Page 55 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats

I stand in the doorway, watching her for a moment before heading back into my office. With nothing to distract me, not that I’m complaining about my sexy distraction that is Lilah, I’m able to look into something that’s been bugging me.

Opening up my laptop, I tap on the browser and type inBoston Serial Killer.

I read the article—which was updated yesterday. There is no new information, nothing I don’t already know. That’s a good thing. If they aren’t reporting anything new, they likely don’t have anything new. Violet is still safe. But that won’t last for long, because in the last two weeks since I’ve learned about this, she’s killed three more people.

Authorities haven’t released anything about the writing on the mirrors, and I doubt they will. It won’t do anyone any good to know that information, and it’s leverage they can use to help find the real killer. I’m pretty sure she and I are the only people who would ever put that together. It’s nothing that leads right to her. It’s personal shit that she’s been carrying around.

I lean back in my chair, staring at the screen. All eleven men look just like Thomas. How many men are in the area that fit that description? There could be thousands, I guess. Never really thought about it.

All the recent kills are concentrated closer to home, meaning she’s in the area. So if I could figure out where she’s going next, I could stop her. I could cut her off and help her. Make her see reason. So how do I find men in this area?

I pull my phone from my pocket and go to the app store to look up dating apps. I find one that looks promising, not that I know anything about this, but it has a lot of users and a high rating. Plus, according to the description, you can put in the type of person you are looking for.

I make a new email then set up an account, only I don’t use my own information. I use Lilah’s. She won’t mind, and it’s not like the profile will stay for long anyway. I only need to look at people around me. At least if it’s her, it can be easily explained away.

The app is easy to navigate, and I go through the setup process. Once it’s complete, it shows me people who are supposed to match what I’ve marked as interested in. I swipe through profiles until I see a man who catches my eye.

He could work.

I close out of the app and search up his name on the internet.

His name pops up as a grocery store manager, and when I do some more digging, I find his address.

This memory of mine is convenient, because I don’t have to worry about writing anything down—no evidence for police to find; nothing to incriminate me. It’s all in my head.

I go back to the app and spend over an hour swiping through people, only to find one other guy who could work. But there’s something about the first one that’s holding my attention. He could be next. I can’t pinpoint what the difference is between the two men, I just feel that it’s him.

I close my laptop, grab my cell, and hurry upstairs to check on Lilah. She’s snoring, the damp facecloth pushed down over her eyes. My poor kitten…

Her cell is on the nightstand, so I plug it in and put it on vibrate. I grab my keys to head out, locking up the house before I go. Once I’m in the car, I send her a text to let her know I had to run out and to text me when she’s awake. I’ll come right back. I’ve never dealt with migraines and don’t know anyone who has had them, other than my mother. She would be down for days, lying in bed and throwing up. When she felt better, she would explain that it was just a bad headache and she’s much better but will probably be tired for a few days. I should have cared more than I did.

Lilah will be okay; she just needs to sleep. My mother said that helped. My house is safe, and it’s not like anyone would show up at the house anyway. Besides, I won’t betoofar. I just need to sit on this house for a while, watch this guy, and see if I find Violet sniffing around.

The house is easy to find, in a heavily populated residential neighborhood right on the outskirts of Boston. My car fits in with the others on the road, and so I park across the street.

I haven’t spoken to Violet in years. I have no idea what she’s been doing or what she’s like. I don’t know what she’s been through or how she’s been surviving. I know nothing about her,yet I still feel the connection. These killings are her, and I need to help her before she gets caught.

It’s been nearly three hours, and I’ve seen nothing so far. It’s been a quiet night and nearing two am. When I first pulled up, I was sure this would be a rowdy neighborhood, just based on the number of houses.

It’s almost three in the morning when I finally see movement. There’s someone walking quickly down the sidewalk, toward the house. It catches my attention, and though it’s dark and I can’t tell for sure, itcouldbe her. The figure is feminine, so I assume it’s a woman. I put my hand on the door handle, ready to jump out… when my phone starts buzzing.

Kitten.

I pick it up to answer, keeping my gaze on the woman who just disappeared along the side of the fence and into the backyard.

“Hey,” I say quickly. “How are you feeling?”

I shut the car off and open the door an inch.

“Head still hurts. Where are you?” She sounds sleepy, and maybe still in pain.

“Sitting on a house.”

“When are you coming home?” she whines.

“I can be home in an hour if I get off the phone right now.”

“K,” she breathes out. “Fuck me when you get home.”

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