Prologue

Though a single black rose ‘tis his kiss of death, for her it holds no power. For when she doth receive, ‘tis not a mere black rose but a bouquet thereof.

Teegan leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest as she contemplated the computer monitor through narrowed eyes. Something was different about the Black Rose blog. She had discovered it about a year ago when researching a story on him. Rumor had it he was a serial killer—a serial killer with an impressive online following. For a serial killer, he had mad computer skills, too; despite considerable effort by many people, no one had been able to identify the source of the blog, so Black Rose remained a mystery. Up until now, he had been viewed as a vigilante, purging the streets of Louisville, Kentucky, of the lowlife scum that lurked in the city’s darkest corners. People ate that shit up, too. After all, Black Rose had made the streets of Louisville a safer place.

Who doesn’t love a hero? Even if it is a dark one. Some of us are more than a little partial to a dark hero.

But something about the blog seemed different on this particular day. It was darker, almost as if a different person had written it. There was only one way to find out, so she decided to do something she’d never dared to do before. Before she could change her mind, she typed a message to the notorious Black Rose…or so she thought.

I’m writing to you in an effort to possibly interview you for a book I’m writing. I’m well aware your anonymity is of the utmost importance but I believe we could converse online and therefore ensure both of our identities aren’t jeopardized.

Before she could wimp out she clicked Send. She thought she probably should have added I’m not a serial killer groupie, but if the guy was going to think she was some nut case nothing was going to change it. All she could do was wait and see if he responded, even though it was more likely he or she would assume she was a cop or an informant. She hoped not. She really wanted to write this book with an unbiased look at what caused a person to become a killer.

From the time she was a child, she’d been intrigued by the criminal mind. She didn’t want to simply study the act of murder, she wanted to explore the darkest recesses of a killer’s mind. Most people would do anything to live their life oblivious to the heinous things that happened on the city streets after the sun went down. Those things happened to other people, those unfortunate souls who had been foolish or reckless enough to open the door of evil and invite a monster in.

It made members of polite society feel better to believe the victim had done something to cause the evil to come calling. Not exactly victim blaming, of course; just an expedient way to rationalize the conviction that it couldn’t happen to them. Teegan knew better. She had studied crime intensively. One of her favorite quotes was that of Barbara Ehrenreich: “In the city, crime is taken as emblematic of class and race. In the suburbs though it’s intimate and psychological; resistant to generalization; a mystery of the individual’s soul.”

Teegan knew that for every crime, location was important because with it either came a vibe of intimacy or was simply a case of a person being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Crimes of opportunity, the professionals called it. Those details were what drove her to dig into her research. What better way to research than to get inside the head of a killer? If she could bond with a killer and get him to open up to her, she would have insight that went way past statistics and delved into the inner workings of the criminal mind.

She should be afraid, but like a moth to a flame she was drawn to this Black Rose. In fact, she was more drawn to this new, darker side of the man. She wasn’t convinced it was the same person writing the blog now. Maybe Black Rose was dead and someone else had taken over the blog. The question was: had they taken over his legendary crime spree too? Or was there another crime groupie copycatting the kills and then writing about it because the blog provided so many followers? Statistics said copycat killers were easier to catch but what might that mean for Black Rose? Would he be blamed for killings he didn’t own? She felt a sudden, inexplicable need to protect the malevolent stranger.

Regardless of what she found out, she knew she had to get to the bottom of it. There was no place for fear. It was too late for that now. With a single flick of her hand, she had reached out to a coldblooded killer. That changed everything; he would know who she was now. He might not know her exactly, but if he wanted to find out who she was he now had the means to find out.

One thing the public knew about the deadly stranger was that he was likely rich and in a position of power, or he wouldn’t be able to so easily find out his victims’ secrets. It was common knowledge that once Black Rose set his sights on you, you were as good as dead. Teegan shivered. Would he set his sights on her now? Only time would tell.