Page 197 of The Wicked

“Goodbye.” I ended the call, exiting his message box to click on Gemma’s.

Yesterday

Gemma (blonde car highway):

Hi, my love! I’m thinking of getting a tattoo; which do you think suits me best? An eagle or a dove?

1:34 P.M.

Gemma (blonde car highway):

I think I’m going to go with a dove; it’s more fitting. I’m gonna have it under my left boob. I’ll send a picture when it’s done!

2:01 P.M.

Gemma (blonde car highway):

It’s done! Omg, it’s gorge!

(Sent a photo)

You like????

5:55 P.M.

The dove drawing was really beautiful, larger than I imagined, and it suited her skin complexion.

I was impressed.

Today

Gemma (blonde car highway):

Are you okay? You didn’t read this orrespond. Did your victims finally fight back and kill you? Omg! Do I need to call 112??? Fuck, I don’t even know your address.

Hope you’re okay. TEXT ME BACK SO I DON’T DIE WITH WORRY!

11:28 A.M.

I shook my head. It was good, the kind of friendship we shared. She texted every day, and I responded whenever I wasn’t too busy. Gemma was a free-spirited woman who reminded me so much of my sister. While their personalities might differ in several ways, I shared a closeness with this stranger that had me adding her to the list of people I had to make sure were okay before I reached my end goal.

But first I had to figure out why I was drawn to her.

Me:

Hello.

Me:

I apologize for the delay in response. I had a rough week.

Me:

The dove tattoo looks perfect. I like it. The artist did a good job.

Me:

If it’s no trouble for you, I would like to see you again, maybe at a restaurant of your choosing. Not tonight, but sometime between tomorrow and next day. Let me know your schedule.