Femme Fatale (Black Rose Book 2) (12 page)

Charles

Looking at the picture of the woman on my blog is bothering me for a few reasons. First and foremost, I hate the fact that she had been subjected to these animals. Second, the killer is openly making a threat to kill someone else because he is angry with me for calling him out. Third, I don’t like the idea that he came onto my turf and posted the vile picture. In a sense, I am responsible for making sure those who follow my page aren’t subjected to the heinous reality of my work. I know they glorify
Black Rose.
I am doing what others have always wanted to do but can’t or won’t because of social circumstances. The ugly truth is that as much as my readers believe in the concept of what I’m doing, they have glamorized it. The public likes the idea of being avenged. They like the idea of someone else being willing to do the dirty work. People don’t sit around looking at crime scene photos, taking in the ugliness of the world I live in, and I don’t want to be the one to subject them to it. Richard Roundtree came onto my turf and made that decision for them. He fucked up when he did that. I’m pissed. He crossed a line, and he’s going to find out I’m not the kind of man you want for an enemy. As odd as it may seem, I care about my readers, and I have a very protective streak concerning anything that involves them. My enemy would have been better off coming against me head on than to cross the line of fucking with my followers. If he wants to do that to people, then he can go start his own blog. I have no intention of letting him defile mine and get away with it. Call me territorial and controlling, but that is just how it is. At least, that’s how it is in my world.

I toss around the options I have and decide the best thing I can do is take the post down and not give the son of a bitch a platform to use to get the attention he’s craving. I push away any guilt I feel about his next kill being my fault. Regardless of whether I pissed him off or not, he’s going to continue killing until somebody stops him.

I know enough about the psychology of men like Richard Roundtree to know that ignoring him, after I have reeled him in, is not only going to confuse him, it’s going to turn him into a petulant child who will throw a temper tantrum to get a reaction. I have succeeded in what I wanted to do, and that is getting under his skin and knocking him off balance. He’s going to do anything to get my attention again, and it’s going to cause him to make a mistake. I’ll be there when he does.

Let the games begin…

Melanie

“We’ve got problems, major ones.”

I watch my husband’s eyes as I make my way into his office, and it’s like he can read every one of my thoughts. Even at the threat of death, he has a way of making me feel like he can
fix it.
I hope, for the sake of the woman who has been abducted, that he can.

“Another woman has gone missing,” he answers.

How does he always do that? It isn’t a question; it’s a statement. Somehow, he knows what’s happened. For years, I’ve known my husband has the ability to predict the moves of men with criminal minds. He thinks like a killer, and it will take someone who can read the thoughts of a madman to save this woman. I feel so sorry for her. She has become nothing more than a pawn in a serial killer’s sick battle of wits. The only reason he took this woman was to challenge my husband. This is just a game to Richard Roundtree, and anyone who gets in his way is in danger of becoming a victim in his sick, sadistic scheme to outwit my husband.

His voice interrupts my thoughts.

“How did you find out?”

“Evelyn called me and said one of our nurses hasn’t made it in.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s in trouble or missing.”

“I believe it does, Charles. You have to know the mind of a nurse. We aren’t late, and we show up when we’re supposed to be at work.”

His laughter softens my serious state of mind.

“You’re late all the time.”

“I’m not the norm, Charles.” I roll my eyes at him.

“I’m well aware of that; it’s why I chose you and made you mine. Has Evelyn been by the woman’s house?”

“Yes, and nothing seems out of order.”

“According to Evelyn.”

I watch as he gets up and grabs his suit coat. He winks and walks out of the office with me trailing after him. I don’t need him to tell me what he’s doing. He’s going to the nurse’s home to find what Evelyn missed, and I am going with him. I don’t just want to work with a serial killer; I want to learn how to think like one.

Charles

I pull out a pair of gloves from my pocket and hand them to my wife.

“I won’t ever assume you know anything because even the smallest of details must be addressed. Even things that seem trivial, if overlooked, can mean prosecution or death. There is no room for error. Do you know why I’m here?”

