Chapter Four
Reaper
I finish my work in my basement and begin to clean and disinfect the metal table and the tools I used on this latest case.
All valuable parts are packed away and ready to be shipped once the buyers make payment. I’ve never had someone not pay. These bastards are too greedy for what I can provide them. Some are collectors and then there’s some who have a certain… appetite.
I don't typically accept money for the actual hits. I willingly take out these scumbags who prey on women and children and get off on hurting them. But I have to make a living somehow. So that’s where selling parts of them to my clients comes in. And damn, I make good money from it and live very comfortably.
Before I return upstairs, I take a shower. I installed a bathroom here so I could wash up after my work is done. The thought of introducing blood or anything else from these lowlifes into my private living area disgusts me. I like to keep my work and home separate. That is except for the various unique decor throughout my home which just so happens to be made from human bones.
I have a thing for bones. Breaking them, smashing them, carving them into beautiful pieces of art. Not only is it work, but a special hobby of mine. Sometimes, I like leaving rather interesting displays of my victims with their bones not exactly where they should be or simply missing. It’s how I first got my name.
The Bone Reaper.
I enter the code on the keypad and the door opens to the main floor of my home. As I enter my bedroom, I drop my towel and crawl into bed. It only takes a few minutes before I fade off for hours.
Killing people is exhausting.
I log onto my secure account on the dark web and five new email notifications pop up. I open the latest one.
Dear Mr. Reaper,
I’m not even sure if this is really going to reach you but I'm desperate at this point. I need your help. Well, my friend, Charlotte actually needs your help. My name is Lily and I am requesting your rather special services for my friend. She has been in a really abusive relationship for four years. It's been getting progressively worse. I write this to you now as she lies in the hospital with the worst injuries she’s ever had. He almost killed her this time, and I fear, the next time he really might. I am begging you to help her. She’s my best friend. I can't lose her. It’s been torture watching the light from her fade over these years. She’s slowly dying. In more ways than one. So please, do what you do and save my best friend. Her name is Charlotte Clark and her boyfriend is Jason Doyle. They live in Wellesley, Massachusetts.
Thank you,
Lily
It’s not often I receive messages from someone's friend. Usually, it's a family member or the victim themselves pleading for help. Lily obviously cares deeply for her and Charlotte is lucky to have her.
I switch screens and get to work pulling up any information I can on a Charlotte Clark and Jason Doyle in Wellesley. When you’ve been doing this for as long as I have, you tend to make connections over the years. Knowing other people like myself certainly has its benefits. Like having access to the information I need to plan my hits.
I first pore through her social media page and find the last picture she posted. Dated three years ago, it’s her and another female with a caption that reads: My ride or die, I love you forever.
The pretty woman to the right must be Lily. My eyes land back on the raven-haired beauty on the left. Her arms are wrapped around her friend as the picture is captured mid-laugh, pure happiness.
I stare way longer than I should, absorbing every inch of her. Crystal blue eyes, flawless light complexion, pink cheeks, and a sparkling smile that feels contagious.
I’m sure she hasn't smiled or laughed like this in a very long time. I'm guessing that's why it’s been three years since she posted this picture.
I will return her smile, her laugh, and joy. I will gift her back her life.
The Bone Reaper is coming, Charlotte.