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She had no choice or she, too, would die.
That was the way she felt then and she knew she had made the right decision in leaving.
Her soul, her spirit was evaporating. She was depressed, weak, and losing confidence in herself daily.
If she was to survive, be her own person, and succeed in life, she had no other choice but to leave her family and friends before it was too late.
Peter left the hotel room an hour later and Grace decided to indulge in a long, hot Jacuzzi bath. The hotel provided a wide range of bath oils and after-bath fragrances to enhance the experience.
Grace noticed the large ivory pillar candles scattered about the room. They were those cool battery-operated ones, so she turned the switches on each one.
Once the room was glowing with soft candlelight, the aroma of jasmine filled the air, and the last bit of hot water rose to the precise level in the tub, Grace turned off the faucets.
She finished putting the last couple of bobby pins in her hair to help keep it above her head then removed the thick, warm, complimentary hotel robe.
As she entered the water, she could feel her muscles relaxing then her eyes close as she leaned back, lost in the solitude of pleasure. But in the back of her mind, that uneasy, worrisome feeling ate at her gut.
Chapter 1
Cheryl Perez couldn’t stand the pain any longer. She knew this was it and that she was going to die. She didn’t want to die but he continued to touch her, cut her with some kind of long, sharp object. She couldn’t see what it was or his next move, which was driving her crazy. Just kill me already. Just stop the pain. She was shaking profusely as he continued to talk to her, repeating himself, saying sick, mean things to her. She wanted him to stop. She prayed for him to stop.
“Stop talking to me! Stop talking to me!” she screamed as she shook her head.
The tape laid flat against her eyes and they stung with every move she made. The sick bastard did it on purpose, he knew the pain it would cause and it gave him such deep satisfaction to do it.
He laughed at her and continued to terrorize her with his slow, deep, chill-inflicting voice.
* * * *
“You’re not as lovely as you appear to be in your pictures. You don’t even come close to her, but you’ve been close to her, you know her. You’ve spoken to her and for this I needed you,” he told Cheryl as he grabbed hold of her throat, laughing as his latest victim gasped for air.
“One breath, two breaths, dead.” He released her then took the picture and laid it on top of the lifeless body.
* * * *
Detective Jim Warner stood in the main office with Detective Masterson and FBI Agent Sully “Sandman” Sandstone. He was a good friend of Jim’s and he was doing him a favor by looking over these files. They had worked on a few cases over the years, including his cousin Gia’s abduction two years ago. He was good at his job and now it seemed as if they were being hit with a doozy of a case. Jim figured that the situation was getting worse and perhaps they did need some assistance from the government agents. Sandman was the best at what he did. He worked a lot of special cases and he usually worked alone or with his two brothers, Duke and Big Jay. At six feet four, San
dman made his presence known the moment he stepped into a room. He had a fierce look about him and an intense personality. His time as a Marine taught him well.
Jim stared at the piece of paper, a sick poem left at the latest crime scene. His stomach churned.
Heaven is crying tonight,
Filled with sadness and fright.
She cries for help, she yells, she pleads,
She is punished for both our deeds.
I take her now, do what I will
To hell with her, my latest kill.
“This sick bastard had the nerve to leave this note for the detectives. They don’t have any idea who this guy could be or what his motivation is. All they know is that there have been five murders in the last three months and the press is all over them,” Detective Jim Warner stated.
“Well that’s just the beginning of their problems. Looks like these detectives, who really aren’t trained for this type of thing, were a little too quick to wrap up some of their earlier crime scenes. There’s a lot of mismatched information, lack of concrete evidence, things just don’t add up. But the evidence points to the same killer, the same MO,” Sandman told Jim and Detective Masterson.
“We’re making these connections. The media knows we’re involved. I think we should keep looking at the Thompson case. There’s something there. I just can’t put my finger on it. The evidence that was found in the perpetrator’s home was laid out in plain view. This is not the work of the same killer. I think the killer was feeling the pressure of possibly being caught and planted the evidence,” Sandman said.
