A Love to Kill

Part Six

Sorry if this is a little messy. I'll clean it up later.

Rodger woke up staring up at the ceiling in utter shock. He couldn't believe what had happened last night. He groaned to himself in frustration. How was he supposed to kill her if he cared for her in any way? He knew how much harder it was. It was never worth it. Rodger turned to the side with a sigh. God dammit, he wasn't supposed to have a bond with his victims! Sure, the kill was all the more thrilling, but the mourning and guilt he went through afterward wasn't worth it. What was he going to do? What a mess he was in. Yet still, her lips were so sweet. The taste of her was simply addicting. Her eyes, that hair, those hips. Everything about her was so seductive. She was unbelievable. Her smile, Rodger swooned. Surely she was some sort of sweet angel made for a monster like him. He wanted to rip the wings off of that angel so bad, and yet, on the other hand, he simply wanted to stay in her marvelous presence. He himself was so torn already. But he needed to put away those feelings welling up inside him. She wanted to die, and he wanted to kill her. He needed to focus on those feelings. He wanted to kill her, and see her blood. He couldn't think about the pain it would cause afterwards. She was just a girl, like any other, like the many others he had killed already.

Rodger got dressed, made himself a cup of coffee and skimmed the newspaper with little interest. Predictably, the headline blared out the words MISSING GIRL with a picture. Of course the newspapers would make a big deal out of the occurrence. She was a beautiful white girl. Who wouldn't want to hear a story like that? However, headlines like these were becoming too frequent. It was beginning to make people uneasy, especially when there were no additional headlines that read GIRL FOUND. People weren't stupid-they knew the missing girl was probably dead.  They also knew the police weren't very successful in finding the killer, or in fact any leads. But soon some sort of connection would be made.

A knock on the door reached him from the kitchen table. Rodger froze, wondering who it could be. Maybe it was him. It was certainly possible. Rodger jumped to the door and opened it. Standing there was Officer Houston.

"John." Rodger greeted. "I figured you'd come eventually."

"May I come in?"

"Of course." Rodger let him in, and John took a seat on the couch. Sandy hair swished in his face, and wrinkles creased his blue eyes as he appraised Rodger. Once he was probably quite handsome, but age had not been kind of the old police officer. Except it took pity on his body-it lacked the usual bulge of a man his age.

"You know why I'm here?"

"Well, I have everything to do with these missing girls, don't I?"

Houston smiled, though it didn't touch him eyes. "I haven't been here in a while."

"No you haven't. But it looks the same, doesn't it?"

"I can't believe you still live here, after your grandma died. It gives me shivers even sitting in here."

"Well, a house is a house, and it's such a hassle to see."

"So I guess you know about the missing girl?"

"I do."

"Where do you think she is?"

"Hopefully she just ran off somewhere with a boyfriend."

"My gut tells me she's dead."

"Because of all the missing ones before that haven't shown up yet?"

"Exactly. And we're pretty sure that it's the same person that's killing these girls. The timing has been too predictable, and there's too many for the murderer to be a string of different people."

"So what do I have to do with these murders?"

"Well, your parents were the first reported in the area to be killed. They were the start of everything."

That they were. "But this murderer only kills girls, right?"

"Not exactly. When the murderers first started there were a few boys that mysteriously went missing."

It wasn't that Rodger needed to specifically kill girls, for the craving only longed for blood and death, but girls were easier to kill. When girls were cornered, they froze or screamed, or begged for mercy. When boys were cornered they were more likely to put up a fight.

"But isn't it unusual for a murderer to start violently then mellow out? Shouldn't it be the opposite?"

"That's usually how it goes." Houston admitted. "But...I don't know. Maybe I'm making connections from coincidences because I'm so desperate."

"I don't blame you. There's nothing more in the world that I want more than to see the man that murdered my parents behind bars."

"Well, I know it's a long shot, but is there any way you remember what the murderer looked like?"

Rodger couldn't look Houston in the eyes. "No. I'm sorry, but I hid under my bed when I heard the gunshots, and didn't leave until I heard the front door closed."

"Why did the murderer leave you?" the officer wondered, more to himself than to Rodger. "He didn't spare your parents. Looking in your room, it probably would have been obvious that there was a kid hiding somewhere."

"I don't know why he left me alone." Rodger muttered.

Houston sighed. "I'm sorry. I know I'm just asking you the same questions over and over again. And I know how difficult all this is for you. I just....if you saw him, it would help the investigation so much. But I know you just keep telling me the same answers. I don't know why I bother to hope for anything different."

Rodger chuckled. "I'd rather you care too much than not at all. It lets me know that this injustice will not be forgotten until it is righted."

Houston smiled, and this time it did touch his eyes.

"You helped me so much when they first died." Rodger continued. "I can't thank you enough for that. You comforted me." Indeed he did, though Houston hadn't a clue that he wasn't just comforting a boy who just lost his patents.

"Your parents were good people. We used to play cards together, do you remember?"

"I do. You were a good friend."

Houston laughed. "Your dad would always try and cheat on me. Your parents, they would work together to beat me. And whenever I called them out on it, they would play dumb."

Rodger joined him in laughter. "I hope they never got any money off you in that little stunt."

"Of course not-I wasn't that stupid, and it was all in good fun. Cheat the cop, you know." Houston sighed. "Well, if that's it, I have to get going. Sorry I can't stay any longer."

"Come back any time." Rodger invited. "This house is always open to you."

Houston nodded, left, and Rodger closed the door. His friendly smile folded in on itself. He did like Houston, he truly did, but it wasn't wise to be so close. They already knew his parents were his first victims-what else did Houston know, yet wasn't telling him?

Rodger sighed, hoping that everything would settle down. Maybe everyone would forget about the murdered girl and move on with their lives.