42. NEXT GIFT

42

NEXT GIFT

THE STRANGLER

T he woman behind the counter gave me a sweet smile. She was beautiful. “Here’s your order. Thank you for visiting Hot Cuppa.” There was a light in her eyes that wasn’t corrupted by darkness. Pure, angelic.

She would make a perfect second gift.

“Thank you so much,” I said, returning her smile. Today was such a glorious day. I had sent my first gift to Yara, but I wasn’t done yet.

I walked out with my coffee and took a seat on the wrought iron chair I had seen Yara sitting on one too many times. For someone so chaotic, she sometimes had her own rituals.

I watched as people moved in and out of the coffee shop. Everything was coated with the scent of coffee beans and useless chatter. I loved the scent of coffee beans but hated the human voices.

When I walked away, my mind was made up. Yara would soon understand that I meant business. This wasn’t a game. This was never a game to me. This was the most important thing in my life.

Why can’t you see it, Yara? You’re mine. Soon you will see that no one can love you better than me.

I picked up my other phone—the one I texted Yara with was a burner—and dialed the number with a frown.

“What is it?”

“I chose the next one. The barista from Hot Cuppa. She’s perfect. I love how beautiful her smile is. Can you get everything ready?”

“Another? You already killed… you can’t kill so soon after Daphne.”

“I don’t fucking care about any of that. As long as I get what I want… I’ll kill as many women as I want. It IS a fucking special occasion.”

“But…”

I couldn’t listen anymore. I hung up.