures. Roisin, Mary and Emily, all young and beautiful, all smiling. Jody blinked his eyes a few times, taking his time to look at the pictures.

“ No, I have killed no one since the war, I swear.” He took a deep inhale and tipped his head backwards, as if relieved.

“Can you prove it?”

“I don’t need to prove anything to you, bitch!” he spat at her, and it was his mistake.

Eve scoffed, glad the spit had landed on her new mask instead of her pretty smooth skin.

“Then you won’t mind if I make sure of it?”

Jody’s blue eyes were still hazed by the alcohol and he didn’t answer, his head bouncing from side to side, as if he couldn’t control it. When he saw Eve’s knife, he opened his mouth, ready to scream, but she was faster, quickly introducing a ball in his mouth, shutting him off. That’s when she started to cut.