Page 132 of Undone

I nodded. For a moment, silence hung between us.

“Just be careful,” he said, his tone dropping to a whisper. “I know you’re strong, but John… he’s not the person you knew anymore. I’ll be here when you get out.”

“Okay,” I replied, the words barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat as I prepared to confront the past and find my way toward a new future.

After going through a security checkpoint, I stepped into the visitation room, and a chill ran down my spine. The starkness of the surroundings, cold metal, harsh lighting, and the oppressive silence heightened my anxiety.

John sat behind the glass, his posture relaxed yet predatory, a sickly smile creeping across his face as he watched me approach. I felt my stomach twist at the sight of him—he looked almost too comfortable here, as if he belonged.

As if he didn’t kill those women or put Gracie in danger. As if he didn’t shoot multiple security guards, Ellie, and Dorian. The second our eyes locked, his lips curled into a smug grin, and my stomach churned.

“Hello, Noah,” he said, dripping with false charm. I picked up the phone, forcing myself to speak.

“Cut the shit, John. I’m not here for pleasantries.”

He chuckled, a low, mocking sound. “Feisty. What’s the matter? You look a little shaken.”

“Enough,” I snapped. “You’ve hurt too many people. I’m here to understand why.”

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with a predatory glint. “You want to know why? I thought you were smart. At least everything is going according to plan.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, confusion swirling in my mind. He chuckled, a sound that made my skin crawl.

“Well, guess there’s no time like the present, so I’ll get right to it.” He chuckled. “You know how your dad had that—what was it—that shitty ex-wife? He was always complaining about her, wishing she’d get what she deserved in the divorce because she ended up taking him for half of what he was worth.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air, and I could feel a sickening sense of dread creeping in.

“What does that have to do with any of this?” I pressed. He leaned in closer, a gleam of something dark in his eyes.

“It’s a long story, Noah. I’ve been waiting to tell you, so shut up and listen.” He paused, waiting for my response, but I said nothing. “I thought I’d do him a favor. I was young, still in college, and we”—he gestured to me—“weren’t talking at the time. He wouldn’t stop complaining about her, so I went over to her house to scare her a little. Just give her a piece of my mind, convince her to give back all the shit she got in the divorce… But things… escalated quickly.”

My heart raced as I braced myself for what was coming. “What did you do?”

John’s face twisted into a grimace of nostalgia. “She wouldn’t listen to logic. She wouldn’t understand how wrong she was. So, she may have accidentally fallen down the stairs.” He smiled as if recalling a fond memory, and I felt bile rise in my throat.

“John…” I whispered. His name felt foreign, disgusting even, on my tongue.

For a moment, I caught a glimpse of something raw beneath his facade. “In my shock, I realized... hmm. I liked it,” he admitted, a strange satisfaction creeping into his tone. “Seeing her dead made me happy. It reminded me of my mother. They were both so similar—both nurses, both in roles meant to care for others, yet unable to care for their own families.”

I shook my head, disbelief washing over me.

“Well, wouldn’t you know it. That was exactly ten years ago… just a few weeks ago, I’d gone to your dad, not knowing what to do. Rick told me what to do. I told him I didn’t mean to kill her… even if I liked it, but he didn’t need to know that. He didn’t go to the police because, in the end, her being dead benefited him. He didn’t want to be under a microscope being the bitter ex-husband, either. But then I kept thinking about it—about how I wanted to see someone else like them dead.”

His gaze sharpened, and I knew he was savoring this moment. He held onto this, waiting for someone to listen. And as much as I didn’t want to give him that, I needed to know. I needed to know how this all tied to me.

“He didn’t see me as a threat, and I let him think that, but I needed to kill more. I needed to see them dead.”

I felt the blood drain from my face as his words sank in. “That is insane.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He paused then continued his story. “So, then I became this—what do they call me?” He turned to the guard behind them, as if he would answer. “Oh yeah, the Marketplace Murderer.” He let out a sinister chuckle. “It’s easy to find them there, you know. They’re always trying to sell their expensive shit online to make a dime. It was easy to lure them in.” He looked up at the ceiling, pressing his hands together in a praying motion that made me sick.

“Thank the lord for social media. I found someone, watched them closely, and if they weren’t taking care of their own family, I knew they were the one. They’d be so focused on pretending to care for others, but couldn’t even give a damn about the people closest to them. I’d get them to meet with me, thinking they were getting off on selling some overpriced piece of shit, and then… well, you know the rest. I did that. Whenever you wouldn’t go with me at least. Whenever you were there, I didn’t need to. You kept me sane. For years, learning how to cover my tracks, making sure I was always strategic about where and how I did it.

“Then last year, my mother comes to me after years of pretending I didn’t exist, and suddenly decides she needs my help. She’s lost her job, her status, and all she can think to do is come crawling back, asking me to find her another rich husband,” he said, a scoff escaping his mouth. His tone shifted, mocking her. “I need you, John. I need your help finding someone for me,she told me. After years of silence, she just expected me to fix everything for her. That’s where it all went wrong.” I stared at him, my heart racing as the pieces fell into place.

“What did you do?”

“I had to kill her, obviously,” he said, his tone unnervingly casual, as if confessing to nothing more than an overdue chore. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way, though. I wasn’t on my game. She surprised me, so it got messy. Sloppy, really. I forgot how damn organized she always was with her calendar, and my name was right there. Can you believe that? She had it right there in her schedule, bold as day. And me? I wasn’t ready. No time to prepare. But you”—his gaze sharpened, the edge of frustration creeping in—“you had to ruin everything.

“I planned it all to happen in Woodstone, down to the last second. The countdown, the ten-year mark of my first kill—midnight. Not to kill you, but to make you suffer. It would’ve been poetic. But no, you had to run off to that stupid pop concert. Do you know how inconvenient that was? Do you have any idea what it’s like to improvise in a stadium? Sneaking in a weapon isn’t even the hard part—fake a maintenance uniform a week in advance, flash a badge, and you’re golden. But still, it wasn’t what I wanted. You threw a wrench into my plans, Noah. And now here we are.”

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