You shrugged. “It’s just a theory,” you said. “Your turn.”
Silence stretched between us for a few moments, then I cleared my throat. “Why do you think it’s a serial killer?”
“They all go missing from the same area,” you explained. “No one has been found. All the women look similar?—”
Like you.
“And their jewelry was missing from their belongings. At least, the few women’s belongings that had been recovered.”
I didn’t know anything had been recovered, so thank you for that news, little doe. I’ll do a better job in the future.
“None of that sounds like a serial killer to me,” I said dismissively. “If no bodies have been found, how do you know they’re even dead?”
You shrugged. “Just a feeling I have.”
“A pretty morbid feeling, I’d say.”
It was your turn again, and you put your card down. More silence fell between us.
“You haven’t noticed anything weird?” you asked. “No one strange lurking around?”
“I don’t leave the office much,” I said.
“No one has checked in?—”
“The last people who checked in were an old married couple, and that was…” I stared up at the ceiling as I thought. “That was over a week ago.”
You nodded a few times. “If I show you the photos of the women, could you?—”
“I just said no women have checked in recently.”
“These aren’t recent missing persons.” You reached for your laptop. “They span over the last few years.”
I took a deep breath, one so deep it hurt my lungs. “Fine.”
You weren’t going to give up, I knew that, so I let you have this win. You turned your laptop around, showing me rows of women’s photos.
I recognized every single one of them.
I leaned forward, peering at each one, putting on a show for you. Slowly, I shook my head. “No,” I said softly. “I don’t recognize anyone.”
“Are you sure?” You turned the brightness on the laptop all the way up. “None of these women checked in here?”
I took my time scanning each face, remembering the way each of them felt, the noises they made when I pressed my knife into them for the first time. The way my body came alive as their blood oozed from the wounds.
“No,” I said again. “I’m sorry.”
Your shoulders drooped in defeat, and I had to hold my triumphant smile back. “Thank you for looking,” you said, sighing. “I just hate not knowing what happened to them.”
“Maybe they ran away.”
“Maybe.” You didn’t sound convinced, though. You stacked the cards into a neat pile and slid them back into their littlecardboard home. “You know, I’m really tired. I think I’m going to head back to my room.”
I knew you were lying. You weren’t tired.
But I couldn’t call you out on that lie—not yet. So I nodded as I stood and gestured for the door.
“Do you want me to walk you back?” I asked. “Apparently, there’s a serial killer on the loose.” I laughed, but you didn’t. You just shook your head, looking far too serious.
