Page 28 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats (Till Death Do Us Part #1)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Atticus

After the second murder, on Aberdeen St., I find Lilah lying on a bed in one of the bedrooms.

“It’s a waterbed!” she says when I step into the room, wiggling her body. The bed rolls and she smiles up at the ceiling. “Let’s fuck on it!”

I frown, looking around at the room. Stains on the carpet. Peeling wallpaper. Smoke stains on the ceiling. Soiled clothes everywhere.

“How about I buy one for the house and we fuck on that? This one is a bit revolting.”

She leans up on her elbows, pouting.

“But seeing you kill gets me so hot.” She bites her bottom lip, gaze going to my crotch. It makes my dick twitch.

“Kitten, I’m afraid if we spend any more time in this house we will both end up with Tetanus and some sort of lung infection from inhaling whatever toxicity is in the air. Please, let’s leave.”

“Fine,” she whines, getting out of the bed. I smack her ass as she walks by. She cries out, glaring at me over her shoulder.

“That’s for talking back,” I say with a pointed look.

She grins but keeps on going.

Pedro Santos was sitting at his kitchen table eating leftover pizza when we walked into the house. I figured the kitchen was as good a place as any, so that’s where I killed him.

Lilah wanted to give scooping eyeballs out another go, and so I let her. Only this time, I had her do it after I killed him, this way she could practice without resistance. If she finds the best way to go in, it’ll be easier to do when someone is fighting.

Like the other guy, and most of my kills, I use a knife found in the kitchen. Unfortunately for Pedro, all of his knives were dull. The first one I stabbed him with broke off inside him, and I had to find a second. It made carving the heart into his chest difficult, but I got it done.

Lilah’s first eyeball removal was her testing which side was best to scoop from. She went in confident on the second eye and it popped out right away. She was so proud.

As I said I would, I order a waterbed the moment we’re home.

Though we’ll never get to use it. They’re expensive as hell and hard to find.

No where around here makes them anymore since they aren’t in high demand.

The upkeep is ridiculous. But if my kitten wants it, she will have it.

Though, it’ll end up being something we never use.

We go into the bathroom that’s off the kitchen, the one that has a second door that leads to the back patio.

We strip our clothes and jump into the shower, making sure to scrub ourselves good.

Once we’re out, we dry off and head upstairs to put on fresh clothes.

Then we get started on our clean up routine.

Lilah takes the clothes and the towels outside to the fire pit to burn, while I clean the bathroom and each room we walked through.

Once that’s done, I go to the car and clean that next.

It seems Lilah already took the plastic bag full of the clothes we wore at the scene—those get burned too.

None of this is a guarantee, but it’s the best we can do.

After each murder is finished, I call Rex to make sure he can pop in and do a sweep.

“Hey,” Lilah says, finding me in the library when she’s done. I smile up at her, but frown when I see her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just a headache,” she says, crawling onto my lap and curling up like a cat. “I sometimes get bad migraines, and I think one is coming on.”

I kiss her forehead. “What can I do to help?”

“Bring me to bed? Cold towel. Dark.” She buries her face against my neck, and I stand, carrying her bridal style up to our bedroom. Once she’s tucked into bed, I close the blinds and go to the bathroom to wet a face cloth with cold water.

“Where do you want this, Kitten?” I ask softly. She points to her forehead, not opening her eyes. I drape it where she asked, then kiss her lips. “I’ll be downstairs. I’ll check on you soon.”

I stand in the doorway, watching her for a moment before heading back into my office. With nothing to distract me, not that I’m complaining about my sexy distraction that is Lilah, I’m able to look into something that’s been bugging me.

Opening up my laptop, I tap on the browser and type in Boston Serial Killer.

I read the article—which was updated yesterday.

There is no new information, nothing I don’t already know.

That’s a good thing. If they aren’t reporting anything new, they likely don’t have anything new.

Violet is still safe. But that won’t last for long, because in the last two weeks since I’ve learned about this, she’s killed three more people.

Authorities haven’t released anything about the writing on the mirrors, and I doubt they will.

It won’t do anyone any good to know that information, and it’s leverage they can use to help find the real killer.

