Page 48 of So Bleak

She supposed she should take Millie’s word with a grain of salt. She was his wife. It was possible that she was painting her husband in the best light possible, possible that she even saw him that way truly. But what was lovable arrogance to some could be insufferable arrogance to others.

She thought of the victims again, one by one. A food blogger. A food journalist. A food influencer. All food critics, none of them food professionals. Klein was the only one with any experience as a professional, but he had been accused of fraud. And he now ran a podcast where he treated fast food hamburgers as just as valid a cuisine as Michelin star winning dinners.

Maybe their killer was a food professional who was fed up with people he considered unqualified passing judgment on food.

Either way, she wouldn’t learn anything more from Millie. She stood and said, “Once again, I’m truly sorry for your loss. I promise you I’ll find the person responsible for this.”

That was the second time she had made this promise. This was the second time a grieving relative replied, “Doesn’t matter to me. It won’t bring him back.”

Faith lowered her eyes and stood silently for a moment before turning and heading slowly back into the restaurant.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The killer was only five years older than Gina Torres, but it wouldn’t appear that way if you looked at the two of them side by side. The killer was well put together, not perfectly attired, maybe, but professionally and appropriately.

Gina, on the other hand, was covered in tattoos and piercings, most of which were visible since she wore a pair of cutoff jean shorts that barely extended below her buttocks and a t-shirt that barely extended below her breasts. She wore fishnet stockings and sneakers, and her short hair was tied up in two pigtails that reminded the killer of a toddler’s hair.

The makeup was the worst. Why would anyone paint themselves in that way? It wasn’t attractive. It wasn’t sexy. It was garish.

But it was attention-grabbing. The killer decided that was probably the reason.

Well, the killer couldn’t say Gina would make a pretty corpse, but she would definitely make a corpse. Any second now. The poison had been working through her system for at least four hours now. The killer knew this because she had left her home four hours ago and had tossed the package into the trash on her way out. So she must have eaten it.

Four hours was more than enough time for the poison to work. The killer had increased the dose so it would work faster, since Gina wasn’t one to leave her house before the afternoon. She was the smallest of the victims so far as well, so it should have been extra potent.

So why wasn’t it working yet?

Gina held her camera above and slightly to the side, holding her other hand next to her face in a peace sign. That would give her viewers a nice shot down her shirt, which the killer thought was the only point of such a ridiculous shot. Not that anyone wanted to see that.

Why wasn’t she dead yet?

She put her camera away and walked to her car. The killer followed from a distance, careful to appear uninterested and nonchalant.

Gina made it to her car and began to drive. The killer’s eyes widened in alarm and rushed to the nondescript sedan parked nearby, jumping inside and following Gina from a comfortable distance. If Gina succumbed to the poison on the road, then she could crash and kill innocent people, and that was not something the killer wanted.

The killer followed Gina all the way back to her home in Cedar brook. Gina reached the cozy single-family home safely, hopped out of her car and bounced up the steps inside. Still alive.

What the hell had gone wrong?

The killer parked the sedan a few houses down and walked toward Gina’s house, glancing around to make sure no one was looking. The coast was clear, so the killer opened Gina’s trash can and lifted the package out of it.

It was still sealed. Gina hadn’t eaten the poison.

Rage filled the killer's mind. The killer should have known this. Gina's channel advocated for vegan and environmentally sustainable meals. Of course, she wouldn't have eaten the poison when delivered the way the killer had delivered it.

The killer tried to think, but it was hard through the rage. The killer couldn’t come back to deliver another package. It would be clear that something was amiss. The killer would have to either let Gina go and take someone else or poison her a different way.

The prudent thing would be to let her go, but the killer’s rage wouldn’t allow that. The killer had a plan, a good one, an intricate one that worked the best when done the way the killer wanted. Gina had ruined that.

The killer wouldn’t let her get away with that.

The killer walked up the steps to Gina’s house, looking around to make sure no one had seen. The syringe the killer pulled from the pocket of the light sweater the killer wore had a different poison. This poison wasn’t deadly, but it would allow the killer to take Gina somewhere the killer could administer the real poison.

The killer knocked on the door, heart pounding with rage and anticipation in equal measure. Gina answered with a bubbly smile. “Oh, it’s you again.”

The killer’s hands moved like a blur. One inserted the needle into Gina’s neck while the other covered her mouth. Gina’s eyes widened, then slowly lowered.

The killer slipped an arm under her shoulder and quickly walked her toward the sedan. A final check confirmed no one was watching. The killer placed her into the backseat of the sedan, then got into the driver’s seat and pulled away.

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