Page 67 of Ruthless Riches
Sascha’s smile finally faded, and she nodded. “I was worried when that happened. I thought it was over for me before I even got started. But it turned out fine in the end. Claire played along like I told her to.”
The tears started flowing hot and fast again. I felt like I was going to throw up. “Why?” I choked out. “Were you holding a knife to her neck?”
“Her back.” Sascha’s lips tipped downward. “It was scary, but at the same time it was surprisingly easy. I knew no one would miss her for a while because of what you told me about her family being assholes. So I tied her up, took her down to my car, and put her in the trunk. On the way home, I picked up the other girl.”
“Nessa?”
She nodded. “She was stuck out in the rain and didn’t seem to have anywhere to go when I asked her where she was headed,” she said. “I offered her a ride to a shelter. She didn’t even hesitate to get in.”
“Of course she didn’t,” I muttered.
Women always trusted other women when it came to stuff like that. If I were ever stuck out in the rain and a man offered me a ride, I’d say no right away. There were just too many horror stories in the world about men picking up hitchhikers and murdering them. But women? Not so much. Hardly anyone would look at someone like Sascha and think ‘she might be a monster’.
Because of that, Nessa would’ve felt perfectly safe when she got in the car that night. She probably only realized something was wrong when she saw that they were heading in the wrong direction. She might’ve tried to open the door and jump out at some point, but Sascha would’ve planned for that and kept the doors locked.
Nessa never stood a chance.
“Did you bring the girls here after that?” I asked in a hollow voice.
“Yes. These tunnels are the perfect hiding place. At least they were,” Sascha said, voice dripping with scorn. “Not so much now that everyone’s about to find them.”
“How did you find them?”
She smiled again. “Do you remember when I went out on a date with that guy a few months ago, and we were meant to go hiking? But then it rained so we went to check out the tunnels instead.”
“Vaguely.”
“My date told me about the rumors of a second level of tunnels. He thought it was just a bullshit legend, but I was curious because I love urban exploration. It gives me ideas for new projects. Anyway, I mentioned it to Brian the next time I saw him outside the art studio, because I know a lot of homeless people use the tunnels to sleep in, so I thought he might know about the second level. He led me to some guy who told me a story about Central Park. Then I got lucky when I went out looking for the hatch. Found this place almost right away.” Sascha waved a hand around us. “After that, I spent a few weeks exploring down here every chance I got. That was before I had the copycat Butcher idea, obviously. It was a lucky coincidence, though—that I just so happened to have this perfect hiding spot. It was like fate, really.”
A strange feeling had settled in my ribs, slowly gnawing at me from the inside. Then I realized what it was. Beyond the absurd motive, something about Sascha’s story made no sense. The timeline was totally off.
“You said you wanted to kill people to make everyone think the Butcher was back,” I said slowly, wiping my cheeks. “So you could win over Mom’s side of the family by making Dad look innocent.”
“That’s right.”
“But that side of the family all turned out to be part of the Golden Circle. They were the reason Dad died,” I said. "You must’ve hated them after you found out, right?”
“Yes.” She wrinkled her nose. “Fuck them.”
I frowned and leaned forward. “So why did you kill two more people after that?” I asked. “The ones you dumped in the quad before you attacked me in that bathroom.”
Sascha fell silent for a long time. “I can’t tell you that part,” she finally muttered, twisting her fingers together. “It’s a secret.”
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous,” I snapped. “Tell me!”
“I can’t. You’ll judge me.” Her voice had turned petulant and whiny. She sounded like a fucking child.
I threw my hands up. “I think we’re past the point of judgment, Sascha,” I spat out. “I’m not going anywhere, either, so you might as well just tell me.”
She let out a sigh. “Fine. But don’t get mad.”
“I think we’re past that point too,” I said bitterly, narrowing my gaze on her. “Just fucking tell me.”
“Okay. The truth is…” She paused to draw a deep breath. Then she leaned closer as a slow smile curved up her lips. Her eyes were glittering with what appeared to be amusement. “I really liked it.”
Cold horror stabbed at my core. “You liked killing people?”
“Yes. I kept Claire and Nessa down here for nearly a month because I was so scared to actually do it. I knew it would be messy, and I was worried I’d fuck it up and no one would believe the Butcher was back, even for a second. But when I finally did it…” She trailed off again and closed her eyes. “It was a rush I’ve never felt before. An incredible rush. It was like making art. It takes precision, discipline, and risk, but it’s all worth it in the end.”