I’m pretty sure she and I are the only people who would ever put that together.

It’s nothing that leads right to her. It’s personal shit that she’s been carrying around.

I lean back in my chair, staring at the screen. All eleven men look just like Thomas. How many men are in the area that fit that description? There could be thousands, I guess. Never really thought about it.

All the recent kills are concentrated closer to home, meaning she’s in the area. So if I could figure out where she’s going next, I could stop her. I could cut her off and help her. Make her see reason. So how do I find men in this area?

I pull my phone from my pocket and go to the app store to look up dating apps. I find one that looks promising, not that I know anything about this, but it has a lot of users and a high rating. Plus, according to the description, you can put in the type of person you are looking for.

I make a new email then set up an account, only I don’t use my own information. I use Lilah’s. She won’t mind, and it’s not like the profile will stay for long anyway. I only need to look at people around me. At least if it’s her, it can be easily explained away.

The app is easy to navigate, and I go through the setup process. Once it’s complete, it shows me people who are supposed to match what I’ve marked as interested in. I swipe through profiles until I see a man who catches my eye.

He could work.

I close out of the app and search up his name on the internet.

His name pops up as a grocery store manager, and when I do some more digging, I find his address.

This memory of mine is convenient, because I don’t have to worry about writing anything down—no evidence for police to find; nothing to incriminate me. It’s all in my head.

I go back to the app and spend over an hour swiping through people, only to find one other guy who could work. But there’s something about the first one that’s holding my attention. He could be next. I can’t pinpoint what the difference is between the two men, I just feel that it’s him.

I close my laptop, grab my cell, and hurry upstairs to check on Lilah. She’s snoring, the damp facecloth pushed down over her eyes. My poor kitten…

Her cell is on the nightstand, so I plug it in and put it on vibrate.

I grab my keys to head out, locking up the house before I go.

Once I’m in the car, I send her a text to let her know I had to run out and to text me when she’s awake.

I’ll come right back. I’ve never dealt with migraines and don’t know anyone who has had them, other than my mother.

She would be down for days, lying in bed and throwing up.

When she felt better, she would explain that it was just a bad headache and she’s much better but will probably be tired for a few days. I should have cared more than I did.

Lilah will be okay; she just needs to sleep. My mother said that helped. My house is safe, and it’s not like anyone would show up at the house anyway. Besides, I won’t be too far. I just need to sit on this house for a while, watch this guy, and see if I find Violet sniffing around.

The house is easy to find, in a heavily populated residential neighborhood right on the outskirts of Boston. My car fits in with the others on the road, and so I park across the street.

I haven’t spoken to Violet in years. I have no idea what she’s been doing or what she’s like. I don’t know what she’s been through or how she’s been surviving. I know nothing about her, yet I still feel the connection. These killings are her, and I need to help her before she gets caught.

It’s been nearly three hours, and I’ve seen nothing so far. It’s been a quiet night and nearing two am. When I first pulled up, I was sure this would be a rowdy neighborhood, just based on the number of houses.

It’s almost three in the morning when I finally see movement.

There’s someone walking quickly down the sidewalk, toward the house.

It catches my attention, and though it’s dark and I can’t tell for sure, it could be her.

The figure is feminine, so I assume it’s a woman.

I put my hand on the door handle, ready to jump out… when my phone starts buzzing.

Kitten.

I pick it up to answer, keeping my gaze on the woman who just disappeared along the side of the fence and into the backyard.

“Hey,” I say quickly. “How are you feeling?”

I shut the car off and open the door an inch.

“Head still hurts. Where are you?” She sounds sleepy, and maybe still in pain.

“Sitting on a house.”

“When are you coming home?” she whines.

“I can be home in an hour if I get off the phone right now.”

“K,” she breathes out. “Fuck me when you get home.”

“Anything you want, Kitten. Can’t wait.”

I end the call and get out of the car, shoving the phone and my key into my pocket. I hurry across the street and follow the same path I just saw the woman go.

There is a possibility this isn’t Violet. It could be a prostitute or a child sneaking home. It could be anyone, but… something in my gut tells me it’s her. So I do the only thing I can do. I follow my instincts and walk through the darkness.