Page 55 of The Grave Artist

Chapter 26

Serial Killing 2.0.

Why should the darker tendencies of human nature not evolve?

A question Damon Garr frequently considered. We progress from Gutenberg to typewriters to invisible bytes making up letters. We progress from oxcarts to horse-drawn buggies to internal combustion to battery power. We progress from passbook savings accounts to credit default swaps (okay, bad example, but the point was otherwise valid).

We progress from ash on cave walls to oil paints to acrylic to Dall-E and Stable Diffusion large language model art generators.

It was geniuses with foresight, or at least doggedentrepreneurswith foresight, who tugged society forward—Sisyphus pushing a rock that never rolls backward, always up the hill.

Now examining his computer, as he sat in his car overlooking Santa Monica Beach, Damon reflected that this described him perfectly. With some pride—why not?—he decided that he was among those innovators, both geniusanddogged, who move society forward. In his case, it was simply that his specialty was a bit different: evil.

And once he’d hit on his theory, he felt an urgency to push forward up the hill, to refine, to perfect.

And, of course, to enjoy.

Planning now, scheming.

Which was part of the fun.

Damon loved social media. It was one of the factors that made Serial Killing 2.0 work. The information people carelessly shed about themselves ... astonishing. They were like heretics in the Middle Ages, camping out in front of the local church, wearing the Latin equivalent of anI Heart Satanbutton.

Next stop, bonfire.

Did they not comprehend that there might be consequences for being so foolishly candid?

He now continued to update information. For the past few days he’d been checking out another soon-to-be-wed couple, blond and jovial. They had throngs of friends, to judge from the posts of the bachelor and bachelorette party pictures. Lots of family too.

And mundane jobs in the food service industry, not law enforcement (healwayschecked that first).

By rights, Damon might have taken a breather after the killing and the funeral at Cedar Hills and the knife-fest with the cop afterward. He was still traumatized by the appearance of the police. They’d nearly caught him when he was on the brink of his next evolution. What if Thomas Alva Edison had been arrested a week before he’d discovered the filament that worked in the incandescent light bulb?

But this was not a day of rest, a day to lick wounds.

This was Day Four.

Magic Day Four, and he was required to strike again. The aperitivo with the teenage girl at the cemetery hadn’t worked out. No matter.

Damon had those other plans.

James and Robin . . .

Damon was pleased with his selection of the couple for one other reason. The choice of venue for the wedding, which was scheduled for today.

The location itself.

If there was one place that offered the intriguing combination of challenge and convenience, this was it.

A glance at his phone to check the time.

Damon put the car in gear and sped onto the street, heading for his home. He had some unusual preparations to make before the world said goodbye to James or Robin.

Chapter 27

Jake returned to his workstation, cradling the coffee he’d made in the Keurig machine upon entering the Garage.

He set the cup down and before he took a sip, he called the hospital where Frank Tandy had been admitted. He’d wanted to talk to Sanchez, but she’d left. The nurse or administrator he spoke to wouldn’t give him any information about the detective’s condition, even after Jake lied, claiming he was a relative.