He loved storms. The loud, rumbling thunder. The dangerous lightning. The torrential downpour. Storms were powerful and deadly, just as he was. He felt a strong kinship with tonight’s violent tempest. Carrying the shiny new axe in one hand, the weapon held against his thigh, and the key to Sonya Todd’s house in the other hand, he scanned the area around her backdoor. Who in their right mind would be outside after midnight when it was raining like crazy? He didn’t mind getting wet, didn’t care that his clothes were drenched, that his skin was cold and damp. Somehow it all simply heightened his excite ment, added to his anticipation. After he unlocked the backdoor and eased it open carefully, he stepped inside, and shut the door behind him. Quietly.
Listening for any sound to indicate that his entrance might have alerted her to his presence, he placed the axe against the wall, then patted his soggy jacket pocket. Ah, yes, it was still there, coated with raindrops, but otherwise unharmed. He removed the long-stemmed pink rosebud, then took the tiny key-ring flashlight from his other jacket pocket and used it to search the room. Taking hesitant steps, not wanting to bump into anything and make a noise, he paused as he passed the kitchen table and laid the rose there for safekeeping. He would need it later. A tribute. One lovely flower for another.
He felt inside his pants pocket, checking on the small digital camera. An important part of the game was photographing the kill.
The house was middle-of-the-night quiet. Only the hum of the electric heat pump and the ticking of a rather loud clock disturbed the stillness. Sonya was probably sound asleep. She had made this almost too easy for him, as if she were asking for it. But she would never suspect that a mysterious stranger would use the key she thought was so cleverly hidden to enter her home. In the dead of night. With the intention of killing her.
Wouldn’t she be surprised.
A gleeful chuckle escaped his lips.
Shh … Must be quiet. Don’t want her to scream. Can’t have her telephoning for help.
Using the tiny flashlight to guide his steps, he crept through the house, into the living room and down the hall. Two doors lay on either side, one door closed, the other open.
His heartbeat accelerated, his breath quickened. He passed through the open doorway and straight into Sonya’s bedroom. He could barely make out the dark shadow that rested under the covers in her bed. The power had stayed off for a little over an hour, but it was on now and with a flip of a switch he could cover her room in light. No, that wasn’t what he wanted. When he had her subdued, then he might turn on a bedside lamp to provide just enough light so that she could see what he was going to do to her. So that he could watch the terror in her eyes as he chopped off her arms.
Apparently, she had left a nightlight burning in the bathroom, because a glimmer of illumination wafted beneath the closed bathroom door.
On tiptoe, he made his way to the side of the bed, then eased one knee down on the edge.
She was such a sound sleeper.
He smiled to himself.
Easy. So easy.
He slithered into the bed alongside her. She grunted and flopped over, from her side onto her back. He propped himself on one elbow and stared down at her. Lovely, even at thirty-five. Her shoulder-length blond hair draped her oval face. He barely resisted the temptation to curl a strand of her hair around his finger.
The covers clung to her from the waist down, leaving the upper half of her body exposed to the night’s chill and to his scrutiny. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his night vision improved, enough so that he could see she wore nothing under the silk robe that had parted just enough to reveal the inner curve of her luscious breasts.
His penis twitched. Hardened.
He would not have to be inside her to experience pleasure. That would come later, once the deed was done, the pictures taken, and he was safely away.
In one swift, calculated move, he rose up, threw one leg over her body and straddled her; simultaneously, he covered her mouth with one hand and pressed himself on top of her, trapping her beneath him.
Her eyelids flew open and she stared up at him in shock and disbelief.
For the first few terrifying moments, Sonya thought she was asleep and having a horrible nightmare. But she quickly realized that the man bearing down on her, his breath hot on her face, his warm, damp hand on her mouth, was all too real. She struggled against the force of his weight and shook her head from side to side. He lay down on top of her, his mouth at her ear and spoke in a whispery yet threatening voice.
“Be very still and very quiet.”
She tried to speak, tried to beg him not to hurt her, but all she managed was a jumble of mumbling sounds caught under his open palm.
“Shh … my pretty little flower. Don’t fight me.”
He was going to rape her. She could feel the outline of his erect penis as it twitched against her through the sheet and thin blanket.
Dear God, help me!
Although he wasn’t as tall and big as Paul, he was not a small man. From the weight of his body pressing against hers, she suspected that he was rather heavy. A detail she needed to remember to tell the police. Later. When it was over and he was gone.
As his cheek brushed against hers, she noted that he was clean-shaven. Another detail not to forget.
He squirmed around, but kept her completely trapped beneath him until he moved one shoulder, just enough so that she managed to free her right hand. When she did, he yanked the pillow from the other side of the bed and pressed it down over her face as he lifted his hand from her mouth.
She tried to scream, but it was useless. The pillow muffled the sound.
Was he going to smother her?
She felt him jerk something out of his pants pocket; then he grabbed her wrist and lifted it above her head.
No, don’t. Please don’t. She struggled when he yanked first one and then her other wrist over her head.
He pressed the pillow against her face with his elbow, effectively cutting off her air. So panicked at the thought he was going to suffocate her, she didn’t realize at first what he had done. Not until he lifted the pillow. She gasped for air, but before she could cry out, he placed his hand over her mouth and tossed the pillow onto the floor.
