Page 34 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“So what? This person just… kisses them and walks away, leaving them to die? Isn’t that sort of against the point?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, when you get roofied, it’s because someone wants you pliable. So they can do shit to you. But, what, none of them had anything physical done to them? Do you think maybe they’re an oversight? Ones that got away? Maybe he made themtoopliable? Didn’t mean to kill them.”

Kenny paused mid-stride, turning to face Aaron with a sharpness that made Aaron straighten in his seat. His shirt billowed as he stopped, his pacing creating a restless energy in the room. Aaron’s words hung heavy, forcing Kenny to reassess the killer’s motive and method.

“That’s a good point.” Kenny waggled a finger at him. “If we consider this killer’s actions as methodical—and they are—it’s unlikely these deaths were accidental. But…” He furrowed his brow as he scrutinised the pieces over in his mind. “If we entertain the possibility that they were testing the toxin—finding the right dose, or learning the limits of its application—then maybe these victims were part of the learning curve.”

“You saying these girls wereexperiments?”

Kenny nodded, the gravity of the thought pulling him deeper into his hypothesis. “The killer is refining their process. The victims weren’t necessarily ‘oversights’ as much as they were steps toward perfecting the kill. They wanted to ensure the toxin worked efficiently and without leaving physical evidence. The kiss is just a vehicle for delivery.”

Aaron scoffed, leaning back, his expression a mix of disbelief and disdain. “But why stop there? If it’s not about sex or control, what’s the point? Why go to all this trouble?”

Kenny turned inward for a moment, considering the killer’s apparent profile. “It’s about power.” He paced again. “Not the physical domination we’d associate with roofies or otherdrugs meant to incapacitate. This isintellectualpower.Emotionalcontrol. The act of poisoning through something as intimate as a kiss—it’s calculated. Blurring the line between connection and destruction. It’s not just about killing; it’s about the narrative. The killer leaves their mark in a way that’s invisible but unforgettable.”

“So… the killer’s not impulsive. They’re careful. Practiced. But what kind of person does that?”

Kenny stopped pacing, locking eyes with Aaron. “Someone who sees people as objects in their story. Someone detached, who craves validation not through lawlessness, but precision. They’d likely be someone who blends in. Charming, even. They need proximity to their victims, after all. But they’re also someone who sees intimacy as a weapon, not a connection.”

Aaron’s eyes narrowed. “So they’re not trying to get caught, but they want the power. The recognition. Just not openly.”

“Exactly.” Kenny snapped his fingers. “This isn’t someone who wants to be notorious, at least not yet. Their victims don’t even have the time to acknowledge the killer’s power. So they’re perfecting their craft. Each victim is a step toward their ultimate goal, whatever that might be. They’d be intelligent, detail-oriented, likely with a background in science or pharmacology to understand how to manipulate the toxin.”

“And the kiss? What does that say about them?”

Kenny hesitated, the psychology of the act gnawing at him. “The kiss is personal.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It’s symbolic. Suggests a yearning for intimacy but a complete inability to handle the vulnerability that comes with it. The killer isn’t just poisoning their victims. They’re corrupting an act associated with affection and intimacy, twisting it into something lethal. It’s a statement, not just an act. A way to control something they might have been denied.”

Aaron’s lips twitched, almost smirking. “Sounds like a virgin.”

Kenny’s stomach dropped at the suggestion, the chilling accuracy of Aaron’s instinct hitting him hard. “Highly likely. It could be someone who’s never experienced intimacy in the way they desired. Someone rejected, ridiculed, orshamedfor it. That kind of psychological scar can fester, turn into something… dangerous.”

Aaron exhaled, slow and long. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“What?”

“Thisisgreat foreplay. Watching your mind at work.”

“You sit in my lectures.”

“Yep. At the back so you can’t see my boner. Then I go back to my room and wank off.” Aaron reached for the photo of Connie Bishop, checking it over as Kenny scraped a hand through his hair, working it all out in his head. “So, do they get off on it? On kissing them before death? Being the last to do it?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Kenny said. “It’s about validation. A sense of superiority. They’re playing God. Deciding who lives and who dies, using something as innocent as a kiss to do it. Something most of us take for granted.”

“Speak for yourself. Maybe when the person you want actually gives them, yeah.”

Kenny narrowed his eyes at him. “It’s a warped sense of artistry, of perfection. To them, it’s likely beautiful.”

“But why? What makes someone like that? Don’t killers want toseetheir victims die? If the killer walks away, what are they getting from it?”

Kenny’s mind sprinted through all the cases he’d ever read, all the victims, all the behaviour analyses he’d studied about people who had lasting problems. “Maybe theydon’twalk away. Maybe they watch it play out. Both incidences happened among a crowd. They’re in the crowd. Reclaiming power through their actions, turning something they’ve been denied into a weapon.”

“Think you got this sussed, doc.”

“Not yet.” Kenny sighed. He should have been focusing onthis, and not on the beautiful distraction in his home. “This changes everything about how we approach the case. If the killer’s using kisses, we need to identify a pattern. Someone who knew the victims well enough to get that close but stayed under the radar.” He picked up his laptop from the floor, hoping to God it hadn’t been damaged in the fall. “I need to write this report.”

“So…I’ll just wait?”

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