Chapter One

Charles Wentworth looked over at his wife as they sat on their bed watching the evening news. After twenty years of marriage the love they shared was stronger than ever. Theirs was an unconventional love story, to say the least. He had basically forced her to marry him way back when, but she had eventually fallen in love with him. And his devotion to her knew no bounds. Looking at her exquisite profile now, he didn’t harbor a single doubt about her love or her loyalty. She belonged to him in every way, and he to her.

Charles had never meant for her to be pulled into his serial killing lifestyle, but the secret had become too hard to keep and, rather than allow it to come between them, he had included her in his killing sprees. She understood that his killings were the height of vigilantism. Her enthusiasm had surprised Charles. Looking back, he thought that perhaps her willingness to be involved was due to her determination to make the marriage work. Then again, perhaps Melanie had a dark side she never knew existed until she married her homicidal husband.

They had a son and although Charles wasn’t Thomas’ biological father, he was the only father Thomas had ever known. The bond between the two was closer than most fathers and sons. They had called him Tommy as a boy but the day had come when he looked up from the bowl of cereal he was eating and informed them he was no longer a baby and he wished to be called Thomas, so Thomas it was from that day on. His declaration had been so cute and a moment neither parent would ever forget. Their adorable Tommy had grown into ‘Thomas’: a skilled, handsome, natural born killer. He shared his father’s love for not only the kill but the hunt. He enjoyed watching people when they had no idea they were being observed. Stalking prey gave him the kind of power he craved. Thomas couldn’t care less about the kills being justifiable. He liked killing—period.

Charles nudged his wife when something caught his attention on the television. With a wave of his hand, he directed her attention to the reporter’s grim words:

Another body has been found. Like the other two, the remains were wrapped in layers of plastic wrap and gauze, giving it the appearance of a mummy. The police are saying that, with this being the third body found in the exact same manner as the two before it, it is reasonable to connect the three suspicious deaths. That means we have a serial killer on the loose. Although there are no suspects at this point, sources within Louisville’s police department are referring to the killer as Mummy Man.

Women are advised to use the buddy system and check in with a friend or family member when they leave to go somewhere and when they arrive at their destination. If you work late at night, they advise getting a security guard to walk you to your car. Lock your doors and windows and be aware of your surroundings.

“At first glance, you might think it was just some kinky fucker who’s gotten out of hand. But it could very well be a sick fuck trying to distract the police by incorporating a fetish into his M.O. Either way, that’s the last thing this city needs.”

“Those poor women. I can only imagine what they must have gone through. How terrifying.” Melanie’s face was ashen as she contemplated the victims’ grisly final moments.

The news report didn’t delve into the killer’s possible motives, but Charles and Melanie were well aware that wrapping victims in plastic wrap was one of the more intense fetishes in the kink community. This wasn’t just some guy trying to mummify his victims. In the world of kink, some people enjoyed being wrapped tightly by various means. They said it gave them a feeling of safety much like being back in the womb.

Some people were born wired differently. The Wentworth family understood that on a deep, intimate level.