39

TUESDAY, 10:25 PM

The lights on the face of the statue are beautiful.

But not as beautiful as Bethany. Her delicate white features give her the appearance of a sad angel, as radiant as the winter moon.

Why don’t they cover her?

Of course, if they only realized how tormented a soul Bethany was, they wouldn’t be quite so upset.

I have to admit that I get a deep chill of excitement standing among the good citizens of my city, watching it all.

I’ve never seen so many police cars in my life. The flashing racks illuminate the parkway like a carnival midway. It is almost a festive atmosphere. There are about sixty or so people gathered. Death is always an attraction. Like a rollercoaster. Let’s get close, but not too close.

Unfortunately, we all get closer one day, whether we like it or not.

What would they think if I opened my coat and showed them what I am carrying? I look to my right. There is a married couple standing next to me. They appear to be in their midforties, white, affluent, well dressed.

“Do you have any idea what happened here?” I ask the husband.

He looks at me, a quick up and down. I do not offend. I do not threaten. “I’m not sure,” he says. “But I think they found another girl.”

“Another girl?”

“Another victim of that . . . rosary psycho.”

I cover my mouth in horror. “Seriously? Right here?”

They nod solemnly, mostly out of a smug sense of pride in being the ones to tell me the news. They are the sort people who watch Entertainment Tonight and immediately race to the phone to be the first to tell their friends about the celebrity death du jour.

“I do hope they catch him soon,” I say.

“They won’t,” the wife says. She is wearing an expensive white wool cardigan. She carries an expensive umbrella. She has the tiniest teeth I’ve ever seen.

“Why do you say that?” I ask.

“Between you and me,” she says, “the police are not always the sharpest knives in the drawer.”

I look at her jawline, the slightly sagging skin on her neck. Does she know that I could reach out, right now, take her face in my hands and snap her spinal cord in one second?

I feel like it. I really do.

Arrogant, self-righteous bitch.

I should. But I won’t.

I have work to do.

Perhaps I’ll follow them home, and pay her a visit when this is all over.