Chapter 10
Eric slouched on his couch with a plate of pizza and a bottle of beer. He cursed as the movie went off and the news revealed another dead body. This one was only a few blocks from where he’d patrolled. Officer McGill listened to the report intently but all that was said was that a young woman had been murdered and police were on the scene.
“Dammit. People are dropping like flies. I should be on this case.”
He picked up his phone and called Officer Lee.
“Hey, it’s McGill. Are you at the station?”
“Yeah. Our shift ended an hour ago, but we still have some paperwork. What’s up, Eric?” Lee replied.
“Do you know anything about the body over at the construction site? All the news is saying is a young woman was killed.”
“Sorry, I don’t know much; just what I’ve overheard. Apparently, the victim was a pro, and they think it was the same killer as those other two.”
McGill could hear papers shuffling and someone yawning.
“So, it’s the same M.O.?” Eric asked.
“Not exactly. None of them have a specific signature. Detective Glass says the forensics linked the murders because it’s the same knife. Could be a vengeance thing or a budding serial killer trying stuff out. Profilers are coming in the morning.”
“They all say the same thing when it’s a serial killer: white male, loner, quiet, probably bad with women, etcetera, etcetera.” McGill scoffed.
“Well that’s usually who it is, Eric. I’ll call you if I hear anything else, but I’ve got to get this report in and catch some rest. Besides, you know you can’t work the case; IA hasn’t cleared you in writing yet.”
“Yeah yeah, I know. Thanks for the update, Lee. See you tomorrow.”
“As long as you bring the coffee.”
“Deal.”
***
Jenny bit into her sandwich. Juice dribbled down the side of her mouth. She wiped her face and looked around the break room. Posters about company policies and customer service covered the drab gray walls. The killer washed her meal down with a swig of coke and ignored the brightly colored images.
Jenny made small talk with a handful of coworkers before her allotted rest was ended. She made sure to say hello to Bailey. The bagboy was sweet as fresh syrup and about as quick. Jenny was always proud that her company not just hired folks with disabilities but treated them well.
“Hi Jenny. Are you going home?” Bailey asked.
“No, Bailey. I’m closing tonight with you. I’m just going back to my register.”
“I’m closing too. My dad brought my lunch for me.”
“It looks good. Make sure you eat it all so you can have lots of energy to keep working hard.” Jenny said smiling.
“I will. I’m a good bagger.”
“You sure are.”
Jenny exited feeling happier. She’d had a good kill last night and her workday was going smooth. Bailey always perked her up; he was just too sweet not to like. Martin on the other hand took pleasure in harassing half of the staff and insulting the other half.
The snobby man set his hand basket of groceries on the belt and began to ogle the cashier. Jenny turned on her light at the register next to the pretty girl and ignored Martin. The killer did her best not to hear the thirty-five-year-old prick through the beeps.
“You’re a pretty young thing. We should have drinks together.” Martin said as he leaned over the counter.
“That’s very nice of you, sir, but I’m engaged.” The cashier responded.
“So,” He reached out to brush the hair from her face. “...engaged means you’re still in play. How about you and I play a little?”
The cashier politely pushed away his hand and ignored the comment.
“That will be $24.59. Will you be paying by cash or credit, sir?”
“Hard to get, huh?” Martin swiped his bank card before leering at the nineteen-year-old. “I guess we both enjoy it when things are hard. See you later, girly.”
The jerk blew the cashier a kiss and snatched his bags from the elderly bagger. As he walked away, Jenny wondered how hard it would be to subdue him. She squelched the thought but kept the mental picture of his face nailed to a dartboard.
It wouldn’t be wise to hunt anyone who could be tied back to her. Even when they deserved to suffer, Jenny knew she had to be smart about her hobby. That was why she’d started to kill: because she knew she was smart enough to get away with it and she was bored.
Jenny gave the other cashier a friendly smile. The rest of the night passed in a blur of the usual routine. The constant beeping of the register scanning items, double-checking prices in the sales circular, getting managers to deal with upset customers who presented expired coupons, and maintaining a facade of pleasantry. The murderer hated every minute of it.
She got through the shift by thinking about her successful kills and thinking about her next one. She always chose someone based on convenience and general level of douchebaggery. She would need a new location, however.
Jenny reminisced about the last hunt; she loved how well the bleeding had gone. It was so much more satisfying to take her time. She knew that was the way to do things from now on. Bleed her victims slow like animals at the slaughterhouse. Her false smile became true as Jenny did her cleaning and clocked out. She had a great idea.