Page 15 of Girl, Bound

She could almost seeit in her mind's eye, the killer lying in wait, his trap set and baited. Andtheir Jane Doe, desperate for her next hit, following him into the shadows likea lamb to the slaughter.

Ella continued, ‘Aworking girl might think twice about going into a dark alley with a stranger.But the promise of a fix? That's a siren song too strong to resist.’

There was a moment ofsilence, but then Holbrook’s phone chimed. He fished it out of his pocket.

‘Coroner's got theautopsy results ready for you,’ he said, pocketing the phone. ‘Reckon you'llwant to take a look, see if there's anything that might point you in the rightdirection.’

Ella nodded, her mindalready racing ahead. The autopsy, the key to unlocking the secrets of thedead. She could only hope that their Jane Doe would have a story to tell, aclue that would lead them one step closer to their unsub.

She glanced at Ripley,seeing the same determined glint in her partner's eyes. They were two hunterson the scent, ready to follow this trail of blood and horror wherever it mightlead.

And as they followedHolbrook out of the alley and into the waiting car, Ella couldn't shake thefeeling that they were being watched, that somewhere in the shadows, theirkiller was waiting, biding his time until the moment was right to strike again.Next to stalkers, mission-oriented offenders were the most determined speciesof serial killer on the spectrum, and Ella guessed this was just the beginningof what was to come.

CHAPTER SEVEN

He sat at the woman'sdesk, working his magic. To an outsider, he might have seemed like just anotherface in the crowd, a forgettable cog in the machine of corporate America. Butthere was more to him than met the eye, a secret that burned beneath the surfacelike a slow-acting poison.

He couldn't help butoverhear the conversation happening just a few feet away, the woman's voicecarrying over the din of clacking keyboards and humming fluorescent lights. Shewas talking about her husband, and from the sound of it, the guy was a real pieceof work.

'I swear, sometimes Idon't know whether to kiss him or strangle him,' the woman said with a laughthat didn't quite reach her eyes. 'He's a great father, don't get me wrong, buthis temper. It's like living with a time bomb.'

The man felt a flickerof something in his chest, a spark of recognition that he couldn't quite place.He knew all too well what it was like to live with a monster, to wake up everyday wondering if today would be the day that everything fell apart. But he alsoknew that people could change, that even the darkest of souls could findredemption if they were willing to work for it.

He wondered about thewoman's husband, this enigma of a man who could be both a loving parent and araging tyrant. What demons lurked beneath the surface, driving him to lash outat the people he was supposed to protect? And more importantly, did he have thestrength to face those demons head-on, to become the man his family needed himto be?

The man shook hishead, trying to clear away the cobwebs of speculation. It wasn't his place tojudge, to play armchair psychologist for a stranger's marriage. He had a job todo, and he'd be damned if he let himself get distracted by the sordid details ofsomeone else's life.

With a final flourish,he finished his task, a small victory that never failed to give him a sense ofsatisfaction. There was something almost magical about the way he could fixbroken things, restoring them to their former glory with just a few well-placedtweaks.

'Looks like you're allset,' he said, flashing the woman a smile that was equal parts charm andprofessionalism. 'Just a little hiccup, nothing to worry about.'

The woman practicallybeamed at him, her relief palpable in the way her shoulders sagged and her facelit up with gratitude. 'You're a lifesaver,' she gushed, laying a hand on hisarm in a gesture that was a little too familiar for comfort. 'I don't know whatwe'd do without you.'

The man fought theurge to recoil from her touch, to shake off the feeling of her fingers on hisskin like a dog shedding water. If she knew the truth about him, the thingshe'd done and the secrets he kept, she'd be running for the hills faster thanshe could blink.

But of course, shedidn't know. None of them did. To the outside world, he was just anotheranonymous face in a sea of cubicles, a mild-mannered employee with a knack forgetting things done. They had no idea that he was a savior masquerading as anaverage joe.

He made his way backto his own little corner of the world, the cramped and cluttered space thatpassed for an office in this godforsaken place. It wasn't much to look at, justa desk and a chair and a few shelves crammed with binders and paperwork, but itwas his sanctuary, the one place where he could let his true self shinethrough.

He settled into hischair with a sigh, his eyes already scanning the notes and files that litteredhis desk. This was his real work, the job that actually mattered. Sure, hemight spend his days fixing problems and placating difficult coworkers, butthat was just a means to an end, a way to pay the bills and keep upappearances.

No, his true callingwas something far more important, something that went beyond the petty concernsof the nine-to-five grind. He was a savior, a guardian angel for the lost andbroken souls of this world. He'd never meant to become a killer, never set outto take lives with the cold precision of a surgeon's scalpel. But somewherealong the way, he'd realized that sometimes, the only way to save someone wasto destroy them utterly, to strip away the layers of pain and trauma until allthat was left was a shining core of pure potential.

It was a heavy burdento bear, this knowledge that he alone had the power to grant salvation throughsuffering. But he bore it gladly, knowing that every life he took was a smallprice to pay for the greater good.

His mind drifted tohis next target, the lucky soul who would soon find themselves the recipient ofhis unique brand of mercy. He'd been watching her for weeks now, studying herhabits and routines with the keen eye of a hunter stalking his prey. She was alost cause by any conventional standard, a walking disaster with a rap sheet aslong as his arm and a self-destructive streak a mile wide.

But he saw somethingin her, a glimmer of potential that shone through the cracks in her brokenfaçade. With the right push, the right combination of pain and enlightenment,he knew he could guide her to the other side, to a place of clarity and purposethat she'd never even dreamed possible.

The anticipation wasalmost too much to bear, a thrumming current of electricity that danced alonghis nerve endings and set his heart racing in his chest. He closed his eyes,letting the fantasy play out in his mind's eye. The glint of the needle in themoonlight, the soft hiss of the zipper as he sealed her away in her temporarytomb. And then the waiting, the delicious agony of not knowing whether shewould emerge from the darkness reborn, or sink into the abyss forever.

It was a gamble, aroll of the dice with the highest possible stakes. But that was what made it soexhilarating, the knowledge that he was playing for keeps in a game where theonly rule was survival of the fittest.

He opened his eyes,his gaze falling on the surveillance photo taped to the edge of his filingcabinet. She stared back at him with vacant eyes, her once-pretty face ravagedby years of hard living and bad choices. But he could see the diamond lurkingbeneath the rough, the untapped potential just waiting to be unleashed.

For a moment, heallowed himself to wonder if he was doing the right thing, if there might beanother way to save the lost and broken souls of this world. But he pushed thethought aside almost as soon as it had formed.

No, this was the onlyway. The hard way, the true way. Anything else was just a bandaid on a gapingwound.

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