He had tied both of her wrists with some type of cord and had secured each to opposite sides of the intricately carved headboard.
Now he would rape her.
Sonya’s heart beat wildly. Her pulse throbbed in her temples. Suddenly, before she realized his intent, he stuffed a rag in her mouth, then fastened a piece of cloth around her face to hold the gag in place.
While she stared at him pleadingly, he eased up and off her. She tried to make out his face in the semidarkness. He turned his back to her as he stood.
What was he doing? Removing his clothes? Unzipping his pants?
She wiggled about, testing the sturdiness of the ropes that bound her. Ouch. There was no give in the rope. She wasn’t going anywhere, not until he chose to release her.
He switched on the bedside lamp, casting a forty-watt glow over the room. The man turned around and smiled at her. She tried to scream, but the wad of thick cotton in her mouth made it impossible.
She stared at him. Memorize his face. For later. The more you remember, the more help you’ll be to the police when they—
He had no qualms about her seeing his face.
That was a bad sign, wasn’t it?
“Hello, Sonya. You’re such a lovely blond flower. And worth fifteen points to me.”
What was he talking about? How could she be worth fifteen points?
Dear God—was raping her part of a sick game he played with his victims? Did he keep some kind of score of his conquests?
He removed the covers, shoving them to the foot of the bed. She shivered from head to toe. He reached out, loosened the belt on her robe, and spread it apart, revealing her naked body.
Why hadn’t she put on her pajamas or at the very least a gown? Why had she simply toppled into bed wearing only the robe?
“You’re as lovely as you were when you were crowned Miss Magnolia, oh so long ago.”
Had he known her back then, when she was Miss Magnolia? Had he been infatuated with her? Had she spurned his advances?
She inspected him as best she could in her awkward position, half sitting and half lying. He was about five-nine and hefty. His belly hung over his belt and his face was round and full. He was indeed clean-shaven, his cheeks smooth and soft-looking. His brown hair was short and neat. And, at the moment, slightly damp.
He studied her with a set of large hazel brown eyes. “You stay put, my sweet pink rose. I’ll be right back and then the fun will begin.”
Where was he going?
She tugged on her bound wrists until she groaned with pain.
Gone only a few minutes, he returned hurriedly, plodding into the room with heavy feet. She turned to look at him and gasped, the sound trapped by the gag. He carried a sinister-looking axe.
Dear God in heaven, he’s going to kill me!
“Which shall I remove first?” he asked as he gazed at her, an expression of absolute glee on his fat face. “Your right arm or your left?”
She shook her head. The sound of her silent screams echoed in her mind.
“It takes both hands and arms to play the violin, doesn’t it, so I have no choice but to remove both arms.” He lifted his weapon. “Hmm … I think the right arm first. Is that okay with you?”
Help me! Help me! The prayer repeated over and over in her heart as her attacker came closer and closer, the axe lifted and ready to strike.
When he swung the axe, she closed her eyes.
Unbearable pain. Blood everywhere. Terrifying realization.
Then Sonya passed out before he struck the second blow.
He stood under the warm shower, washing away Sonya Todd’s lovely red blood. As the crimson water swirled down inside the floor drain, he sighed with a delectable sense of pleasure. Taking a human life gave one a feeling of God-like power. There was nothing else like it, no experience equal to it, no drug capable of creating the astounding sensation of absolute control. He chose who died, when she died, and how she died.
With each kill, the thrill increased, leaving him only temporarily satisfied and longing for a new conquest.
After drying off, he donned his silk pajamas and robe, then entered the run-of-the-mill motel room on the outskirts of Tupelo. He hated staying in these working-class places, with no room service and no down comforters.
He lay on the king-size bed, atop the horrid floral spread and stared up at the popcorn ceiling. The lonesome wail of a train whistle pierced the silence of early morning, and within minutes a speeding locomotive rumbled along the nearby train tracks.
Like so many of his other victims, Sonya had been an easy kill. By leaving a door key hidden under a fake rock in her front yard, she had all but invited him into her home, into her bedroom.
He loved surprising his victims, and usually settled for simply seeing the shocked expression on a woman’s face when she realized he wasn’t who she thought he was. But with Sonya, the experience had been even better because she had awakened to find him in bed with her, on top of her. He shivered with the memory of the way she had felt lying beneath him, her slender body trembling with fear. Closing his eyes, he allowed his thoughts to take him back to the very moment Sonya had seen the axe in his hand and had realized he was going to kill her. Involuntarily, his hand rose from his side, his fingers curled as if clutching the axe handle and once again he swung the deadly blow that severed her right arm.
His penis hardened.
He groaned deep in his throat.
Sonya had passed out, so he had waited until she regained consciousness before he took off her left arm. Knowing it would be only a matter of time before she bled to death, she had stared at him, and he had triumphantly watched the expression of pain and helplessness in her eyes.
Recalling her agonizing moans as she died and savoring the moment, knowing he could relive it again and again once he printed the photos he’d taken with his digital camera, he reached inside his pajama bottoms and touched himself. With the image of a dying Sonya in his mind, he climaxed.
Shuddering.
Quivering.
Alive in a way he was only after a fresh kill.