Sobs. Pleas. But when the moment of understanding came, and she realized she wouldn’t get away, that death was eminent, a wonderful thrill ran through him. That was his favorite part. He savored her whimper of defeat, her mumbled prayer to a God she’d probably never believed in. She’d given up fighting, just lay there in the flicker of orange-yellow light overhead. Her blood painted the blade of his knife, sprayed over her belly, snaked onto the floor. He hovered over her, watched, as she blinked slowly and the light in her eyes died. She went slack and glassy, chest ceased rising with breath. He stepped back, set down the knife on the bloody table to his right, then dragged over thick, crackling plastic sheets to wrap her in. This time she was mostly clothed but he left her that way. Let them find her like that, let them put together a timeline, realize how long she’d been missing. His gloved hands worked swiftly, expertly, as he rolled her in the plastic and tore off a piece of duct tape to keep everything together.
