The last thing he remembered was being straddled by Logan Fox, that bloody fist soaring toward him with malicious intent. He was helpless, pinned down with nothing to do but accept the violence. To take each punch like a man, laughing the whole time to preserve his pride.
Now, things were different. It felt like he had only blinked, and here he was in the back of an ambulance. His wrist was fastened to the rail with too-tight handcuffs. A police officer was sitting beside him while the medical professional got to work, cleaning up his face with a cotton ball that stung like a bee.
What had happened between now and then, the killer wondered? Clearly, he had survived the night, but at what cost? His freedom was gone – that much was obvious – but what was to become of the private eye? When could he ever begin his project again, to recreate his love by using the citizens of Chicago as his tools?
The answer came out of nowhere. As soon as the ambulance door opened, the killer got a tunnel view of the world outside. The church stood in the distance like some proud house of reason. At its feet was a bunch of gravestones, standing out like jagged teeth. He could see where his girlfriend’s ashes had been spread and Logan Fox walking past them with his arms folded. He was caked in mud and hunched over, but he didn’t look back. This only made the killer mad, his jaw aching as he bit down with raw hatred.
Yes, the answer was so clear now. Someday, when he got out of prison. Whatever it took, he would find his way out, and when Logan Fox thought he had gotten away with this, the killer would come back at him with everything he had. He would take away everything, just as he had all those years ago.
Only this time, he would kill him when he was done.