Chapter Four
The door of the bar swung open, letting out a wash of light.
From across the street, he saw her step into the glow, coat half-buttoned, hair catching the amber light before the door closed again, sealing her in shadows.
The young woman swayed, her hand touching the lamppost as she steadied herself with a laugh, her breath clouding in the cold mountain air.
After a short while, she pushed on, her high heels tapping along the sidewalk, the rhythm unsteadied but determined.
The man followed at a distance, far enough that she wouldn’t hear the scrape of his boots. Pine-scented air, sharp as a needle, mingled with the faint aroma of woodsmoke. Somewhere nearby, a wind chime stirred, thin notes tumbling through the night.
The town was mostly asleep. A neon sign hummed outside a nail salon, its pink glow flickering on the frosty pavement. Nearby, a truck engine coughed to life then faded into the darkness. Every sound felt magnified: the whisper of wind through bare branches, the crunch of leaves beneath his boots.
The sway of her hips and the long strands of brown hair brushing just above her behind, caught him in a quiet spell.
The sound of her heels was hypnotic: sharp and uneven, fading and returning like a heartbeat he could feel in his chest. An ache of want mixed with anger swirled through him as blood rushed to his groin. My sweet princess.
Then she stilled and looked over her shoulder. His pulse tightened and he stepped farther into the shadows, the bark of a dog masking the sound of his movement. When the woman turned again, she was faster, the click of her heels quick and nervous.
Two blocks ahead her apartment building came into view.
The brown-haired man knew the old stone structure well.
Ever since he spotted the lovely brunette at the grocery store, he knew she would make a perfect princess.
The desire consumed him day and night, and he’d walked more times than he could count past the building, taking note of all the entrances and lack of security.
The predator pulled back when his intended victim slowed, then hesitated.
He could tell she felt it, that ripple of unease that came when something didn’t feel quite right.
Her hand went into her purse, fumbling for something.
He slipped farther into the shadows. She turned, scanning the street.
He held his breath. Then she turned back, keys jiggling in her hand, her pace urgent.
Stumbling up the walkway, she lunged at the door, hurriedly trying to fit the key in the lock as she glanced over her shoulder every couple of seconds.
He lingered at the edge of the apartment lawn, hidden in the shadows beneath a leaning pine.
He stood there watching the key scrape against the lock, her desperation palpable.
The door opened, flooding the sidewalk with light, then shut again with a hollow thud that echoed down the empty street. Most of the windows were dark, except for a few dull rectangles of light leaking past drawn drapes, flickers from televisions, the muted blue of screens.
The silence pressed in, broken only by the whisper of wind in the trees, the rustle of dry leaves brushing across asphalt.
A cough pushed through his lips, and he quickly stuffed an unwrapped lozenge in his mouth, sucking hard on it.
His breath misted in the air as he rolled his tongue over the cherry cough drop, images of what was to come flashing like quicksilver behind his brown eyes.
His princess was upstairs now, he could sense it.
A window blinked to life on the second floor, warm against the cold dark stone.
He shifted, hands buried deep in his coat pockets.
He took a step closer to the building, stopping where the light from her window stretched faintly across the sidewalk.
Minutes dragged on as he stood there, unmoving, watching the shadows pass across the blinds: one, then another, then stillness.
He exhaled, a slow stream of vapor in the cold, heart thudding, heavy and slow.
When her window went dark, he pulled on a pair of blue nitrile gloves then made his move, across the grass, around the corner to the side entrance. Taking out his tool, he had the door opened in less than thirty seconds.
The man moved quietly up the concrete stairs, each step measured and deliberate, his weight shifted to the edges to keep from making noise.
A single bulb flickered above, throwing long, broken shadows that slid over his shoulders as he passed.
Every nerve in his body was on high alert, the anticipation of what was to come was off the charts.
At the landing, the predator paused, his hand resting on the cold metal handle before easing the door open just enough to slip through.
The hallway beyond was dim, lit by a dying fluorescent bulb that hummed faintly.
Moving down the narrow corridor, his footsteps were soundless on the worn carpet.
He stopped in front of the apartment door, pulse steady but deep, listening for any sound from within before inserting the lock pick into the keyhole.
The door opened, and he walked in, careful not to make a sound for fear of waking his precious princess.
A residual aroma of patchouli lingered in the air, wrapping around him, making his penis grow harder.
A guttural groan escaped through his lips, and he clasped his hand over his mouth, eyes darting around the darkened room.
Willing himself to calm down, the man stood there, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark, shapes and shadows emerging from the blackness until the room took form.
The apartment was silent except for the low steady drone of the heater.
He padded through the room then stopped at the hallway: A thin golden strip beneath the door ahead cut through the darkness. Creeping toward the door, his heart pounded in his ears, anticipation surging through him. I’m coming, Princess. I’m coming.
Slowly, the intruder turned the doorknob.
A small nightstand lamp cast a soft, pale glow that barely reached the corners of the room.
Its light pooled across the sheets which half covered his princess who lay asleep on her side, one arm curled beneath her cheek, strands of dark hair brushing her face.
Her breathing was slow and even, peaceful.
He stood for a long moment, simply watching her, heat stirring within him as he stared at her rounded hips and long shapely legs.
In three long strides he was beside her. He shrugged off his coat, licked his dry lips, and stared at the red thong panties and the rounded butt cheeks that had him ready to explode.
“What the fuck?” The woman grabbed the sheet and pulled it up over her. “Who the hell are you?” Her voice was low and roughened by sleep, words slipping together with a slur.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, Princess.” He smiled at her.
“Get out of here.” Shards of fear glittered in her unfocused eyes.
“I won’t hurt you. I never hurt my princesses.” He reached out to stroke her hair, but she batted his hand away. “You shouldn’t do that,” he hissed.
Then she let out a scream that pierced his ears and sliced through his desire.
“Shut the fuck up, you bitch!” A blind rage like a fire swept over him. His right shoulder rolled back, and his fist crashed into her face. Over and over, he beat her until she stopped moving. Sweat poured down his face mixed with tears of anger and sadness.
Pulling away from her, he sat on the edge of the bed breathing heavily.
A soft moan sounded from behind him, and his head snapped around.
He watched the rhythm of her chest, slowly rising and falling, and a knot tightened low in his gut.
He pushed up from the bed, slipped on another pair of gloves, and pulled off his clothes, his eyes never leaving her body.
“You’ve been a bad princess,” he whispered in her ear as he secured her wrists tightly to the headboard. “Very bad.” He pulled off her thong and stuffed it in her mouth.
Her eyelids fluttered open, confusion then fear widening her gaze. Shaking her head, she pulled at the rope securing her arms.
“I don’t think you’re going to get your tiara.” Pushing her legs wide apart, he pummeled her hard, very hard. Her guttural moans were music to his ears.
After he came, he looked down at her swollen face, pleading eyes, and hate burned deep inside him. He wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed, her eyes glossed over, her body bucked until she was no more.
The killer stared down at her, his jaw tightening. “You’re not my princess, bitch!”
Fifteen minutes later, the killer slipped out of the building, the exit door closing behind him with a muted click.
The night air hit sharp and cold, biting through his coat.
As he walked, his footsteps echoed softly between the rows of apartment buildings, their facades dark and silent except for the occasional glow of a window.
He kept his head down, hands buried in his pockets, fingers brushing against the tinseled tiara.
The bent wire and rough glitter caught against his skin, cool and delicate.
For a moment the man stilled, disappointment rankling his skin.
Then he pushed on, moving quickly past the sleeping buildings, toward the shadows of the side street, and where his car waited several blocks away.
He’d have to find another princess soon.