Page 34 of Judge's Mercy

I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the ball that formed there. “They are.”

“Anyway, I watched him for a couple days and learned his routine. Then, I pounced. Bones prescribed me some heavy sleeping pills after?—”

“Go on.” I don’t make her say it. What she’s admitting to is difficult enough without bringing that into it.

“I pulverized them into a powder and snuck into his house before he came home from work. He didn’t even have a camera alert system; that’s how confident this guy was that nothing bad could happen to him. Meanwhile, women are never safe, not ever, and the second we let our guard down, bad things happen.” She sneers.

“Unfortunately, that’s a truth I had to witness first with Tinleigh and then you.”

She takes a second to regain her control, her still-bouncing knee making the table vibrate. “He has a chef come in once a week and make meals for him, so all he has to do is heat them up. It was easy to mix the pills into his mashed potatoes. Then I waited outside his window until I was certain enough time had passed for the pills to work, and I walked right through the unlocked front door. I found him in his office, his pants open and his limp dick out. He fell asleep in his chair before he could get himself off to what was playing on his computer.” A fat tear rolls down her ruddy cheek.

“I wish you hadn’t seen that.” I yearn to pull her into my lap so I can hold her, offer her my comfort, but that’s what I need, not her. She needs a man to not violate her boundaries.

“Me too.”

“What then?”

“I tied his ankles and wrists to the chair. Don’t worry. I used the most popular zip ties on the market and paid cash for them. I had on gloves, and my hair was covered by a hat, so there’s no chance my DNA was left behind.”

“There’s little chance your DNA was left behind,” I correct because there’s no way to know for sure. “And you’re in the system because the County required it to work at the ranch.”

“I know, but I was really careful.”

“I can tell.”

“Anyway, I waited for him to wake up, and when he did, my nerves got the best of me. I almost ran out of there without doing anything else.”

“What changed your mind?”

“He did. You should’ve heard the things he spewed at me, calling me names, telling me all the awful things he was going to do to me when he got free.” Her posture straightens, and her knee stills. When her eyes meet mine, I see a hint of the killer in her, and from what she’s told me, I don’t know how I can blame her. “I carved off his flaccid dick and chucked it at him. It landed on his forehead before slowly sliding down his face as he screamed and retched.”

I look away, trying not to throw up myself. This isn’t the kind of thing a normal, mentally stable person can do. Everyone thinks that when push comes to shove, they could kill if they had to, but the truth is that human instincts have weakened over the years, and even when it’s your life or theirs, it wouldn’t be an easy thing to do. Shooting someone? Maybe. But carving away at flesh? No, not many could go through with it.

“Then what?” I ask.

“I straddled him and stabbed him over and over and over. I don’t know how many times, but as it turns out, it takes a lot of force to go deep enough to kill, so it took me a while. Eventually, I went for his throat and must have severed an artery.” She zones out, staring at nothing. “I’ve never seen so much blood. I thought I’d feel better, and I guess I kind of did, but I was also pissed he died so easily. I wish he’d suffered more.”

“I guarantee his soul will suffer for all eternity.”

“It’s not good enough.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I was covered in blood. I don’t know why I didn’t think about that. . . but I was wearing black and had left my helmet and leather coat with my bike, so it covered me up enough that no one saw anything when I rode home. Plus, it was late and dark outside.”

“What about shoe prints?” I ask, thinking of all the ways she might’ve messed up without even knowing.

“Cheap pair from a big box store. They’ve been selling the exact style for years, and there are literally millions of them floating around. I’m a size seven, but I bought a size nine and stuffed the toes with toilet paper.”

“That’s good.” It’s weird to feel proud that she really thought this through, but I am.

“I was disgusted when I got home. Having his blood on me felt like I was wearing his sin. I scrubbed at myself for an hour with a soap I saw at the clubhouse. No one told me it was to clean blood off hands or anything. I just figured if it got grease from fixing bikes off hands, then blood should be easy.” The corners of her lips tip up ever so slightly. “But I’m not stupid. I know what the club has to do sometimes.”

It’s not my place to confirm or deny, so I remain stoic. “What will you do with the clothes?”

“Hydrogen peroxide, a bar of soap, enzyme liquid detergent, and dish soap.”

“Shoes?”

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