by Copper Smith
“So now what? Now your creation’s gone, locked away for life, no chance of parole.”
“Guess I’ll just have to go create another one then, won’t I?”
Then Legato heard nothing.
Before calling the station, he had himself a good laugh at Andy’s expense. Poor bastard was a lump of clay in her hands, just waiting to be molded into something sinister. All she needed from him was to do the killings and plant the knife, but the idiot even botched that, forgetting to sharpen it and letting it get found by the wrong guy.
Then Legato laughed at himself for a while, reflecting on his helper’s disguise. Cicely Russo? Bullshit. That girl was no Italian – no Greek either. But she wanted to be. Greek like the sirens, those mythological creatures that lured men out to their demise in the sea.
Without much information to pass on, the call didn’t take long. The guy he talked to assured him they’d nail her before she could cause more mischief, but he didn’t sound convinced of it himself. Too many places to run to with the head start she’d gotten.
For the moment it seemed like a good time to get some sleep, but Legato just couldn’t with the night this quiet.
THE END
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Nobody recognized the lady in the glasses. But they paid her no mind as she slipped into the clinic, past the security desk and through the hallway. Probably visiting somebody, they all must have figured. Or maybe she worked there or something. Whatever. They didn’t really see her, didn’t notice that mischievous glow in her eyes. The one that would have alerted them to the coming danger.
She crept through the hallways, marveling at the cleanliness. Bright carpets, desks you could eat off of. Could this really be a drug rehab clinic? A place for monsters addicted to meth or heroin? A place where dangerous men and women went when prison couldn’t help them.
The thought warmed her face with a naughty librarian’s sneer. She imagined the fun she could create with some strung-out druggie who’d do anything to please a pretty girl from the Midwest. An old-fashioned girl who your mother would love because she couldn’t see past that wholesome grin.
She poked her head inside a room, spotting rows of people – normal looking people – reciting some tedious rehab mantra like obedient office workers. But who knew what secrets they buried under those compliant faces?
After a glance at her watch, she ducked back into the hallway. There’d be plenty of time to try a new game with a new friend. But for now it was time to focus on the game she’d already set in motion. She could see Legato’s van in the parking lot. Maybe he’d get roped into the homicidal madness or maybe he wouldn’t.
Either way, this was going to be fun.
As the lady walked past the hallway and to the cafeteria a guard called from behind. “Excuse me? Lady?”
But she was gone by then, floating away like a vengeful memory, the seeds of joyful destruction already planted.
