Chapter 4
Four
Ryell
He’ll get me, he says.
I’m not invincible, he says.
I might not be, but I’m invisible. To him anyway.
When I’m not at work, I’ve been following Agent Lane Bauer for the past week, and he hasn’t spotted me. He doesn’t move like a man that has a killer on his trail. He moves fluidly, laughs freely, and travels without care.
He has a standard routine: work, where he stays for hours after most people leave, then to a bar called Drab Dragon if he’s had a long day, then home to his lonely apartment. Like most of my other victims, he almost makes stalking him too easy.
As I stand in the surgical suite, wiring a man’s jaw shut after a bar fight gone wrong, I think about Agent Bauer. Something about him draws me in. It could be his tenacity; the almost palpable urge he has to clap my wrists in handcuffs. I’m not sure what it is, but I want to know more.
Trying to get close to the very FBI agent that wants to see me locked away for the rest of my life isn’t smart, but I haven’t played with a live human in a while. Maybe I can get him to pose for me before I take his fucking head off and show the world his final state of repose.
After I finish the maxillomandibular fixation, I leave my patient to the emergency room staff that called me in for the procedure. I scrub out, write the report, then head back to my office.
The urge to drive past Agent Bauer’s office is strong. My hand even jerks to the side when I pass the street that would lead me to his FBI field office. But I keep driving to my clinic so I can see the remaining consult patients I have for the day.
When I step inside my office and put down my attaché case, one of my oral surgery dental assistants, Candice, knocks on my door, looking shaken.
Adapting a concerned expression, I round my desk and stand in front of her. “Candice, are you alright?”
She nods, then shakes her head. “Do you remember the woman that came in with Mrs. Waters, your rhinoplasty from last week?”
I gaze up in the air, as if trying to place her face. “Yes, I think so. Blonde woman?”
She nods again. “She was the woman found in those woods last week. She was the latest victim of The Poser.”
I gasp softly, sounding shocked. I’ve perfected emotion over the past few decades to know what’s passable and what isn’t. “Oh god, that poor woman.”
“I know. Her friend is here for her first follow-up, and she’s a mess.
I knew I recognized the woman when I saw her face on the news, but I didn’t put two and two together until a few moments ago.
” Her face sets into a hard mask. “Whoever did that to her is a sick bastard, and I hope the police find him soon.” She looks at me sheepishly. “Sorry for my language, Dr. Harper.”
“No need to apologize,” I tell her, lightly rubbing her arm in comfort. “It’s a sentiment we all share.”
I keep my smirk to myself.
Visibly shaking herself, Candice says, “Sorry for being unprofessional. Mrs. Waters is here to see you in room five.”
“Thank you. If you need time…” I let my voice trail off.
“No, I’m fine, Dr. Harper. Thank you.”
I incline my head in understanding, then follow her to room five to see my patient. Mrs. Waters smiles shakily at me, and I give her a gentle smile in return, though inside I’m hungrily eating up her pain.
“Mrs. Waters, let me start by saying I’m so sorry for your loss.” I take one of her hands gently in both of mine.
Her face crumples, and I devour the expression. It feeds that part inside of me that loves the anguish.
She wipes under her eyes gently and in a nasally voice says, “Thank you, Doctor. That means a lot.”
I’m silent for a few moments as a show of respect, then we get started with her follow-up appointment. Tears leak from her eyes steadily, making me think of Janet’s expression as she took her last breath and how the vacant sockets in her face made her look almost ethereal.
Thirty minutes later, the appointment is over and I’m brimming with satisfaction from my kill.
I fill out my patient notes, then leave for the day, telling Candice to route any emergency calls to the oral surgeon on call for the ER.
Now I can get to what I really want to do: learn more about Agent Bauer. Might as well start with his home.
The drive to his apartment is about thirty minutes from my office.
I park in his building’s underground garage, then take the elevator up to his floor.
There are no cameras in this building, since this area is generally safe, so I’m not worried about anyone spotting me heading to his residence.
I’m able to slip into his apartment without notice.
Once inside, I lock the door, remove my shoes, and carefully walk around.
