All he wanted was to see her bleed. A little swish from his knife to hear her scream. Perhaps he could hack off her pinkie finger, too, just for old times’ sake. Even the thought of it made him quiver with excitement.
From where he knelt behind the bush, the Lullaby Killer had a clear view of her house. Kylie Carter was inside, and according to her social media pages, she had been “living her best life.” Little did she know that life was about to come to an end. After years of prepping and planning, Wendell was finally ready to take her out. First, he would take her away like he had all those years ago, but this time, he’d make it impossible for her to run. He even considered starting with her knees, making a hollow crack as he mashed them with a hammer.
The killer realized he was drooling. He wiped it off with his cuff and stood up to make his move. As he rose above the bush, a roaring engine grumbled down the street and screeched to a halt outside the house. The killer cowered back down, watching impatiently as he waited for the driver to get out. Sure enough, it was Mason Black who exited the car, leaving the killer to squeeze his hands into fists. He mumbled a long string of expletives as anger flowed through his veins. He grew so hot he felt like he was about to pass out.
“Goddamn son of a bitch!” he said a little too loud, cupping his hand over his mouth.
Across the street, Mason stopped and turned, perusing his general vicinity. It was the longest few seconds of the killer’s life. He held his breath, keeping perfectly still.
Until Mason moved on.
The killer let out a breath and sneaked out the back of the bush. Around the corner, his RV waited for him, his tools sitting in the front seat. If those tools had a voice, they would demand to know where their next victim was. The killer still wasn’t over it himself—he had almost grabbed the girl, and now—surprise—Mason Black had corrupted his plan.
It was just another reason to make him suffer.