2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ethan

How does one focus on the mundane, earthly matters after meeting a literal goddess?

I have no fucking clue.

I detour to the restroom and splash some water on my face, as if that would help calm my whirling thoughts. Those eyes. That hair. That body… Everything about her was so fucking perfect I'm not even sure she was real. Perhaps she wasn't. After all, I've never seen her here before. Perhaps I've finally lost my mind and started hallucinating.

Years ago, I swore that when the inevitable psychotic break arrived, I would end things. A serial killer with a strict set of rules can be beneficial to society. A serial killer who doesn't know what's right and wrong is a disaster waiting to happen. Innocent people will get hurt when I lose it, and that is something I can't allow.

Is it time to finally put the bullet through my head?

I do a quick mental recap.

Child molesters? Deserve to die terribly.

Innocent people? Deserve to live in peace.

It all checks out, doesn't it? So why am I hallucinating celestial beings? Because there's no way the girl who just ran into me was real. No fucking way. No one is this perfect. The way she pressed against me for that split second? Her scent, the warmth of her body? God, I'm getting a hard-on just from remembering it!

I will my wayward cock down. I'm meeting Director Smith in a few minutes and one simply doesn't walk into the office of the head of the Child Protection Services with an erection. I'll deal with my hallucinations later.

I double-check that the folder contains all the photos before knocking on Smith's door. Of course, I have all the data on a thumb drive, and I've already emailed Smith the most important files. Still, I like to keep a printed case file on me. There's something about holding the evidence in my hands that comforts me. Printed files can't be hacked and rewritten. Well, they can, but definitely not as easily as digital data. I should know, I hack systems all day long.

"Come in, Ethan," Director Smith invites me in. She's a determined woman in her forties who doesn't give a shit about anything other than helping children. I like her. So much so that when they tried to replace her with someone more pliable—and corruptible—a few years back, I dug up so much dirt on him that he's probably still in prison. Sorry, not sorry.

I give her a smile. "Victoria."

"Oh, please," she snorts. "Keep your smiles for the younger chicks who flock around you all the time."

"But Victoria, you know there's no one else in my heart but you!" I tease, like I always do. Until today, I've been telling the truth. Aside from occasionally relieving some of my less violent urges, women didn't interest me. Not until I met her. My goddess. My hallucination.

I'm definitely losing it.

Victoria rolls her eyes, then switches to a more serious tone. "I read your email. The evidence is brilliant, but will it stand in court? You know how Judge Hudson gets when we suggest the mother loses custody in favor of the father. If it's not rock solid, it won't pass by her."

"I know," I reply, suppressing a growl. People without psychopathic tendencies probably don't growl in public. "She'll have to accept this evidence. Everything was acquired legally. I even got a notary to verify the signed witness statements. It's solid, Victoria. That bitch is never touching her son again."

My hands clench involuntarily as I remember what the poor boy had to endure at the hands of the person who was supposed to love him the most. I wish I could remove her from his life permanently, but they live in Bluebell Springs. I have many rules when it comes to choosing my targets, but "never kill where you live" is the most important one. That's why I always pick my targets in different states. When it comes to helping the Bluebell Springs CPS department, I stick to legal means. Mostly.

"Let's hope so." Victoria sighs. "He's already been through enough." She studies my expression but doesn't ask the one question that's been bugging her ever since I first offered to help her all those years ago. Have I been abused myself?

If she asked, I'd tell her my parents were the most wonderful people in the world and that they wouldn't hurt a fly. That it wasn't me who suffered from abuse so brutal it forced them to take their own life at the ripe age of eleven. But Victoria is professional enough to never ask. It's for the best, anyway. The fewer people who know about the real me, the better.

When I moved to Bluebell Springs, I adopted the guise of a friendly, kindhearted neighbor. The man no one would ever suspect of anything illegal, the least of all being a serial killer. If the FBI ever comes snooping around Bluebell Springs, asking about a serial killer living there, nobody will think to mention my name.

My good neighbor disguise is a failsafe, one I hope I'll never have to use. I'm being careful, not leaving any trails for the feds to follow. I don't leave evidence behind. No bodies, no clues. There's no collection of teeth or hair in my bedside drawer. Some people just go missing, never to be heard from again. That happens all the time.

Of course, to be on the safe side, I've hacked into the FBI system and set up procedures to alert me if they ever start looking into any of my victim's disappearances. So far, it hasn't reported anything.

Forcing myself back to the present, I eye the pile of folders on Victoria's desk. "So many new cases?"

The department is severely understaffed, but sadly, that's not something I can help them with. I have psychopathic tendencies and solve problems by killing people. I'm pretty sure those are terrible traits for a social worker.

"Some," Victoria replies. "Some are just old cases getting reassigned. We finally got a new social worker. She transferred from the Kansas City office."

That catches my attention. She? Perhaps the goddess I just ran into wasn't a hallucination? "From a big city to Bluebell Springs?" Who does that?

"We offered a ton of benefits, including her own house," Victoria explains. "And I get the feeling she was looking for a fresh start. Our town is the perfect place for that, wouldn't you say?"

"Mmm," I hum noncommittally, not taking her bait. I'm not about to talk about my past. "Did you vet her?" Some social workers are in the field just to get easy access to children for nefarious purposes. Usually, they tend to be men, but one can never be too careful.

Victoria rolls her eyes. "Of course I did. She has great references and her former boss was reluctant to let her go. He said that Kayla Reynolds was one of the greatest assets of his department."

Kayla Reynolds. The goddess has a name. And apparently, she's perfect.

She can't be perfect. I need to dig into her past and find a flaw. That will help me stop obsessing about her. But I can't keep questioning Victoria. "Well, I hope it works out well," I tell her instead, pretending like I don't care about Kayla Reynolds at all. "Do you have any other cases for me?"

Victoria frowns at a folder, but she doesn't hand it over. "Not at the moment. I might have something later, but I want my people on it first. Hopefully, it's just false accusations."

From the way her expression hardens, I can tell she doesn't believe it. But unless she requests my help, I'll stay out of it. Bluebell Springs is too small of a town for people to suddenly start disappearing. "Just reach out when you need me, Victoria. You know I'm always ready to help."

She gives my hand a firm shake, guiding me to the door. "You're a good man, Ethan," she says as I leave. "I'm grateful for your help. And…whatever happened to you in the past is long gone. Let yourself be happy."

Now it's my turn to roll my eyes. "Nothing happened to me, Victoria," I mutter, then make my way out of the department. I don't add the "and I'm not a good man" that's on the tip of my tongue, even though it's true.

I'm not a good man. There's a monster inside of me that craves death and destruction. I do my best to keep it on a leash and only let it loose to hunt other monsters, but every time I do, I risk someone innocent getting hurt.

The monster in question stirs, hungry. I'll need to let it out soon, unless I want it to consume the last shreds of my sanity. I have my next target lined up. All I need now is to recheck the evidence and then wait for the perfect opportunity to strike. Until then, I have a goddess to stalk.