Page 17 of The Heart of Midnight

“They call me Muerte.” I flip her over, bending her over the side of the tub. “But I prefer Midnight. Stupid fucks in the media can’t do anything right, but what kind of smug prick gives themselves a moniker?”

“Please,” she whispers as I unzip my black jeans. “If you let me go, I’ll tell them. I’ll make them fix your name. I’ll do anything.”

As tempting as that is, I realize I don’t want anyone calling me Midnight but Avery. That’s something her and I share alone, not to be pissed all over by dipshit detectives and talking heads. No, that’s ours.

“Just shut up. Keep quiet and don’t scream and maybe you’ll live to do whatever the fuck you want when I’m gone.”

It’s a lie, but one I tell to keep them calm while I get what I want. The problem is that this time, I don’t think Iwillget what I want. Sara is bent over, ass exposed, fear dripping off her likehoney... and my fucking cock has gone soft. I stroke it quickly as I hold her down with my other hand, but it only stays hard for a couple of seconds and goes limp again. What the fuck?

Fine, so her fear isn’t enough this time. Reaching over, I turn the faucet on and turn the lever to plug the drain, making her jerk. “What are you doing? No!”

“Sorry Sara, but you’re not cutting it for me right now. Do you like to swim?”

She reaches back to claw at my clothes, which I can’t have. Police can do all sorts of things with fibers these days, so I grab both of her hands and pin them behind her back at an angle that has to be painful.

“Answer the fucking question.”

“Yes! Yes, I like to swim,” she rushes out. “My parents take me to the beach every year, they have since I was a kid. Their names are Jackson and Donna. My brother’s name is Greg and my sister’s name is Olivia.”

How cute, she’s trying to humanize herself. Like I could forget that I’m pinning down a living, breathing human being. Well... she won’t be either of those things in a few minutes, but still. “Hold your breath.”

Grabbing a fistful of hair, I shove her head underwater and exhale slowly as the bubbles caused by her scream upset the water. One of her ribs cracks from the pressure of her squirming and teeter tottering over the edge of the tub, and it’s that sound that finally gives me an ounce of satisfaction.

Fuck, that had to hurt. Pulling her back up, I give her a half a second to catch her breath, then shove her back down and make sure I’m putting weight on her cracked rib. There’s no blood, I wantblood,but her incessant struggle to get free is enough for now.

Right up until I see Avery’s face flood my mind, telling me that even the worst monsters can be good people. The wide-eyedinnocence and total belief on her face have me pausing. How could I ever be good when things like this bring me pleasure? How can I ever be worthy of redemption when I can do things like this without remorse?

She’s wrong. We’re not secretly good.

And now she’s ruined a perfectly good kill.

Snarling, I slam Sara’s head off the side of the tub until blood pools in the water, then hold her under until she finally stops twitching and fighting. It’s messy and didn’t bring me any peace at all, but it’s done, and I realize I don’t need to move her body or do anything at all. I’m covered from head to toe and couldn’t get hard enough to fuck her, so there’s nothing to clean. No evidence to remove.

Yeah, her husband can find her just like this.

Taking one last mental picture, I sneak out the way I came and make it back to my Pontiac. I take a different route back to the shop so if anyone noticed me coming, they won’t notice me going, and it takes me directly past Avery’s office.

Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dick are standing outside laughing at something one of them said, and it hits me that I’m not fucking done today. Sara might not have been enough, but these two? Yeah. These two will satisfy me and make sure Avery isn’t afraid anymore. If she thinks Muerte picked different targets at her work, she’ll relax about that. I have other ways to scare her if I need to.

But the question becomes how I get these two stupid fucks away from the building. I could just use a gun, but that isn’t Muerte’s style and I need the cops to link these to me. Fuck, this mask is suffocating. I can’t think clearly with it on, so I throw it on the passenger seat and let myself breathe for a moment. Making a move now is a mistake. It’s too light outside and they’re standing directly under a camera. While that’s one way to make sure the crimes are linked to Muerte, there’s too muchspace between my car and the building. They’d run. And if the cameras catch the Pontiac, my get-away car is burned.

No, this one needs patience. I’ll come back before they leave when the sun goes down and take them then, and maybe I’ll leave a little message behind so there’s no mistaking who’s responsible.

Either way, this is their last day on Earth. I hope they enjoy it.

Twelve

Avery

I’ve felt lost since Scar left the other night. Not knowing what’s bothering him is weighing on me, and I know there’s no way for me to help him unless I somehow get it out of him. The problem there is he’s like a brick wall when he wants to be.

Sometimes it feels like he’s five seconds away from opening up to me, and then he’s gone before he can give in. It’s insanely frustrating, distracting, saddening — I don’t know what I feel more, but I’m trying to watch one of my favorite shows and all I can think about is him. I don’t even care to eat this stupid food, but I know I need it to survive, so whatever.

Why am I so grumpy?

The episode ofBates MotelI’m watching cuts out, replaced by a “Breaking News” bulletin. Sitting up a little straighter, I set my dinner aside and gasp when I see a newscaster standing in my office parking lot.

“Saint City detectives have confirmed that the serial killer known as Muerte has claimed another three lives. John Vega, Angelo Taylor and Sara Marogy were found dead at two separate crime scenes between last night and the early hours of the morning. Sara Marogy was found in her home having been brutalized and drowned in her own bathtub, while John Vega and Angelo Taylor were both found with multiple stab wounds here in the Rines, Inc parking lot where they worked. None of the victims showed signs of sexual assault. Muerte has never been known to take male victims before, but detectives released video footage found on Mr. Taylor’s phone at the scene that confirms it was, in fact, the killer who has been terrorizing Saint City for almost a year now. They’re asking us to show thisfootage in case anyone out there might recognize the suspect’s voice or mannerisms, but I have to warn you... it is disturbing. If you have any information at all that could lead to the capture of this notorious killer, please contact the Saint City Police Department at the number on the bottom of your screen.”

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