58. STAGING

58

STAGING

THE STRANGLER

“ R est in fucking peace, Logan, if you can, you sick, motherfucking piece of shit.” I already knew Logan might mess this up. He was good at other things, like luring women with his charming smile and his eccentric attitude, but he was useless when it came to murder, and now he was dead.

I had no idea how I missed it… but I knew now. Ryden was the same as Yara. I was blindsided by that information, but… no, now I knew why he didn’t even blink when he watched her kill Logan.

It was an unexpected obstacle in my plans, but… I was still ahead of them.

When I knew Logan was gone, I had to act fast. Procuring a police siren wasn’t hard. I had to haul Logan’s body out from the marsh late at night, but I didn’t mind that. This was our game—mine and Yara’s. I loved playing with her, messing with her.

After staging Logan at the ME office—which was really easy, too—I drove Yara’s car back to my place. I would send it back to her soon.

The way she killed Logan… It was pure art. Perfection. I knew she thought it was me, but… I still loved her.

Her anger would go away once she realized how perfect we were for each other.

Logan thought he was in love with me… and well, it made it easier for me to use him the way I wanted. I set him up to take the fall, but the game wasn’t over yet. I took my other phone and switched it on.

Me: Oh, the game’s only beginning, Yara. I hope you are ready.

I waited for her reply, but she didn’t answer me. I knew what she was doing, but these silly tricks would not deter me.

“And then the detective. Men! They’re fucking trouble.”

I didn’t like to kill unnecessarily. It was such a fucking waste of my time. Detective Patel should have stopped digging.

He got so close to finding our truths. Yara’s truths. It would’ve spoilt everything.

I did it for you, Yara, as much as I did it for myself.

Rubbing my hands, I stared at the painted white walls of the funeral home, so in contrast to the stark nature of the surroundings. It looked lonely, big, lost among the wilderness. Desolate. The scent of death lingered around.

Enzo. What should I do with you?

I opened the hood, and the engine hummed softly as I studied the intricate connections. I reached for the fuel line. With a twist, I loosened the connection, just to allow a leak, before walking back to the fuel tank. I had already drained the fuel just enough.

Satisfied with my handiwork, I closed the hood with a soft thud. With a final glance at the car, I melted back into the trees.

It was time for the next step.

I jogged toward the funeral home. My heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and adrenaline as I walked toward the massive red door that was keeping what I wanted from me.

Did Yara think she could hide Irene from me?

Soon. I’d kill her just as I had killed her sister.

I’d kill anyone who dared to come between Yara and me. She knew that, and yet she was with Ryden. How stupid was she?!

Look at all the things I’m doing for you, Yara. But you’re ungrateful. I gritted my teeth with a scowl. I’ll teach you how not to be such an ungrateful bitch once you’re mine.

My hands trembled as I knocked on the door, relaxing my face into a look of nervousness and trepidation. Years and years of pretending and studying normal people made me adept with human emotions.

I’m good at this. Yara could have won this one, but I know the things she doesn’t.

“Enzo?” I whispered when he studied me with a frown. “Is this your…place? I—I didn’t expect to…”

“What are you doing here?” Enzo asked with a smile.

“My car broke down, and I… I didn’t know this was your place.”

“Of course,” he said, staring over my head. “Is that your car?”

“Yes, a piece of absolute shit,” I whispered, looking at my greasy hands. “I tried to bring it back to life.”

“Come on in.”

Wringing my hands together, I looked past him into the funeral home. He studied me for a few minutes and smiled at me.

“Don’t be nervous. There are no dead bodies inside. I promise.”

Like that would make me nervous! I scoffed.

“I don’t want to… this is such an inconvenience. If you can call me a tow truck…”

“And what will you be doing until the tow truck arrives? Standing right here? Come on in,” he said with a teasing grin, opening the door wider for me.

“Thank you, Enzo.”

“You’re welcome.”