Prologue #2
On that third night, though, they would be brought back to the surface, and it was an arduous task.
It.
Took.
Hours.
But you couldn’t rush the process. It had to be done under the cover of night, as quietly as possible. All that work was worth the sweet reward.
With each victim he’d killed and chosen to unearth, he had to make sure they were put where he wouldn’t be watched, and luckily for him, there was only one that fit his criteria.
It was big.
It was quiet.
It was accessible.
It was his hunting ground.
While digging up his precious flowers, he had to stay alert because it took HOURS to dig up a body, and it was work.
Ahhhh, but the treasure afterward was well worth it.
Like now.
Lory Vanbruggen was within his reach. Using the drill he’d gotten, he undid each of the corners of the casket to open it up. It was tricky when standing on it, but he managed to lift the lid.
And find her.
The family had paid a lot for her burial, and he wanted to make sure they got their money’s worth.
Every.
Single.
Penny.
She was still beautiful, and in the moonlight, he enjoyed how she looked.
She was pristine in her pretty white dress that someone had lovingly picked out for her.
He almost wished he wasn’t such a dirty mess from digging.
“Hello, Lory, my sweet flower. It’s been too long. I’ve missed you.”
He grinned at her.
She looked like she was sleeping, and he loved that moment before he could defile them when they looked like sleeping angels.
Unlike the women he’d run over, or hit with his car, they were a mess.
But not this one.
The person in charge of the makeup at the mortuary did a damn good job for him.
How?
He liked them with less makeup, and more natural beauty shining through.
That got him harder, faster.
It shouldn’t, but it did.
It was the only thing that got the juices flowing, and while he didn’t know why, he didn’t care.
Let them stop him.
Or try.
“We have a little date. I can’t help but tell you how long I’ve waited to do this. Following you around, and making sure I could take your life without being caught seems to take forever. Now, though, my sweet flower, I have you. You’re mine, and we’re going to be very happy together.”
Slowly, he slid the dress up her body, and cut through the undergarments she wore.
Those, he’d keep for himself.
That was one more thing to collect, and he had quite a few at his place.
It always amused him how much care a family put into picking out things for them when they were literally going to rot and decay.
They were dead, after all.
Nothing more.
It wasn’t like they were wearing that outfit to meet their maker.
They.
Weren’t.
It seemed like a shame to destroy her pretty things, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He had been patient, and now, he needed his prize.
HER.
Moving her legs, he got into position, and he enjoyed her body. She just laid there, but he knew that she would have enjoyed it had she been awake.
Or alive.
After all, he never had complaints.
EVER.
It didn’t take him long to get off, and when he filled her, his guttural moan could be heard over the chirping crickets, the wind in the trees, and the sounds of the night.
It was the best orgasm yet.
It never shocked him that they only got better.
Standing, he tucked himself away, and grabbed the machete that was sitting on the ledge of the grave.
“My sweet woman, we’ll be together forever now. I’ll make sure we’re never apart. From here on out, you’re going to be with me. It’ll just take a little prep to get you shelf ready.”
With a swing of his very sharp machete, he removed her head. He chopped until he could remove it from her body. The blade hacked into bone and flesh, jostling her whole being, and tearing into the satin pillow that was beneath her head.
It was messy, but it was necessary.
A collector had to collect.
A killer had to kill.
And he had to enjoy the fruits of his labor, because she was meant to belong to him.
Well, pieces of her.
As her head sat in his hands, he lovingly kissed her on the lips to seal their love with that sacred act. It was macabre, but it was who he was.
From a young age to now, some things never changed, and to be honest, he was tired of pretending.
This was his time to shine.
Tucking her hair into his hands, embalming fluid leaked down through the gaping wound from the machete. Yeah, this was messy, messy work.
“I’m sorry about ruining your pretty dress.
How about we cover you up, and we go home?
” he asked, not expecting an answer. “That way I can prepare you for your life in my collection. You’ll always be able to see me.
I’ll never be too far. I promise. You’ve been part of this plan for many, many years, my flower, and finally, it begins. ”
Oh, and he meant that.
His collection was so valuable since it was years of work. If he had to start over…
He’d.
Be.
Pissed.
Taking away his precious, precious things…
That would be silly.
And dangerous.
