Chapter 10
“Well, here it is.” Alex grinned, pulling into the driveway of his newly renovated home.
His house sat on a quiet, tree-lined street just a few blocks from the ocean.
It wasn’t large, but it had a charm that drew you in before you even reached the porch.
His ranch-style home featured crisp white siding accented by charcoal shutters.
His landscape was meticulous, with hibiscus, white hydrangeas, and fragrant jasmine you could smell down the street, with a brick walkway leading to the porch.
I climbed out of the car and grabbed the box from the back seat, which housed his new literature books, while Alex grabbed the rest of his things from the trunk.
“It’s lovely so far.” I smiled.
“Wait until you see the inside.” He inserted the key into the lock.
I stepped inside and set the heavy box in the foyer.
Sunlight streamed through the oversized windows, giving the wide-plank white oak floors a warm glow.
The walls were painted ivory throughout, and large oak bookcases sat on each side of the limestone fireplace, where an 85-inch flatscreen TV sat on the wall above.
“This is really nice, Alex.” I smiled.
“Thank you. I was hoping you’d love it. But I will admit, I’m a little sad.”
“Why?” I turned and looked at him.
“I’ve gotten used to living with you, and now, I’ll be living here.”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll still see each other all the time. Probably even more.” I smiled.
“Promise?”
“I definitely promise.” I kissed his lips.
He picked me up and took me into the bedroom where he had his way with me for the next hour. As much as I enjoyed it, I couldn’t wait to go home and be alone.
Detective Walker only spent three days in the Keys and headed back to New York. I was grateful because there wasn’t anything here for her to find. If the opportunity came again, I’d have to be more careful. I couldn’t risk her putting two and two together and coming back here.
Once I arrived back home, I poured a glass of wine and took it out on the patio. I hadn’t seen or heard from Kris since the funeral, and I wondered how she was doing. I stood up and walked over to her house.
“Dahlia, hi.”
She didn’t look good. She was in her robe, and her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in over a week.
“How are you, Kris?”
“Taking it one day at a time. I thought I was doing okay until the life insurance check came. Just another reminder that my husband isn’t coming back.”
“I’m sorry.” I placed my hand on her arm.
“It’s fine. Let’s go sit in the living room.”
I followed her and sat down on the couch, and she sat in the wingback chair across from me.
“The police are questioning Rachel again,” she said.
“Oh? Why?” My brows furrowed.
“They got a search warrant for her place and took her computer. Apparently, her search history was filled with some murders back in New York. Something about The Widowmaker case.”
“Never heard about those,” I lied. “So the police think Rachel was the one who murdered Kevin?”
She shrugged. “Kind of looks that way. But it doesn’t make sense. Why would she kill him? They were going to New York together?”
“Maybe she wanted him to leave you, and he said no. Or perhaps, he went that night to break it off, and she snapped.”
“I don’t know. The text messages from her that night to him were pretty racy.”
“It might have been a ploy to get him there. I guess we’ll never know.” I stood from the couch. “I just wanted to check in on you.”
She stood from her chair, and we hugged. “Thank you, Dahlia. You are such a good friend.”
I gave her a polite smile and walked out the door.
Before I murdered Kevin, I broke into Rachel’s house when she was at the university and searched The Widowmaker cases on her computer, along with “How to kill someone and get away with it.” I planted motive.
Anything to keep the police away from me.
Did Rachel deserve to be set up? Yes, because she knew Kevin was married and didn’t care.
One Week Later
I awoke with a killer headache again. After getting dressed and taking some Motrin, I headed to work.
The morning sun poured through the gallery windows, casting warm shades of gold over the paintings in its path.
I arrived at work early to unpack the new shipment of artwork that had come in yesterday.
Tess had an appointment first thing this morning and would be late, so she told me to get a head start on the new display.
As I was unwrapping one of the paintings, the bell above the gallery door chimed, and Tess rushed inside carrying two coffees and her phone.
“Dahlia, have you seen the news?”
“No. I haven’t. I got here early to start unwrapping the new artwork. What happened?”
She stepped behind the counter, setting the coffees down with her trembling hands. What on earth happened that had her so shaken?
“It happened again,” she said.
“What happened?”
She grabbed her iPad from under the counter and brought up one of the local news stations.
“Breaking news this morning as the Monroe County Sheriff’s Office investigates the discovery of another young woman found dead in Key West. The victim, whose identity has not yet been released pending family notification, was discovered just before sunrise by a maintenance worker near Higgs Beach.
Authorities have confirmed similarities between this homicide and the recent murders of graduate student Beth Richter and university Professor Kevin Hadley. ”
“My God. I can’t believe this,” I said. “Did they say how she died?”
“No.” Tess shook her head. “That’s all they’re saying right now. I can’t believe this, Dahlia. I’m frightened.”
“It is unnerving,” I said.
“Oh look. They’re saying something else.”
“While the investigators have not released the possible cause of death, they have declined to comment on evidence recovered at the scene.”
I knew the reason the police were keeping this murder on the down low. They knew if they announced Key West had a serial killer, fear would settle amongst the community. Not that it already hadn’t.
“Do you think they’ll catch whoever’s doing this?” Tess asked.
“I hope so,” I sighed.
“I used to tell people that Key West was the safest place I’d ever lived.” She stared out the window at the people walking by. “Now, every time a young woman walks into this gallery alone, I’ll wonder if she’ll make it home.”
During my lunch break, I stepped outside and sat on a bench in front of the gallery. Pulling out my phone, I sent a text message to Alex.
“Have you seen the news?”
“I did, and it ruined my day. What is going on here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, I know enough to make me worry about you. I don’t want you going out by yourself until this maniac is caught.”
He was worried. How cute. However, I wasn’t the type of person to take orders from anyone. But I’d play along to ease his mind.
“I plan on it. Will I see you tonight?”
“I have my literature group. But definitely, tomorrow.”
“Okay. Try to have a good day.”
“You too, Dahlia. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Once my shift ended, I stopped, picked up some Thai food, and headed home. After pouring a glass of wine, I took it to the table with my plate and turned on the news.
“Our sources tell us that this was the work of The Last Chapter Killer. The young woman’s body was discovered at sunrise, carefully posed in the sand with her hands folded across her chest, and the words carved into her, ‘This is her last chapter.’”