He grinned at me. “Things always seem to work out for me.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Yeah, you’re just so lucky.”
He tossed me the camera and started the engine. “Come on. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
The sun was almost down. “Okay. Sounds good.”
We drove off, heading back toward the office. My pussy still throbbed from him and my head was buzzing, a pleasant, comfortable feeling.
We’d gotten the pictures. And more importantly, I had finally felt his cock deep inside me.
As we kept driving, I was already imagining what it would feel like getting fucked by his strong body again and again, sweating deep into the night.
14
Easton
My head was still buzzing from Laney’s sweet cunt as we walked into my office apartment.
She was oddly quiet on the drive back, almost as if my cock had finally satisfied her curiosity. I kept thinking about her full tits in my face, her hips slamming down onto my cock, the tight grip of her pussy wrapped around me, and coming deep inside her, our eyes locked together.
It was almost enough to get me fucking hard again.
“Got to develop these,” I said to her.
“Sure. I’ll be here.” She sat down at the desk, rearranging the messy surface.
I walked toward the bathroom, but a vibrating in my pocket drew me up short. I pulled out my cell and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Easton? This is Sheriff Sloan.”
Ah fuck, I thought. Can’t the world let me feel fucking okay for ten fucking minutes?
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
“We have another body.”
I felt a stab of adrenaline. I leaned up against the doorjamb, speaking more softly.
“That’s fast.”
“We found her today. I think she’s only been dead for twelve hours at most.”
“Where are you?”
“I’ll text you the location.”
“Got it.” I hung up the phone and walked back into the main room.
Laney looked up. “Everything okay?”
“Do you know how to use a gun?”
She stared at me for a second and then smiled uncertainly. “You point and shoot, right?”
“Seriously.”
She shook her head. “No. What’s wrong?”
I unlocked a drawer at the bottom of the cabinet and pulled out my old service revolver. I flipped open the chamber and made sure it was loaded, and then I flipped it back.
“No safety. You just point and shoot. Pull the trigger slowly and breathe. Don’t panic.”
Laney looked concerned now as I walked over and placed the gun on the desk in front of her.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Laney. I have to go meet Sheriff Sloan. I want you to lock the door behind me and wait here.”
“Was there another murder?”
I nodded gravely. “I don’t have time to drop you off. So please, stay here. Don’t open the door for anyone but me under any circumstances.” I paused and looked down at my weapon. “Shoot to kill if you have to.”
Her eyes were wide. “Easton, let me come with you.”
“No. It’s not safe for you.”
“I can help.”
“Laney,” I said, more forcefully than I’d meant to. “There’s a killer on the loose. I need to know you’re safe.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay. Fine.”
“Call if you need anything.” I walked into my back room and reached under my mattress, grabbing my own pistol. I checked the clip, shoved it into a holster, and shoved the holster into my pants.
“Be careful,” Laney said as I left.
“You too.” I shut the door behind me and headed down the steps, all thoughts of Laney’s body banished from my mind.
“Are you ready to see this?” Sloan asked me.
We were ten minutes outside town. It was a small wooded area not five minutes from a small subdivision of houses. Whoever put the body in this area had huge hulking balls, because he’d been within easy sight of anyone.
“Show me.”
Sloan nodded and we headed through the police tape. Up ahead, I saw the body propped against a tree, just like the last one.
As I got closer, I began to use my analytically-trained mind to understand what I was seeing. The girl was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen, and Hispanic. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on why exactly.
Like all the other killings, her hands were mutilated and her fingers were removed. Like the new killings only, her hands were placed gently in her lap. She was fully clothed, which meant I wasn’t sure if she had been sexually assaulted or not. The girl was younger than the victims normally were, and whoever did the killing may not have been able to rape a minor.
Good for him. I doubted it mattered in the long run whether the sick fuck could get it up or not.
Finally, the strangest part of the whole scene: Nailed above the girl’s head was a wooden board with the word “TON” carved into it.
“What do you think?” Sloan asked me.
“Odd,” I said, distracted. I walked around the tree again slowly, being careful of where I stepped, looking for any evidence. A single boot print had been marked out, but it was faint. Otherwise, the scene was clean, as usual.
“Some differences,” I said. “Her hands are folded gently, like the killer cared. Normally she’s left splayed open, or just tossed on the ground. The sign is also new.”
“Any clue what it means?”
“No. Not right now.”
“Tech says they don’t think she was raped.”
I nodded. “I heard him say that. Another oddity.”
“Maybe he’s not into young girls.”
“Good for him.”
Sloan grunted. “I’ll let you look around. We set up over there in the east.” He pointed back the way we’d come.
I followed his gaze and then stopped. It hit me suddenly like a ton of bricks. I’d had this feeling before in the past; it always happened when a big break suddenly happened.
Sloan walked off back toward camp. He had said something, but I hadn’t heard. I was too busy staring at that sign.
“TON,” etched clearly into the wood.
The girl was facing east.
“’EAST-TON.’”
I shook my head. It couldn’t be; it was just so improbable. But nothing about this killer made sense, and nothing about what he did was meaningless. He was breaking all the rules, and now suddenly he was sending me a personal message.
He wanted me to know that he’d been thinking about me when he had killed this girl.
I walked back toward camp almost in a haze. Ahead I saw a small group of techs photographing something on the ground.
“The girl,” I said. They all looked up. “Who is she?”
The one guy looked at the other. He flipped open his clipboard. “I.D. just came back, actually. Luisa Suarez, age sixteen. Local girl.”
I stumbled back toward the body in a haze, not saying anything else. I could barely think, barely breath. I stopped in front of her and knelt down, staring into her face.