“Your mouth looks ever so luscious. Let’s see what we can do at home before I prepare you for my collection,” he offered, already knowing what he wanted.
Satisfaction.
And then, he placed her head on the side of the hole, and maneuvered so that he could close the casket, burying the evidence that anyone could use to find him.
His secret was tucked away, and no one would be any the wiser as to what he did.
From killing her.
To unburying her.
His secret was safe.
The best part was he was getting away with murder in the shadows, and no one, NO ONE, was any the wiser. Hopefully, one day, the one who could catch him would try.
Because that got him off, too.
He might just be the most prolific serial killer to be created, and the best part was it would take forever for someone to even know he was hunting.
He was the alpha predator, and women should be worried.
They were his target.
To hide his tracks, the arduous work of burying her body continued. He would, after all, make sure that her grave appeared to be untouched.
The dirt that had been disheveled on her burial, would look the same to anyone who came by.
Then, he would make sure she was prepped, and then safely placed where no one could get to her.
Because after all, she had a permanent space in his collection.
Tomorrow, he’d remove her skin, place her eyes, and enjoy looking at her.
But for tonight, The Grave Robber had struck again.
And they’d never know what had happened. He was too good at covering his trail.
They’d never catch him.
But there would be more.
There always were.
So.
Many.
More.
And he couldn’t wait.
Finally, he was coming out of the shadows, and practicing was done. It was time to lure in the one he wanted.
The prettiest one of them all.
* * * The Blackhawk Family * * *
Days Later
Holladay, UT
Just Outside Of
Salt Lake City
Same Location
Detective Tora Quinley was up to her eyeballs in stupid cases, and she didn’t think that was a coincidence either.
In fact, she was betting it was intentional.
Her boss was literally throwing the lamest shit at her, and she knew why.
He was a letch.
Oh, and he didn’t have a clue that harassing women to date them was wrong—apparently.
He hit on her, and she didn’t want anything to do with him because she was all about her job.
The second she did that, he began trying to be a dick as much as possible.
Someone didn’t take rejection well.
That was for sure.
So now, he’d punish her, and ruin her life.
God.
She hated cops.
Which was all kinds of ironic because she, herself, was one of them.
The irony wasn’t lost on her.
As for Tora, she hadn’t always had the dream of being a detective for a police precinct.
No, she had loftier dreams.
When she was younger, at the tender age of seventeen, she wanted to be an FBI agent, following in the footsteps of two men she truly admired.
That had been her goal.
Oh, and she’d fought hard to get it, too.
Until her dreams were crushed when she realized how goddamn difficult it was to get into the FBI.
It.
Was.
Almost.
Impossible.
You had to be super smart, recruited, or know someone to help get you in, and while she had the last part, it felt wrong to reach out just to use that leverage.
It seemed wrong to call them up out of the blue when it had been about fifteen years—even when she saw them in the media all the time.
So, she let that dream go, and instead was trying to forget about it.
Thus, why she was in this position.
Tora had become a cop in Salt Lake City and then worked the beat for a few years.
Then, she’d become a detective in Vice, working undercover to get her training in.
Finally, she’d interviewed and applied for the job in Holladay as a detective.
Oh, she thought she’d won the cop lottery, becoming a homicide detective, but over the last year, nothing good happened here.
By good, she meant exciting.
By good, she meant helpful to push her career along.
Oh, some lady had gotten hit by a car, and she’d investigated that.
Or there was the man who fell from the roof of a building, and by ‘fell’, she meant committed suicide.
It hadn’t even been a difficult case since he’d left a printed-out note at home on his computer.
Then, there was the woman who’d OD’d behind the local gathering place on the outskirts of Holladay as she played Meth roulette with a loaded syringe.
She’d worked them all, and she’d closed most of them, but what wouldn’t she give to have a juicy case?
An accidental death, or a suicide, wasn’t going to make her career.
Not.
At.
All.
Give her something juicy that she could sink her teeth into, along with her partner, and she’d be a happy, happy girl.
Like now, she was on her way to another homicide, and once more, she was being boned by the boss. She felt sorry for her male partner, who was being taken along on this pathetic ride.
He deserved a medal for this.
Really.
What was up to bat?
Well, this time, it was a shanked, unhoused person who had been squatting in a building at the outskirts of town.