The Bones of Others
Page 31
He knew she kept a vibrator in her nightstand, the one on the left hand side of the bed. He knew which store she’d purchased her last pair of underwear from.
It excited him that he could come and go as he liked. He touched the ring he carried inside the pocket of his hoodie, the ring he’d taken from her jewelry box, some dime store trinket he’d known when he took it that she’d never miss. The ring kept him focused, had for a week. Not that he needed incentive or purpose to think of what he wanted to do to Carrie. But the ring was a reminder that he could come and go in her things, get inside the place where she should’ve been the safest whenever he needed or wanted.
Standing under the light from a street lamp, he watched as Carrie’s bedroom light went out right on schedule. Ten-thirty. He shook his head. One thing about Carrie, she was dependable. He walked to the end of the block, sliding into the shadows of the alley behind her co-op. When he reached the six-foot fence, he took the time to stretch on a pair of gloves. He had help vaulting over the barrier by using crates he’d had the forethought to stack along the alleyway beforehand.
Once in the backyard, he took out his penlight. He went over to the little outdoor shed Carrie used as a greenhouse, found the metal pipe he’d spotted there a week earlier. He hefted the weight onto his shoulder—and stepped to the sliding glass door. He didn’t need the tool to break the glass. Only amateurs made too much noise. And he was no novice at B & E or killing. No, he had another use in mind for the heavy rod. From the inside of his pocket, he took out his mask, pulled it down over his head. He pulled out his picklock and went to work on the door he’d already breached once before.
Inside the living room, he scanned the area using his penlight even though he had familiarized himself with the location of the sofa, the coffee table, the bookcase, which wall held the flat-screen television, which side the fireplace was on. But knowing the layout made it easier for him to make his way to the staircase in short order. He managed to avoid the steps that creaked along the way up and kept to the path that worked.
When he stepped into Carrie Bennington’s bedroom and stood over her sleeping form, he paused long enough to appreciate her golden hair, her soft skin, her long neck. By the time he placed his hand over her mouth it was too late. He thrilled at the terror he saw reflected in her green eyes. Not only that, but it excited him to know his face would be the last one she’d ever see.
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The Bones of Others
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Vickie McKeehan is the author of nine novels and makes her home in Southern California, next to the ocean she loves.
Visit with Vickie at
https://www.facebook.com/VickieMcKeehan
http://www.vickiemckeehan.com/