Deadly Secrets *Completed*

Chapter Eighteen- Creeper Doll

Chapter 18- Creeper Doll

He was on the prowl again. This time he came upon a woman walking to a cemetery. That piqued his curiosity, he followed her and stuck to the shadows, creeping along as she did. What woman willingly takes a midnight stroll to a cemetery when there is a killer on the loose? Either she was incredibly foolish, or very brave. Maybe she was both. Maybe she didn't care either way.

When Ryder laid eyes on her he knew she wasn't like other Dolls. He could sense it. He could feel it rolling off of her in tidal waves. He could see defiance light behind those dark-brown eyes. His gaze followed her backside until she took a seat on the cold ground, positioning herself at a dark-gray tombstone and then delicately opened the sketchbook she had been gripping in her hands as if her life depended on it

Ryder slicked his tongue across his lower lip, wetting it as his interest in her piqued to another level. He watched her in fascination as she sketched an inky black Raven that sat perched by on a headstone. And upon further notice, the grave she sat directly upon belonged to a well known Serial Killer.

He couldn't have wanted anyone anymore than he did her at that point in time. But he needed to wait. He needed to take it slow and learn her regular routine before he snatched her from the shadows. She was too unique to treat as any other Doll. No, this would take some finesse, he would need to treat her with special care; do his routine differently with her.

Ryder watched her as she sat there in an entranced daze, drawing for hours. She was so into her sketch that he could hear the tip of the pencil as it sketched against the art paper, drawing out every detail needed. The crows cawed, the moon cast a pale glow down upon her already-pale-skin making her seem more ghostly, more eerily ethereal than anyone he'd ever encountered before. The more he observed her, the more he knew she was a one-of-a-kind.

Who was she? What was her story? What lured this Doll out into the cover of the night? What was she thinking? Why choose that particular grave to sit upon? What was she hiding?

The questions kept knocking around inside his mind, he knew the only way to have all the answers was to take her, and when he does... it will be game on. He won't kill her until he's learned everything about her that he possibly could. There are so few that ever catch his attention, but the ones that do have never brought him to this level of curiosity that he must know everything about them.

He took cover behind a tree as she pushed herself up, dusting her hands off before walking away. Ryder waited a few moments before discreetly trailing behind her, cautious of every step he took. He was far enough away from her that he could casually stick a cigarette between his lips, light it up and take a deep puff. Smoke painted the atmosphere around him, swirling up into the night sky before disappearing.

As he stamped out the cigarette, picked it up and shoved it into his pocket as a chilly breeze gently blew through her long, luscious hair; blowing another scent in his direction. He paused a moment and deeply inhaled the scent of Cherries and Roses, taking it in, ingraining into his memory. He bit down a moan and started walking behind her again. It took everything within him to keep his palm on the hilt of the hunting knife, keeping it sheathed.

How far away does this Doll live? Does she have a family? Does she live alone? Does she have skeletons in her closet that he could rip out of her?

She would need to be semi-close to her home if she could walk it. He bet that she lived about a twenty to thirty-minute walk away from the cemetery.

He smirked behind his dark hoody as they approached her home about twenty minutes later. Right on time.

Ryder waited across the street as she quietly opened the door and went inside. The lights were off. She was stealthily sneaking into her own home? No one knew she was going out at night? He pondered. That could be a way for him to get a jump on her. If no one knew of her nightly escapades then this could go very smoothly. And with her cautiously sneaking into her own home, he assumed that no one knew about what she was doing in the middle of the night.