Crimson Lies

Chapter Three

Unknown

Four AM was a lonely time, the darkness had an empty feel to it. Trees cracked and creaked as the temperature dropped. The icy breeze scraped over exposed skin like pumice, raising a dull flush. A light dusting of snow made everything brighter, colder. Lonelier.

I pulled my ski-mask lower over my face, got out of my SUV, and checked that no one was around. I drew on gloves, blowing into the palms of my hands to heat cold flesh. Getting rid of a body was harder than most people would credit. I was physically fit and even I had trouble pulling a full-grown woman out of the back of my car and moving her dead weight any distance.

The body bag made it awkward to get a grip but with a little effort I managed to get it over my shoulder. I closed the door quietly, picked up my flashlight and headed into the bush.

There was a spot I remembered from a hike last summer, about three hundred yards off one of the official paths. She was unlikely to be found before spring, and it was close enough to the creek that critters were bound to come across the body sooner rather than later and help destroy any lingering evidence. And as careful as I'd been, I wasn't naive enough to believe there was nothing left to link her to me.

I'd have buried her, but the ground was like concrete. This would have to do.

I ducked off the path, crunching through the detritus that littered the forest floor. I found the spot I'd earmarked and turned, scanning with my flashlight, looking for the best way to conceal the body. There was an eroded bank undercutting a huge sugar maple. I strode over, dumping the heavy bag on the ground, relieved to be rid of my burden, rolling my shoulders to ease the ache.

It took a moment to grasp the zipper with my gloved fingers, then I rolled her out like a broken toy. Except for the bruises, she was pale against the snow. I caught her wrists and pulled her up against the wall of the earthen bank. Her hair dragged through the dirt, leaves tangling in the black strands.

She'd been a mistake.

Her hair was the right shade, but her eyes were mud rather than whiskey. Jaw line too square. Hands too big. Mouth too vulgar and bitchy. By the end she'd repulsed me. I straightened her legs, moving her hands to cover her pubic hair. I'd burned her clothes; wiped her body down with Lysol.

There was a dull throb in my chest. A heaviness that affected my breathing. I'd thought she might be the right one, but she wasn't. I touched the initials carved above her heart, regret and loneliness slamming into me. My fists curled.

She shouldn't have died. I shouldn't have lost her. It wasn't fair.

My breath shuddered out of my chest and I wanted to smash my fist against something. I eyed the girl's swollen features and looked away. She'd been a mistake, but I couldn't stop searching until I'd found a replacement. I stood, kicked leaves over the body, covering it from prying eyes, removing it from my sight. In a few hours the snow would shroud her, and when spring came the creek bubbling lazily at my back would flood this spot and sweep her away like garbage. I picked up the body bag, quickly scanned the area for anything I might have left behind, and started back to my car. Fifteen minutes in and out.

Cold air burned my lungs and I shivered beneath my sheepskin jacket. I got in the SUV and started her up, blasting the heater. Taking someone so close to home posed a risk in some ways, but in others it was smart and might throw people off the scent. And I didn't need to keep killing...just until I found the right one. I hadn't realized it would be so hard.

You know where to find the right one...

I gripped one hand over my skull, knees automatically curling into my stomach as I fought to control the SUV.