The broadcast cuts to a sleekly dressed blond woman sitting behind a desk, her smile bright despite the grisly facts she details.
“Brenden Cooper’s body was spotted Saturday morning hanging from the I-30 overpass. He was found fully nude with a large broken heart carved into the center of his chest, a known calling card of the famous serial killer, Red 7. The bodies of Josh Seraph, 26, and Scott Trimble, 28, were also discovered at the scene, hanging in a similar manner to Cooper. Seraph and Trimble were identified Saturday evening at Moriton Memorial by their respective families. ”
She pauses for a beat. “The police are looking for information about the night, asking anyone who saw or heard something to come forward. For more on the story, go to…”
I stop paying attention at that point, turning my eyes to the watered-down drink in my hand. I take it back in a single gulp, which catches Saffron’s eye.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just some story on the news. Freaked me out a bit.”
“Which one?” She turns her golden eyes to the screen I was watching, listening to the recap with a stony expression. “Huh. Brenden Cooper’s dead.”
“Seems that way.”
She shrugs. “I’d buy whoever did it a round.”
My throat is unusually dry as I go to respond. “They say Red 7 did it.”
“Well, good. Brenden deserved it. You know Angie? A couple of weeks back, the fucker and his weirdo friends got her into their car—tried to carve her up.”
My mind flashes with an image of Saffron’s friend. The last time I saw her, she had a thick, blood-soaked bandage wrapped around her arm. “Thoseare the guyswho did that? Fuck.”
“I know.” Saffron shakes her head, her mouth pinched. “It’s all so messed up. Everyone thought he was a perfect angel just because he was one of the mayor’s sons.” She shakes her head in disgust. “I’m glad he’s gone.”
“Me too. I hope the worms are feasting.”For more than one reason.
A somber air hangs over us as we go back to eating, this time in silence. I’m sure Saffron is busy thinking about her poor friend, but I can’t take my mind off Brenden’s murder. Specifically, hismurderer.
I keep thinking about what he whispered in my ear the night he saved me. How my pulse raced as he promised he was going to do bad things to me. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, exactly, but I’m betting the enormous amount of stress I’m under is breaking my brain. That’s the only reason I would be fondly remembering a masked killer.Right?
“You sure you don’t want me to spend the night?”
Saffron stands in the doorway of my apartment, a bag of leftovers dangling from her right hand and her brow pinched in worry.
“I’ll be okay.” I reach forward to wrap my arms around her. “Thank you for tonight. It helped get my mind off things.”For a while, at least…
“You’ll call me if you need anything?”
“I promise.” I pull back, giving her what I hope is a bright smile. “You’ll be okay driving home?”
She laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of my head. “Always. I’ll even use my blinkers.”
“Please do that regularly.” I fix her with a serious stare. “I’m kind of alarmed to hear you don’t.”
“Well, I gotta run!” Saffron turns on her heel, blowing me a kiss over her shoulder as she hurries down the hallway. “Remember—call me!”
I chuckle under my breath as I close the door, making sure to lock it tightly. Turning around, I press my back to the door, letting out a deep breath as a heavy silence falls over the apartment. Without Saffron, the place seems emptier than normal. Creepier..
“Maybe I should get a cat or something,” I murmur, rubbing my arms as I head into my bedroom.
I take a quick shower to wash off the cigarette smog clinging to my hair and skin, then fix myself a cup of my favorite sleepytime herbal tea. The taste soothes my frazzled nerves, and within minutes, my lids droop.
Huh. I don’t remember it having this much of an effect before…
I shrug, downing the last of the tea and hopping into bed, snuggling deep under the covers as it becomes increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open. I fall asleep in record time,blissfully unaware of what was in my tea—and the monster peering through the slits in my closet door.
CHAPTER SIX
