Page 56 of The Graveyard Girls

He wasn’t done with his killing. And he couldn’t get caught or they’d stop all his fun. Every time he took a girl, a sense of satisfaction and relief filled him as if he’d purged one more demon from his soul.

Before he’d killed her, she’d cried for her mama. Said her parents loved her. That they had money and would pay him if he brought her home.

God, how he could use the money. And if he took her home safely, he’d be a goddamn hero. A chuckle rumbled from his gut. Him, a hero!

But he wasn’t an idiot. Police would want to question him, ask details about how he’d gotten the information. The media would hound him.

That would be too chancy. He had a decent poker face but not that decent.

He stumbled, then veered to the right and followed the river until he found the small cave half buried in the mountain. No one ever came this way. There were signs posting warnings of the toxic land neighboring it. But he’d been here before and didn’t believe in all that bullshit. It would take years of long-term exposure now the fire had died down before the toxins could kill him.

He stooped down and crawled into the cave, then packed dirt around the entrance so if someone did venture by, they’d think it had been closed up for years. The dark interior swallowed him, and he hunkered back against a rock to wait. In spite of the cold outside, warmth from the ground enveloped him and he curled into it and closed his eyes, reliving the kill in his mind.

He’d waited until they’d driven out of Athens and away from the UGA campus, then turned away from the city and made it almost twenty miles before she seemed to get worried.

She twisted her hands together and stared out the window, growing more antsy by the minute.

Finally she broke the silence with a haunted whisper, “Can I borrow your phone to call my mama?”

He cut his eyes toward her. “Sorry the battery’s dead. Just tell me the address and relax.”

She bit down on her lower lip. “That’s okay. Just drop me at a gas station and I can call from there.”

“No, no problem. I don’t mind driving you.”

Her breathing turned choppy as she stared at the darkening sky and realized he hadn’t made the turn toward Watkinsville.

“This isn’t the right way,” she said, her voice tiny and frightened.

His pulse jumped at the fear in her eyes. She reached for the door handle.

Panic streaked her face. “Please just let me out and I’ll walk,” she whispered. “If you want money, my mama will pay you.”

He cut the steering wheel and raced down a deserted road then swung his truck to the shoulder.

She yanked at the door handle, jumped out and began to run. Laughter bubbled in his throat, and he pulled the red scarf from his pocket and followed her. They were in the middle of nowhere. Chasing her would be fun.

He strode after her, picking up his pace as he spotted her ahead. She ducked behind some trees to hide and his laugh erupted, catching in the wind and boomeranging in the air.

“You can run, but you can’t hide,” he sang as he drew closer.

She darted from behind the tree, her feet sending dirt flying as she begun to run again. His heart stuttered when her legs buckled, then he jumped on her. She screamed and kicked and tried to escape, snatching dirt and gravel and throwing it in his face.

Anger seized him and he pressed his knee into her stomach to hold her down then slapped her hard, twice, until her eyes rolled back in her head and her arms fell limply to her sides. Rage and heat burned in his gut, and his first victim’s face flashed behind his eyes, launching him back in time.

Wrapping the scarf around his fingers, he slid it around her neck and tightened it, watching the blood-red silk cut into the delicate skin of her pale throat as he tightened it. Her eyes flew open in terror and he smiled as she dug her fingernails into his hands to pry them loose. He welcomed the pain andcontinued to squeeze, tighter and tighter until her body jerked and convulsed as she gasped for air.

Seconds later, she lost the battle and she went still.

His breath panted out with exhilaration, and he loosened his hold, savoring the emptiness in her eyes and the tears drying on her cheeks.

Heart pounding, he looked down at those red boots and reached for one of them…

SIXTY-TWO

Ellie greeted Sheriff Clint Wallace as he made his way down into the ravine while Derrick stepped aside to review what he knew about Jacey’s family.

“We found a fresh body. She’s been dead less than twenty-four hours,” Ellie told Wallace.