I look around the secluded area where the nurse’s home is located.

“I assume you’re here to look for any evidence of where the nurse could have gone the day she went missing?”

“Exactly… Evelyn would just look for disturbances, like if the house had been broken into or ransacked.”

The house is located on a quiet street and has the appearance of a quaint cottage. The greenery growing like a canopy leading up to the large wooden door will serve well as camouflage to hide us from any curious onlookers or nosey neighbors. I have made certain we’re wearing latex gloves that will not hinder our dexterity during our search for clues. They will also allow me the nimbleness needed to pick the lock with the kit I’m carrying in my back pocket.

My wife instinctively serves as a lookout while I work at the lock, and after a few seconds, we’re able to gain entry. I’m grateful there isn’t an alarm on the house. I assume she feels safe enough in this quiet neighborhood to not see the necessity.

A small, round, wooden table sits to the left of the door where her mail has been laid, and there’s a small bowl where I assume she deposits her keys at the end of a long shift at the hospital. I sift through the mail and don’t note anything that raises a red flag. There are just bills and the normal pizza flyers.

We quietly move into the living area that sits just off to the left of the entryway. Everything is in its place, and there’s no sign of any disturbances. She couldn’t have been taken from here because there’s no sign of any struggle.

I grab my wife’s arm and lead her into the kitchen, searching for the phone and answering machine. Perhaps that will give us some clue of where she was or how she had been taken. Seeing one, I walk toward it and push the button. A woman’s voice comes over the speaker, confirming a dental appointment, and then there’s a call from a friend about a lunch date. It’s the third message that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. It’s a message confirming a reservation to one of Richard Roundtree’s seminars.

Even though, somewhere deep inside, I had suspected Richard had taken her, this confirms it in my mind. She had walked right into the enemy’s lair, and she did it without any suspicion that her life could be in danger. All it would have taken is one conversation about her job at the hospital, and he would have seen his chance.

I know he doesn’t know my wife works there… yet, but I know he feels a connection to the hospital because of Evelyn and the patient he attempted to kill. He has enough sense to know Evelyn’s talking to someone about him because he found his way to my blog. I suspect she follows it since it was
Black Rose
that killed her fiancé. Now, I’m wondering if she hates the man who killed her lover, AKA me. Suddenly, an idea hits me, and I turn to speak to my wife.

“Call Evelyn and see if she follows the
Black Rose
blog. Ask her in a roundabout way. Put it on speaker so I can hear her too.”

She quickly dials Evelyn, and I listen as she talks to her.

“Evelyn, this might sound like an odd question, but are you on social media a lot?”

“As much as anyone else. You know, just the normal sites.”

“What about blogs?”

“Well, I hate to admit it, but I follow
Black Rose
. I have ever since finding out my fiancé was a serial killer. I guess I kind of feel like
Black Rose
rescued me from marrying that terrible man. In fact, I just saw where Richard Roundtree put some threat up like he was going to kill someone because he was pissed at
Black Rose
. I mean, I guess it was Richard if the patient’s information about him is correct. It’s not there anymore though. I don’t know what happened to it.” She starts going off on a tangent, “How intriguing is that? A battle of wits between serial killers! I'm ashamed to admit it, but I’m addicted to that blog. I find it so fascinating. You know, the whole idea of a Robin Hood serial killer.”

I move my hand in the air in a circular motion, signifying that I want her to wrap up the conversation, and she nods her head.

“Okay, well I just called to tell you to be careful online.” That’s not bad. I’m impressed with my wife’s reasoning and the excuse she gives for the call.

“Well, she follows your blog,” my wife confirms after hanging up, “but what do you think it means?”

“The question isn’t why Evelyn follows my blog; the question is how our killer found out that she does.”

“Maybe Evelyn posted something about you on one of her other social media sites. I’m sure people make posts about
Black Rose
on other sites.”

“I don’t think so. What I do think is somehow our killer got a hold of Evelyn’s personal information.”

“What, like her phone or something?”

“That’s a great guess. We both know if you can get your hands on someone’s phone, you have access to their entire life.”