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Killing a junkie is one thing. Murdering a cop is a whole nother. Cops don’t give a shit about who they consider lowlifes. They come across a dead addict? They’ll hardly look into it. They’ll say they deserved to die. You kill a cop though? You’ll have the entire brotherhood of blue on your back.
I’ll admit, it shook me up. They’d come looking for him. They’d know where he was working. He would have to check in at some point. It was my biggest mistake. I wasn’t aware there was some sort of operation in the area. Someone was selling laced heroin that was killing its users, and the cops were hoping to catch them.
I didn’t have time to dismember him or wrap him up. I couldn’t chance hauling away his body in case anyone saw. I had to leave him there, thereby giving up my workplace. I did the best cleanup job you could do in a house like that, getting rid of any evidence that I may have had there. But before I walked away for the last time, I had to ruin my work. He had been stabbed just between his ribs. Like the others. I couldn’t leave him that way. I didn’t want a cop to be added to the list of victims for the Heart Stopper. I had to make it a little sloppier.
The only good thing about the location is that the cops would take one look and assume it was where drug addicts and homeless people went. It might’ve been at one point. When I found it, the only changes I made were to board up the windows and put locks on the doors. Nobody would ever be able to get in there while I was. I was sure to remove the hardware I installed before I left.
I fled shortly after. His death was on the news constantly. Most assumed an addict killed him. Some thought it was a drug dealer who found out he was a cop. Even though nobody had any reason to link it to the Heart Stopper, or to Quintin Black, I couldn’t stick around.
So, here I am, a Soledad Square resident after attempting to live in New Mexico for a brief time. There, in the Land of Enchantment, a new killer emerged. I didn’t want to be the Heart Stopper anymore. I couldn’t resurrect him and have it all over the news. The few people in New Mexico were killed in different ways, as to not create a pattern. None of it was as satisfying though. Once I lost the thrill, I decided to move on, and that’s how I ended up here, trying to be a normal citizen. I can’t kill people the way I want to. Not without bringing heat to my back, and I don’t want to do it any other way.
Nobody knows about my stint in the southwest region of the United States. Not even Kaspian with all his research and background checks. There’s no way that was traceable.
Kaspian.
Where the fuck is he and what is he up to? I know I shouldn’t care. He’s doing what I told him to do, but I find his acquiescence strange.
“Hey, Ezra,” Willow chirps as I walk into work.
“Hey, Will,” I reply with a nod.
She groans. “Could you at least call me Low or something? Will is too masculine, and I’m dainty,” she says with a flirty grin.
I quickly notice her tight jeans and snug sweater, showcasing the curves of her hips and the swell of her breasts. “Got it.”
Willow smiles. “Got any plans this weekend? Haven’t seen you at The Hideout lately.”
I haven’t been since that time with Kaspian.
“No, not really.”
“It’s Halloween,” she says, as if that’s reason enough to go out.
“The holiday where kids ask for candy?” I muse.
She rolls her eyes. “The holiday where adults can dress up and get drunk.” She walks away from the water cooler with a small cup and drops into her seat behind the desk. “There’s a bar crawl this weekend. Between Park Avenue and Aurora Road there’s like eight different bars and pubs, and everyone is gonna dress up and visit all of them. It’ll be fun. You should come.”
I make a face. “I don’t know.”'
“Oh, come on. Please,” she says with a pout, her clasped hands resting under her chin. “You can leave after the first bar if you’re not having fun.”
She’s cute and sweet, and I’ve declined several other invites, so I agree.
“Fine. But I’m not dressing up.”
“What? You have to!”
She goes on for a while about why I need to dress up, and even attempts to give me simple ideas. We end up talking for a while, and I find out more about her in thirty minutes than I have in the last year and a half that I’ve been working here. Guess it’s safe to say I’ve been pretty closed off.
“Let me give you my number,” she says. “You can text me on Friday night and I’ll tell you where to meet me.” I hand her my phone and watch as her manicured nails tap on my screen. The swoosh sound of a text being sent follows. “I texted myself, so now I have your number, too.”
She blushes slightly when she returns the phone. I smile at her and slip it into my pocket.
“Guess I should get to work,” I tell her.
“Guess so.”
I’ve always thought I couldn’t have a normal dating life. Everyone I’ve slept with has been temporary. One night, or sometimes three. But maybe if I gave Willow a chance we could have something longer than that. She’ll never know who I really am. She won’t be able to meet Quintin. She’ll never let me cut her while I stroke my cock. She won’t accept that dark part of me, but maybe this is another step I need to take in order to be normal. There’s a chance that being with her, and all the light she brings into a room, will make me want to be a better person rather than slip into old ways.
