Page 30 of Girl, Bound

‘He says he didn’tmake any,’ Holbrook said.

Ella said, ‘Yeah. Idon’t see why LaPlante would lie about it. Finding this killer means he goesfree. It’s in his best interest to be honest with us.’

Ella leaned back inher chair, her eyes drifting shut as she let the details of the case wash overher. The victims, the body bags, the strange and seemingly disparate pieces ofa puzzle that refused to be solved. It was like trying to navigate a maze blindfolded,every turn leading to another dead end.

But she couldn't giveup. Couldn't let the frustration and the exhaustion cloud her judgment. She hadto think like the killer, had to put herself in his twisted mind and try to seethe world through his eyes.

What could possiblyconnect a sex worker and a pharma exec? On the surface, they seemed to havenothing in common, no reason for their paths to cross. But there had to besomething, some thread that tied them together in the killer's mind.

And then there werethe body bags. Why go to all the trouble of acquiring them, of stuffing hisvictims inside like macabre presents waiting to be unwrapped? It couldn't justbe for convenience, for the ease of transport and disposal. No, there had to bemore to it than that.

Was it a message, ataunt to the authorities? A way of saying ‘look what I can do, look how easilyI can snuff out a life and wrap it up in a neat little package’? Or was itsomething deeper, something more symbolic?

Ella mentally siftedthrough the possibilities. Serial killers, especially those with a mission,were known for their love of symbolism. They saw their crimes as works of art,as grand statements about the nature of life and death. Every detail, every choice,was laden with meaning.

She thought back towhat the coroner had said about the toxicology reports. The sedatives in thevictims' systems, the way they had been paralyzed but still conscious when thebags were zipped shut. It was a level of cruelty that went beyond the pale.

But why? Why go tosuch lengths to ensure their suffering, to make their final moments a wakingnightmare? Was it simply for the thrill of it, for the rush of power andcontrol? Or was there something more, some deeper meaning behind the madness?

And then, like a boltof lightning, it hit her. A detail from the interrogation with James LaPlante,a throwaway comment that had seemed innocuous at the time but now blazed withsudden significance.

Ella's eyes snappedopen, her breath coming fast and shallow. She knew, with a certainty that wentbeyond reason or logic, that she had something.

‘You’re quiet, Dark,’Ripley jumped in. ‘You got something?’

Ella snapped out ofher reverie. ‘Mia, I think I know what connects our victims. And if I'm right,we're dealing with a whole new level of crazy.’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

His instruments oftransformation lay beside him on the passenger seat; an unholy trinity ofsyringe, sedative, and body bag. The needle glinted in the sickly light, asilver fang eager to sink into yielding flesh. The sedative, a vial of liquidoblivion, promised a drowning embrace, a plunge into the abyss of nothingness.

And the body bag, asleek, obsidian cocoon, hungered to enfold another lost soul in its suffocatingcaress.

A smile slitheredacross his face. Oh, how they deluded themselves, these pitiful creatures thatscurried about their lives like rats in a maze. They thought they could erasethe stains of their past, could bury their transgressions beneath a veneer of respectability.But he saw through the façade, saw the maggots writhing in the rancid meat oftheir cores.

And he would be theone to strip away the skin of lies, to lay bare the festering reality beneath.

His gaze fixed uponthe man across the street, his next unwitting disciple on the path to rebirth.He had peered into the abyss of the man's history, had dredged up every fetidsecret and sordid deed.

The betrayals, thelies, the acts of cruelty and cowardice. They clung to the man like a secondskin, a caul of corruption that begged to be ripped asunder.

And rip it, he would.He would flay the man's soul, would peel away the layers of deceit until onlythe raw, quivering core remained. And then, in that moment of agonizing truth,he would grant the ultimate mercy.

The press had alreadytaken to calling him a monster, a lunatic, a serial slayer. They wereblind, their eyes sealed shut by the crusted discharge of their own ignorance.But he would make them see, would pry open their minds and pour in the searinglight.

And if they screamed,if they wept and begged for mercy, well, that was all part of the process. Thecrucible of change was always wreathed in flames, and the path to redemptionwas paved with the bones of the unworthy.

His hand closed aroundthe syringe in a lover's caress. Soon, oh so soon, he would plunge it into theman's flesh, would watch the light fade from his eyes as the sedative draggedhim down into the depths of oblivion.

The man across thestreet stirred, and perhaps through some primal instinct, he could feel theweight of the predator's gaze. He glanced around, a frown creasing his brow, asif some part of him could feel the icy breath of fate upon his neck.

But the moment passed,and he shook off the unease, the fool's confidence of the doomed. He resumedhis path.

He started up theengine, following him on four wheels. The man was on the move, his pacequickening as if some subconscious dread spurred him onward.

But there would be noescape, no reprieve from the fate that stalked him. He rolled forward, carefulnot to let the engine draw attention. The man moved with the oblivious haste ofthe hunted, but he never looked back, never broke stride, a lamb blissfullyunaware of the wolf that stalked him through the urban jungle.

Patience. He couldfeel the familiar itch crackling beneath his skin, the dark appetites thathowled for satisfaction. But he bided his time like a coiled serpent awaitingthe ideal moment to strike. He had chosen this place with care, this liminalstretch of city where the veil between civilization and savagery grew thin. Thedenizens of this place knew better than to bear witness, knew to avert theireyes and bar their doors to the screams that pierced the night.

---