He’s neat, nothing out of place. No leftover coffee is in the carafe, no dishes or even droplets of water in the sink. No stray appliances on the counter, and his refrigerator is as neat as a pin.
Black and green are the dominant colors in his outer space, the pop of color a treat to my eyes, much different than my monochromatic home.
In the living room, different shades of green pillows, fluffed and neat, are aligned on the couch as if staged for a buyer. The dark green rug is soft, my feet sinking into the material.
His bedroom is just as clean as the living room, also made up of shades of green and black. Black dresser, black nightstand, black comforter, with green blackout curtains and green pillowcases. The bed is made with military precision, the corners folded tight. I smirk.
I want Agent Bauer to feel unsteady.
While I want him to know someone was here, I don’t want him to immediately get it, not until his guard is down, not realizing he had a guest he didn’t invite.
So, I go over to side of the bed that’s opposite the door and pull out the corner of his sheets, letting the material hang. It’s not much, but with how precise he is, he’ll notice.
I smile at my work, then leave his apartment to prepare his next surprise.
My hands itch to sketch.
A white man, dark hair, pale skin.
A white shirt stained with blood and black pants that hug his frame.
One sock on his left foot, the other foot bare.
Lying face down, his brains exploded from his head.
A sledgehammer beside him.
Eyes open, mouth slack.
I look down at the man that I’ve posed, his eyes wide and peering up at me in fear. He can’t move, as I’ve injected him with a paralytic, but his gaze, full of terror, gives me what I need.
I heft the sledgehammer, weighing it in my hands. “I’ve never used one before,” I tell him, circling his prone body. I stop and tug one of his pant legs a little higher so it mirrors my drawing, then walk around his body once more to ensure his pose is perfect.
I got lucky. My current victim is almost the same size as me, so I was able to use clothes I already had, after I washed them several times to ensure none of my DNA was on them, of course.
“It’ll be messy. But it’s easier this way, don’t you think?” I ask, though I don’t expect a response. I circle back so I can see his face.
His eyes plead with me, his mouth open and slack, though I know he longs to beg for his life.
The sledgehammer is awkward, not feeling as good in my hand as my fifteen blade , but I’m not complaining.
I lower myself to my haunches and push some stray hairs off my victim’s forehead.
Liam Burns. We go to the same grocery store. I’ve seen him once or twice before but only felt the urge to pose him when I saw him two days ago after following my favorite FBI agent.
I didn’t even give myself time to stalk Liam to ensure he wouldn’t be missed. I just waited for him outside of his condo when he went grocery shopping.
When he pulled up to his home, arms laden with groceries, I injected him with a paralytic and dumped him in my trunk, along with bags. Like I always do, I kept him captive, watching him over the past two days as I dug into his background.
I found out later that he’s divorced and estranged from his family, so no one will be looking for him for a while.
I’ve never questioned how this…almost sixth sense of mine works when it comes to choosing my victims. There is hardly a time I find someone that doesn’t live alone or has little to no family. It just happens that way.
Tears leak from Liam’s eyes, even as revulsion enters his gaze when I touch him. I disgust him.
Good.
I rise to my full height and walk around his body again, dragging the sledgehammer behind me. Even though he can’t talk or scream, I know he’s afraid. I can feel the fear coming off him in waves, and I soak it up.
When I’m in position behind him, I say, “You’ll make a good gift, I suppose.”
I raise the sledgehammer and bring it down on Liam’s head. Once, twice, three times, until his skull gives way, blood and brain matter expelling from the hole in his head.
Panting, I step back and admire my handiwork. Liam’s body twitches, the last signs of life leaving him.
Smiling, I drop the sledgehammer close to his body, precisely how I drew it. I slide my gloved hands into my jacket pocket and pull out the sketch.
Walking in a slow circle, I make small changes to his pose, ensuring he’s perfect for Agent Bauer.
“I think this will show him how invincible I am,” I mutter to the corpse.
I smile at the three words I added. There will be no denying that this is his present, my message to him.
I wonder what he’ll think of it. I wonder if he’ll tell the news that he taunted me a little too much, and now there’s blood on his hands. After all, I planned to do what Jacob said and cool out for a while, but I’ve never been the type to back down from a challenge.
What happens next is up to Agent Bauer.