him just in case she tried to start squirming again, “I do know how, I do!” He ground furiously, captive to his memories until his release was final.
Holding her tightly while the last few spasms shook him, he swept aside her hair with his right hand and pressed his mouth to her neck just below the ear barely taking note of the blood that covered the blade.
Once his breathing settled, and his spent member slid from her body, he became aware of the wetness dripping on his left arm and looked over her shoulder. His gaze drawn to the gaping slash through her neck, down to the vertebrae, “Whooh,” he chuckled softly, “got a little carried away there huh?” he asked glancing at her sightless eyes, then chewed his lip.
“I should remember doing that.” A moment later he shrugged, “Meh,” then released her torso and slid off bending down to wipe his blood covered forearm in the grass before pulling the jumpsuit back up. “Almost done here, almost done.” He assured himself feeling more focused than he had just a few minutes ago.
With the return of his clarity, Randy knew he had to move quickly. His senses were back and he couldn’t shake the feeling that time was passing much too quickly.
The trek over the hill from where he’d parked and killed Diane hadn’t taken but a couple minutes, the problem was that when the memories took control he could lose track of time, so he had no idea just how long there was until the lunchtime fitness fanatics made their way down the path.
He worked quickly, crouched on the far side of the shrubs adjusting her skirt, her knees, and her hands just so, making sure the left one was flung out just enough through the underbrush to be seen relatively soon.
The message would be clear to those it was meant for, and just in case it wasn’t, he had a back up plan.
Hiking quickly up the hill, he fingered the edge of the latex glove, rolling it over his hand so it was inside out as he took it off, then did likewise with the other one binding the bodily fluids inside the layers.
Back inside the van he tossed the ball of rubber into a plastic grocery bag, his eyes falling on the manila envelope from the safe. He had no desire to open it, to see what it contained. It was in his possession and that’s all that mattered. The last possible piece of evidence that could pin Dave’s death on him was now in his hands and soon to be in the shredder. His chin dropped to his chest and he breathed relief before pulling out into traffic, heading for the Terrace Apartments, where Sam lived.
--
“Maintenance…” he called, knocking on her pristine white door, a fresh pair of gloves on his hands.
A glance up and down the hallway had him quickly tapping the lock to slip into the apartment.
With the door closed behind him, he stood taking in the sparse, but quality décor. Not very cluttered, well organized. Nice. He noticed, vaguely impressed for some reason.
Across the hall from the door, toward the left, was the living room, again with sparse furnishings, a couch, coffee table, desk, and a small cabinet for her TV and media. A textured crystal vase with twin shafts of silk orchids caught his eye. He stood before them peering down into the vase then reached into the zippered chest pocket of his jumpsuit.
He smiled at the three pale nubs in his palm then found the perfect place for one of them, at the base of one of the flowers near the top of the vase. He peeled away the backing from the dot of adhesive on the mic then stuck it firmly to the plastic and returned the other two to his pocket.
Smiling, he turned to the left and let his feet carry him into the bedroom.
It smelled like a woman’s bedroom, light clean fragrances mingled on the air. One by one he opened the dresser drawers in an effort to determine just how deeply she had the cop hooked. Wondering how quickly the man would be able to recover once she was stripped from his life.
Two drawers in the dresser for him, he
Holding her tightly while the last few spasms shook him, he swept aside her hair with his right hand and pressed his mouth to her neck just below the ear barely taking note of the blood that covered the blade.
Once his breathing settled, and his spent member slid from her body, he became aware of the wetness dripping on his left arm and looked over her shoulder. His gaze drawn to the gaping slash through her neck, down to the vertebrae, “Whooh,” he chuckled softly, “got a little carried away there huh?” he asked glancing at her sightless eyes, then chewed his lip.
“I should remember doing that.” A moment later he shrugged, “Meh,” then released her torso and slid off bending down to wipe his blood covered forearm in the grass before pulling the jumpsuit back up. “Almost done here, almost done.” He assured himself feeling more focused than he had just a few minutes ago.
With the return of his clarity, Randy knew he had to move quickly. His senses were back and he couldn’t shake the feeling that time was passing much too quickly.
The trek over the hill from where he’d parked and killed Diane hadn’t taken but a couple minutes, the problem was that when the memories took control he could lose track of time, so he had no idea just how long there was until the lunchtime fitness fanatics made their way down the path.
He worked quickly, crouched on the far side of the shrubs adjusting her skirt, her knees, and her hands just so, making sure the left one was flung out just enough through the underbrush to be seen relatively soon.
The message would be clear to those it was meant for, and just in case it wasn’t, he had a back up plan.
Hiking quickly up the hill, he fingered the edge of the latex glove, rolling it over his hand so it was inside out as he took it off, then did likewise with the other one binding the bodily fluids inside the layers.
Back inside the van he tossed the ball of rubber into a plastic grocery bag, his eyes falling on the manila envelope from the safe. He had no desire to open it, to see what it contained. It was in his possession and that’s all that mattered. The last possible piece of evidence that could pin Dave’s death on him was now in his hands and soon to be in the shredder. His chin dropped to his chest and he breathed relief before pulling out into traffic, heading for the Terrace Apartments, where Sam lived.
--
“Maintenance…” he called, knocking on her pristine white door, a fresh pair of gloves on his hands.
A glance up and down the hallway had him quickly tapping the lock to slip into the apartment.
With the door closed behind him, he stood taking in the sparse, but quality décor. Not very cluttered, well organized. Nice. He noticed, vaguely impressed for some reason.
Across the hall from the door, toward the left, was the living room, again with sparse furnishings, a couch, coffee table, desk, and a small cabinet for her TV and media. A textured crystal vase with twin shafts of silk orchids caught his eye. He stood before them peering down into the vase then reached into the zippered chest pocket of his jumpsuit.
He smiled at the three pale nubs in his palm then found the perfect place for one of them, at the base of one of the flowers near the top of the vase. He peeled away the backing from the dot of adhesive on the mic then stuck it firmly to the plastic and returned the other two to his pocket.
Smiling, he turned to the left and let his feet carry him into the bedroom.
It smelled like a woman’s bedroom, light clean fragrances mingled on the air. One by one he opened the dresser drawers in an effort to determine just how deeply she had the cop hooked. Wondering how quickly the man would be able to recover once she was stripped from his life.
Two drawers in the dresser for him, he
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