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Prologue
The Louisiana Bayou
October
She wasn’t quite dead.
Though her eyes seemed fixed as they stared up at the night sky, her breathing was shallow, her heart still faintly beating as she lay, faceup on the tarp. She was still alive, but barely, only inches and seconds from meeting the grim reaper, which was a good thing, he thought. No longer could she taunt or ridicule anyone. No longer would she ever smirk again. Comatose, so near death that it would take little for her to cross over, she lay on the marshy bank of the bayou, an easy victim.
Crouching over her, he grinned at her ultimate vulnerability. If he wanted to, he could slice her throat and watch drips of blood accumulate over the grotesque smile he would carve into her white flesh.
He considered doing the deed with his knife, a slim switchblade that felt heavy in his pocket.
But no, she was close enough to death already and he had another, more intimate way of slicing her.
Something jumped into the murky water not ten feet away. A bullfrog maybe? It reminded him to get back to work; he didn’t have much time. A full moon was rising, casting silvery shadows through the white-barked cypress, their roots exposed, Spanish moss draping over the dark water. Crickets chirped, fish jumped, and the water lapped gently in the isolated stretch of Louisiana.
Beads of sweat dotted his brow and ran down his face, creating salty tracks that passed over his lips and dropped onto her still body as he took her left hand in his, splaying her fingers easily. Antique diamonds winked in the pale moonlight, their brilliance seeming to mock him. Oh, what those icy stones had meant, the promises that had been vowed, the secrets they held.
A deep, smoldering rage ran through him as he eyed the stones. Using his free hand, he pulled a slim, automatic pocket knife from his pocket and clicked the blade open. It too reflected the moonlight. Without hesitation, he went to work, holding her fingers wide, then cutting quickly, nearly seamlessly slicing her finger off at the knuckle.
She didn’t so much as flinch.
As her blood pumped, he yanked the ring from its ugly stump and felt a welling satisfaction at a job well done.
Straightening, he looked down at her, nearly a corpse, her gauzy dress filthy, her beautiful face condemned to death.
He held her finger in his open palm, the ring now his.
Exquisite diamonds.
So easily removed.
So easily pocketed.
Satisfied, he kicked the body off its mound, watching it roll down the short bank. With a soft splash, she slipped into the murky water to float for a second, catching the slow moving current, heading downstream and out of sight.
“Good riddance,” he whispered.
He took in several deep breaths and wiped his brow before pocketing his treasure. As he turned back toward the dense foliage, he heard another sound over the chorus of crickets and bullfrogs, a quiet, ominous splash, the sound of a large reptile sliding into the water.
Perfect, he thought as the creature swam noiselessly under the water’s surface. He smiled as he hurried to his hidden truck, knowing that she was already gator bait.
As if on cue, there was a loud splash, a frantic, sickening roiling of water, a flash of a white belly as the reptile rolled to make its kill, jagged teeth sinking into her skin, vise-like jaws gripping and pulling her under the water until the last bit of air escaped her lungs.
Then all went quiet for a second as the stillness of the bayou surrounded him and only the barest of ripples spread to the surrounding water. The chorus of insects, momentarily silenced, began again.
A fitting end, he thought. It served the cheating bitch right.
Chapte
