Page 75 of Girl, Undone
A solid folder.
Ella yanked it out, ran her fingers over the black surface.She tried to open it but found it padlocked shut.
In the detective’s world, a lock was always a cause for concern.
Locks only guarded things worth hiding.
A surge of determination coursed through her veins.
With no regard for subtlety or preservation, Ella gripped the folder in one hand and the lock in the other, and she tore the folder open.
A stack of papers fell from within.
Ella caught sight of the first page - just a few words centered on an expanse of white.
And it felt as if a cold hand had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart with an iron grip.
Ella turned through the first few pages, and despite her desperate need to find Maxwell Tanner tonight, couldn’t pull her eyes away.
It was all here.
Every little detail had been documented.
These hadn’t just been homicides.
They’d been experiments.
Every victim, every approach, and every killing method – all laid bare right in black and white.
Now, Ella understood why there’d been marks in the dust at Julia Dawson’s crime scene.Now the presence of the camera that captured her whole ordeal made sense.This was why there were no elements of sadism, no overkill, no sexual assault.
The killer had watched, scrutinized, and documented every last detail of all of his murders.
Maxwell Tanner was no ordinary psychopath driven by bloodlust.He was a researcher of the macabre, and judging by these notes, he was an author penning a textbook of terror that cataloged the anatomy of fear itself.The notes detailed observations weren’t merely the ramblings of a madman but the cold research of a scientist dissecting the human psyche.
Ella’s stomach twisted into knots as she skimmed the details of the fifty-or-so-page manuscript that lay in front of her.
I laced Julia Dawson's drink with a mild dose of Gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, calculated not to kill but to weaken, ensuring her compliance without immediate alarm.Capture followed during Julia’s journey home, where I transported her to an abandoned cabin I’d selected for its isolation.This setting was crucial, a controlled environment where variables could be minimized, and observations could be conducted without interruption.
The experiment required a direct interaction with primal fears, a test of human response to extreme psychological torment.Preparation involved binding Julia, ensuring mobility was restricted but consciousness maintained.It was essential she experienced every sensation and every psychological twist of the forthcoming ordeal.To incite the rats' natural feeding behavior, small incisions were made on Julia's abdomen.These were not random but strategically placed, enough to draw blood and provoke interest without immediate fatality.
Ella held back the forthcoming bile, trying to keep her composure and not slam her fist through Maxwell’s desk.She skipped ahead on the hunt for something that might suggest Maxwell Tanner’s current whereabouts.
The burial was deep, a mere six feet below the surface, enough to muffle cries yet shallow enough to instill a false hope of escape.Before sealing the coffin, I whispered to Thomas that a phone lay outside the coffin, buried under a thin layer of dirt, a cruel addition to the experiment.It was a lie, of course, designed to add psychological torment to his physical entrapment.
Another section said:
The study of human behavior under the threat of immolation presented a unique opportunity to observe the instinctual fight-or-flight response.Rebecca Morgan, selected for her phobic fear of fire, was lured to a remote cabin under the pretense of a therapeutic session designed to confront her anxieties.The cabin was prepared in advance, doused in gasoline with trails leading to a safe distance, allowing for ignition without immediate danger to myself.Upon her arrival, Rebecca's trust was visibly palpable.The escalation of the fire triggered an immediate and visceral response from Rebecca, and the intensity of Rebecca's screams, coupled with the fear that they might attract unwanted attention, compelled me to abandon the observation prematurely.
Maxwell Tanner studied his victims so he could turn their final moments into case studies for a dissertation written in blood.
The shrill ring of her phone alerted her.Ella glanced and saw Ripley’s name flashing up.
‘Talk to me,’ Ella answered.
‘Dark, I’m at Tanner’s house.It’s empty.No car on the driveway.Neighbors haven’t seen him.’
‘Damn it to hell,’ Ella cried.
