Away From Mercy by Kate Bold

Author:Kate Bold [Bold, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kate Bold
Published: 2024-08-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

He’d done it.

The artist was a master of theatrics and an expert in timing. As he hurried out of the park, his head down, wearing a hooded jacket and shorts and running shoes, with a gym bag slung over his back, the killer felt an emotion that went beyond simple relief at rewriting the painful scene.

What he felt was more like a vicious glee.

This man was erased from the world, and as he’d stared down at him, allowing himself only a few precious moments to capture the scene in his mind, he’d found a sense of pure elation filling him.

He’d done more than wipe out the memories of hurt, replacing them with this calm, yet creepy still life. He’d created a sense of joy within himself that he hadn’t known existed.

“You did it,” he whispered.

The tools of his trade were in the gym bag, and he knew there was still a small risk that they would be discovered. Now, he needed to be careful and discreet. The taser he’d used to knock the man out was wrapped in a sweaty towel. The blade was now sheathed, after a hasty rinse in the lake – where he’d been very careful not to leave footprints. Luckily, this time of the year, the water was clear and the mud minimal. He’d been able to stand on the gravel, leaving no trace behind him, and now, the blade was wrapped in another towel. When he got home, he’d launder the towels, and he’d wash the blade, and he’d disinfect the taser.

It was the least these people deserved, after all. He might be taking their lives, but he felt he was doing so in a clean and clinical way. Nobody deserved to have a messy blade drawn across their throat. Perhaps it was a sign of his own forgiveness to them that he kept the blade so sharp and clean.

It proved he was a better person, even though they’d hurt him so badly, and he’d been forced to rewrite their life scenes in his mind.

Now, as he surveyed the area, the camera in his mind was inexorably capturing each moment. The lights of the cars in the distance – click. The outlines of a man and a woman, dressed in work clothes, hurrying along the sidewalk – click. The fleeting shape of a woman on the top floor of her house, closing the curtains – click. He’d remember all these forever. Forever.

It wouldn’t be long before the man was found. The window of time would be small. He could even predict who would find the man. Perhaps it would be the gray-haired woman who sometimes walked her dog late at night, although she didn't usually go as far as the woods. Perhaps it would be the other man, the one in bright clothing, who sometimes jogged in the evenings. He didn't often go out on a Monday, though. Mondays in this park were quiet.

If not one of those two, it would be someone else, so for now, he needed to get home.

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