In a little town of no consequence, a wolf lives among the sheep. After much practice culling the flock of the surrounding area, he has mastered his technique.
Houston O'Neil may have found the perfect way to hide his victims in plain sight. Can th...
The red slowly faded from the corners of his vision as Houston O'Neil looked down upon the deed that he had just committed. He breathed heavily and rested against the dumpster nearby, collecting his thoughts and taking in a deep breath of the night air. He always found it pleasant the way the night air felt heavier, the increased humidity allowing the scents to carry to him and make him feel alive.
This night he was enjoying the subtle scent of wet earth hinting at the coming rainfall mingling with a warm yeasty bread smell from the bakery down the street. Houston wrinkled his nose as the wind died down and the sour smell of the rotting garbage contained behind the thick metal walls of the dumpster filled his nostrils. With a sigh he pushed away from the offending odor and took another deep breath, crossing his arms behind his back. This time the crisp Autumn air brought not only those familiar scents of rain and bread but also the musty aroma of rotten leaves and the sharp metallic scent of blood. The last of these always brought a shiver up Houston's back and a smile to his lips.
Hoisting the body over his large shoulders, Houston chuckled softly to himself as the distant rumble of thunder chased the flash of lighting overhead. Raindrops began to patter softly off the roof of his deep blue Lincoln Town Car as he slammed the truck and tossed his disposable rubber gloves into the dumpster of the Chinese restaurant he had parked behind. Houston surveyed the alley one last time to ensure there were no cameras or other obvious witnesses he may have overlooked, but of course, he was much too careful to make those kinds of mistakes.
With a satisfied nod, he opened the driver's seat of the car and pulled the lever to adjust the seat. He pulled it all the way forward then counted three clicks back before forcing the level down and causing a small compartment in the back of his center console to pop open. He opened the rear driver's door and slid the machete out from under his coat admiring the smeared coating of blood on the silvery surface. Running the blade under his nose he inhaled deeply this time taking in the not only the scent of blood but of fear and adrenaline. He slid the blade into the compartment, pushing the trap door back into place and pulling out the cup holders to ensure it stayed locked as he adjusted his seat back into place. Houston sank back into the plush leather seat and checked his rear-view mirror before starting the engine and pulling out onto the street to head home.
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Houston rose from his bed around 9 AM, the thought of the task before him giving him energy despite only a few hours of sleep. Grabbing a cup of coffee, he walked out from his small house on the outskirts of town and walked out to the barn to start the forge for today's work. Turning on the gas lines, he set the insulated bricks in place as he always did, inspecting all his tools to ensure nobody had been snooping around. Of course, nobody could have entered the barn without his knowing, he was no amateur anymore... but alas, old habits are one of those things that seem to refuse to stay dead.
Satisfied everything was in order, Houston slid the quenching barrel to the side and opened the trap door hidden beneath. The previous owner of this house had operated a small farm and had built a butchering room underneath the barn. The room served nicely for his purposes as he switched on the single fluorescent light moved a partially empty barrel out of his way.
