Chapter Four
Noelle
Who is this guy? Now that he’s moved around my apartment into a different light I can see him clearer.
I already knew he was tall with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Now I can see his glasses and facial hair that’s the same length as the hair on his head: short and cut close to the skin.
It shows off the tattoo he has running down the side of his neck.
Since he’s wearing black to cover every other inch of his body, I can’t tell if he has any other tattoos.
Surely if he has a neck tattoo he probably has more somewhere on his–
Wait. I should not be thinking about where else he has tattoos. He just admitted he killed someone. This dry spell must be getting to me. Focus, Noelle. Don’t let your vagina think for you.
I don’t need confirmation to know who this guy is. He practically admitted it when he said he left the heart upstairs.
The Serial Killer Santa has been claiming three victims every Christmas for the last five years.
The method of killing always varies based on the situation, but his calling card is the removal of the victim’s heart.
But no one knows why or how he chooses his victims. The cops have found little clues about his identity over the years, but it’s hard to track someone who only kills one month out of the year and then goes dormant for the other eleven months.
Christmas in Detroit has been rather bleak since he started killing.
No one looks forward to this time of year when they know it means three more people are going to die.
And now that very serial killer is standing in my living room.
I’ve been obsessed with this guy for five years.
Five freaking years of watching the news every December, analyzing his victims, and bouncing ideas off other true crime enthusiasts in the forums. I’ve been determined to learn who he is for some time now.
Not because I want the bragging rights of uncovering his identity.
No. I want to thank him for killing my ex-boyfriend.