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PROLOGUE
LEAVES CRUNCH UNDERFOOT. The black closes around him; he exists only in the narrow tunnel of light from the car’s headlights. He takes a deep breath in. The forest smells of wet foliage; mud; clear, crisp air. So far it has been as good as he imagined it would be. It’s all coming together perfectly.
He’s holding a woman, one arm hooked under her knees, the other around her back. She’s still fresh, and blood runs out of the stab wounds, down his white plastic trousers. He savors the warmth on his cold hands.
He looks at her fondly for a moment, then heaves her into the trunk. She lands with a heavy thud against the second body, her leg lolling out over the bumper. He pushes it inside.
Everything has to be just right.
He looks at them both, then leans down and undoes the handcuffs. Even in the darkness he can see faint red and black marks on her wrist, made while she had a body responsive enough to bruise. He’s pleased: it’ll show what he did.
He walks back to the front of the car, opening the passenger side door. He picks up the two implements left in the footwell, taking the cover off one of them. The stainless steel blade of the knife shines, clean and newly sharpened. It’s his favorite; he knows it works best for instances like this. Smaller and more precise than the one he used to kill.
He takes both instruments back to the bodies. Stops. Looks at the girls. He’s never done this out in the open before, in the dark. He doesn’t like to be rushed. But needs must.
He grabs an arm and tugs her half out of the car trunk. He straddles her body, taking a good handful of hair. Blood flows, but he knows what he’s doing, it doesn’t interfere with his process.
He changes position, pulling the body around so he can get access to the other side. Then he puts the knife down and picks up the other tool. It’s bigger, heavier. The weight is reassuring. He does what he needs to do, and then, with a final twist and pull, it’s finished.
He stands up, rearranges the bodies, then repeats the action on the second girl. This one is quicker, his technique is better second time round, and after, he pauses, standing back from the car and appraising the scene in the trunk.
It’s not perfect. He sighs. It bothers him that he can’t complete the tableau properly this time, that none of this is in the correct order, but he wants these to be found.
He shuts the trunk. With the heel of his shoe, he smashes out the right taillight. He walks over to the second vehicle, pulling off the plastic clothing, placing it in another bag to burn later. He climbs in and puts his hand on the ignition key, willing the old car to work. As it splutters into life and he drives away, he looks back at the car. From the outside, nobody can tell what lies within.
Nobody can imagine what horrors are still to come.
PART 1
CHAPTER
1
Day 1
Monday
I AM SO fucking bored.
The thought darts into her head, intrusive and distracting. She looks in the mirror above the sink. The expression on her face isn’t lust or desire—it’s boredom. Pure unmitigated boredom.
