“You’re a little too old for his liking. Frank preferred his partners sixteen, innocent, and unwilling.”
Her mouth parts in shock again. She’s going to have to stop doingthat before I lose my self control.
“You’re saying Frank was a…a pedophile?” She whispers the last word like just saying it will land her in jail.
She’s awfully cautious considering she’s not the one who committed murder a couple hours ago.
“As depraved as they come,” I confirm for her worried mind. “Although, I guess not anymore since he’s dead and I–oh shit. I forgot his heart upstairs.”
Those beautiful eyes shoot wide open at the mention of my negligence. How could I be so careless? What’s the point in all this if I can’t get the heart home? I guess the point is that I took another evil person off the street, but still. My shelf will have a bare spot with no decoration. Everyone knows the rule of thirds when it comes to art. I need that heart or it just won’t look right.
“His heart?” The woman asks timidly, reality washing over her as all the dots start to connect. “Are you–are you the Serial Killer Santa?”
Chapter Four
Noelle
Who is this guy? Now that he’s moved around my apartment into a different light I can see him clearer. I already knew he was tall with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Now I can see his glasses and facial hair that’s the same length as the hair on his head: short and cut close to the skin. It shows off the tattoo he has running down the side of his neck. Since he’s wearing black to cover every other inch of his body, I can’t tell if he has any other tattoos. Surely if he has a neck tattoo he probably has more somewhere on his–
Wait. I should not be thinking about where else he has tattoos. He just admitted he killed someone. This dry spell must be getting to me.Focus, Noelle. Don’t let your vagina think for you.
I don’t need confirmation to know who this guy is. He practically admitted it when he said he left the heart upstairs.
The Serial Killer Santa has been claiming three victims every Christmas for the last five years. The method of killing always varies based on the situation, but his calling card is the removal of the victim’s heart. But no one knows why or how he chooses his victims. The cops have found little clues about his identity over the years, but it’shard to track someone who only kills one month out of the year and then goes dormant for the other eleven months. Christmas in Detroit has been rather bleak since he started killing. No one looks forward to this time of year when they know it means three more people are going to die.
And now that very serial killer is standing in my living room.
I’ve been obsessed with this guy for five years. Five freaking years of watching the news every December, analyzing his victims, and bouncing ideas off other true crime enthusiasts in the forums. I’ve been determined to learn who he is for some time now. Not because I want the bragging rights of uncovering his identity.
No. I want to thank him for killing my ex-boyfriend.
Chapter Five
Noelle
Five years ago, the Serial Killer Santa took his first victim’s life.
He killed my ex-boyfriend Steven.
And Steven was a real piece of work. I still have the bad dexterity to prove it from when he broke my wrist. The thing about Steven was that he was an abused child, so he thought the only way to keep someone he “loved” was to abuse them as well. But his trauma was not a valid excuse for his behavior. Work that shit out in therapy, not on me.
He also didn’t take no for an answer. Even two months after I officially ended things with him and got a restraining order, he’d still track me down and beg me to be with him again. He used all the classic manipulation tactics: love bombing me, telling me he’d kill himself if he couldn’t have me, and my personal favorite, violence and threats.
Then one day, he just disappeared. I wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d finally gotten the message and adhered to the restraining order he never bothered to acknowledge before. I knew something must have happened to him.
And something did. The Serial Killer Santa. Although, at the time, he wasn’t known by that name yet. You aren’t considered a serial killer until your third murder. At least according to the FBI. Some authoritieslabel you as a serial killer after two separate murders.
But that’s beside the point.
The point is, the man who killed Steven, the Serial Killer Santa, is in my apartment.
And after murdering his third victim for the year, no less.
What are the odds.
Ok. Play it cool, Noelle. You don’t want to spook him.
I’m not worried he’ll kill me next, because then he’d be breaking a pattern upheld for the past five years.
