Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

I ran through the woods, desperate to get away.

They weren’t supposed to be there.

I’d gone into the cabin only to do one thing, and they’d almost ruined that.

Thankfully, I’d gotten what I came for.

But they were going to regret sticking their noses into this.

I would make sure of that.

I jumped onto a snow machine I had stashed out of sight. They’d never catch me now.

I didn’t like to play games. Games were for amateurs. Games were for people who didn’t want to be taken seriously. And I most certainly wanted to be taken seriously.

No games for me. Instead, I gave warnings.

I tried not to follow anything being reported on the news about me. There was no need.

I’d been listening to some of my favorite true crime podcasts while I showered every morning. They were my guilty pleasure.

I’d stumbled upon The Round Table podcast not long ago. I was particularly interested in it because the investigators took on cases from Alaska.

A surprising amount of crime happened in this state, which was actually the third least populated of all the states, despite its vast amount of land.

Then I’d heard a preview of one of their upcoming cases.

It would focus on the December Dismemberer.

Why in the world had the media chosen such a stupid moniker for me? How would anyone ever take me seriously with a name like that?

They had no idea the depth of my anger. Reports made me sound as if I were a villain on Scooby-Doo or something. Those characters were cardboard cutouts! Pathetic! I was the real deal, someone to be feared.

I would not be mocked.

Hatred for the media made my blood boil.

In reality, there were very few people I didn’t hate. However, I couldn’t let that show. Most people thought of me as being rather affable, and I wanted to keep it that way. Facades were essential in my line of work.

My line of work being a serial killer, something most people couldn’t say.

I smiled at the thought. I’d never set out to do this. But I didn’t realize murder could bring me so much satisfaction.

Until I tried it.

Soon, I’d strike again.

I pulled off the trail, ready for a break. I was safe and secure here. They’d never catch me. I was so much smarter than they were.

Then I reached into my pocket and pulled out a picture.

The picture of my next victim.

Yes, I’d already picked out the perfect one.

My blood raced. I could hardly wait.

However, what if these podcasters messed things up? I couldn’t let that happen. I needed to deter them.

If anyone could find answers, it would be these guys. These amateurs had been on a streak of good luck, and that bothered me. I needed to end the streak. I’d remained hidden in plain sight all these years. I needed to stay that way.

I couldn’t let these pitiful hobbyists ruin my plan.

But now I wondered if I should change course. Too many unexpected things had happened, making my plans riskier.

No, I decided. I wouldn’t do that. I’d stick to my original plan—with some modifications.

I’d simply add a new plan on top of the old one. A plan to stop them from whatever they were thinking about doing.

These silly podcasters had no idea what they’d unleashed when they’d announced their next investigation. I didn’t like it when people cramped my style.

But I’d figure this out. One way or another, I would stop them.

Those Round Table fools were going to regret the day they ever murmured the words, “December Dismemberer.”

My next victim was practically dead already.