Page 8 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

“Says you. I’ve got a ring light and a six-figure follower count that says otherwise.” He dramatically swipes on his phone.

The surveillance video glows across my laptop screen like a ghost I refuse to stop chasing.

Chills race along my back each time the monster’s face appears under the streetlamp.

Frame by frame.

Mariela outside Tony’s Bodega. Purse slipping off her shoulder. Her license, an envelope—little pieces of her life scattered across the sidewalk. She bends, flustered, trying to gather it all.

Then him.

Mr. Disgusto. Travis Gannon.

Hair perfect, hands tucked into his pockets like he’s starring in a cologne ad for creeps.

He stoops, picks up her ID and the envelope—doesn’t even pause as he slips them into his pocket like they belong to him.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter, swirling my wine. “Just casually stealing the address of the woman he’s about to traumatize. Nothing to see here, folks.”

He walks off—past her building, past the story he sold in court, straight to Chase’s place.

His buddy’s apartment is a revolving door of borrowed alibis.

That’s his routine. Circle. Strike. Slip away with clean hands and a Knicks jersey.

The next clip rolls.

Later now—darker. Another street cam catches him at the edge of the frame. Same cocky walk. Same coat.

He turns the corner toward her building.

I pause the video, rewind it and slow it down.

And right there, under the streetlamp, his face lifts.

Not nervous. Not unsure.

Just... set.

A man with a plan.

“You picked up her ID and her mail, you little doodie licker,” I mutter. “He knew her floor. Her unit number.” I take another sip, jaw tight.

Sebastian, still trimming video clips, doesn’t even glance up. “Someone should legally castrate him with a rusty eyebrow tweezer.”

“He knew exactly how to get to her.” My heart pounds—not with fear. With fury.

He planned it.

Plotted it.

Executed it.

And walked away like it was nothing.

I had him. This video? It was the missing link.

The nail. The coffin. The verdict tied in a bow.

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