Chapter Twenty Four

He drove with caution, paying close attention to his speed and proper use of turn signals, and ensuring he didn’t bounce her around too much. He always felt a certain tenderness at moments like this. She belonged to him now and he needed to protect her…until it was time for her to die. He wasn’t a sadist by any means. It was all about control for him; the thrill of holding a life in his hands.

This time he had more than one reason for killing. It wasn’t just his usual itch. He wanted to send a message to a few people. It was time to stir things up.

As if reading his mind, his sweet little Goldie moaned and moved just enough to let him know he hadn’t drugged her excessively. He’d done that to one of the first women he killed and he’d been so let down when she overdosed and he hadn’t been able to play with her. The newspaper had written it up as an overdose, even after her parents insisted to the press that their daughter didn’t do drugs. It was always easy to believe the worst. It was just how humans were hardwired, to let someone else’s dysfunction make us feel better about ourselves.

“We’re almost there, sleepyhead.” He turned down a bumpy dirt road. It was a secluded strip of land he’d bought for the purpose of building his underground bunker. He couldn’t take a chance on going back to his house right away, not after he’d trashed Teegan’s. That rich son of a bitch she was with now might have the ability to figure out who he was. Also, out here he had all the privacy he needed. Sometimes he liked to hear their screams without worrying about attracting unwanted attention or risking any interruptions. He liked to hear them begging for mercy before he finally killed them.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. We’re here,” he said merrily as he opened the back of the van. She didn’t move but moaned softly and frowned. He pulled her out by her ankles, enjoying the sight of her head banging on the edge of the van’s back entrance before she hit the hard ground with a sickening thud. A grunt was all he got so, somewhat disappointed, he continued pulling her by her ankles toward the entrance to the underground bunker. Her head bounced along on the ground. The rhythmic sound soothed his soul. Thump. Thump. Thump. One last thump when he dropped her feet to unlock the hidden door in the ground.

“C’mon, gorgeous,” he muttered as he dragged her down the rickety wooden stairs. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. At the bottom of the stairs, she finally reached the room that would be her new home until the day of her death. With her lying in a heap on the floor, he sat on the edge of the cot, taking what he considered to be a well-deserved break to catch his breath. He leaned his head back and laughed. Yeah, it was an unexpected drawback of abducting a drag queen: they could be kind of heavy.

By the time he had secured her wrists at the end of a chain that hung from the ceiling, he was bone tired. He was going to have to rest. It would be better to catch a little nap first so he could be fully present and enjoy everything he was going to do to her.

He trudged up the steps and turned off the light that hung from the ceiling, snuffing out its eerie yellow glow. When she woke up she wouldn’t be able to see a thing, but she’d know she was at the mercy of a very sick man.