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"Wait, what? You mean that misfit type woman, what's her name, Sadie? Someone killed her?" He sounded incredulous. "No, man, that's not right. She never deserved it! Look, I know she was selling pills but I wasn't going to give her a hard time about it. She buys from me, too. Or has. Or rather, did. Yeah, I said she was on my turf, but we knew where we stood with each other. I was just trying to show the other guys that I was tough and they needed to stop hounding me away."
He looked horrified, as if he'd just given far too much information away in that brief, shocked outburst.
May considered his words. Helpful as they were, this wasn't the reaction she'd expected from him.
"Where were you in the early hours of the morning, onward? Do you have an alibi at all for any time of this day? And I want the truth!" she threatened.
Skunk sighed.
"I got chased away from the party at about two a.m. I didn't stick around, man. I went through to a nightclub and sold some stuff there. I even saw one of the guys there. Name of Miles. You ask him, we know each other. He was there with some good looking girl. And then at seven a.m. I reported for my parole check-in. The officer wasn't there so I had to wait a couple hours until he arrived. The times are all recorded. I left there at about ten-thirty."
He spread his arms, staring innocently at May.
She nodded, feeling surprised that his version had, in fact, added up.
He could not have been the killer, even though May was still going to double check his alibi and also planned to hold him on drug dealing charges. But as far as these murders went, they were going to have to go back to the drawing board. This lack of suspects was deeply concerning. It was now night time, and they still had no idea who the perpetrator was.
They had two victims, who had attended the same school.
May decided that she now had to draw on the common threads between these two girls. There must be some. There had to be a reason why these two, out of many, were deliberately targeted. May knew she had to dig into those potential reasons. If she pulled on the right thread, she hoped it would lead her further in the search.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The girls were ripe for the picking. Prom night was over. He'd waited so patiently, he knew. How he'd controlled himself. Patience reaped its own rewards.
The teacher smiled as he thought about it. What pleasure there had been in finally getting close to his objects of desire.
Two beautiful girls. Among the most beautiful in the class, he thought. His own personal first and second princesses. His own idols of the prom.
He hadn't taken them until they were ready. But he knew prom night meant they were ready.
They were women now, and they could be his. And yet, they had rejected him. He’d seen it in their eyes.
It was unfortunate they had to die as a result. He knew that was very sad. He'd felt a deep pang of guilt when he'd taken the first one.
But then he'd reminded himself that she'd led him on. Her lips, her eyes, her beautiful hair had all been a clear invitation, even though she hadn't known it. She’d led him on and then, heartlessly, caused him grief by ignoring him.
Hovering around them at school, he'd watched as they flirted. Laughing, tilting their heads, playing with their hair, they'd sent out the signals he was waiting for. But not to him, even though he’d noticed every one.
He had even followed them home, careful to stay out of sight. He had taken many pictures of them, just to freeze the moments in time.
They would forever live in his memory. He felt he had captured their essence.
This way, they would always be his. It was a more beautiful ending, perhaps the perfect ending to their lives.
He had known what was going to happen and that gave the teacher a warm feeling that was like the very best kind of head rush. He closed his eyes, and he recalled the moments that he’d watched them, knowing they were his, and always would be.
With pride in his heart, but sadness, too, he’d watched them dance at the prom, both of them, in the flashes of strobe light. He'd watched them in the darkness of the night, walking over the moist grass, in the moonlight.
And in his heart he'd felt a surge of regret that neither of them looked at him the same way. Oh, no. They reserved all their attention, all their charms, for those stupid, juvenile boys.
But he was something special. He was better than those boys. He was older, and he knew what he was doing.
After all, he was a man, while those boys were nothing more than children.
He'd felt a rage at that, and it had festered until the feeling had become too much. He'd crushed the feeling down, and he'd waited. They had chosen their own fate. It was their fault that they’d angered him and caused him to have to do what he did.
He'd watched them; then he'd taken them.
