“Your turn,” she said.
He reached for the nearest journal and tossed it to her.
Delight lifted her lips, and she opened it, tilting the pages toward the fire to illuminate them. “Naughty boy. You drew pictures, too, Jason.”
“I was an architect,” he said. “I like drawing.”
She read for a while, sipping her wine. “This is rather detailed.”
“I know.” His cock wept against his zipper.
She looked at him directly. “You’re smart enough to understand that we have to burn these, right?”
He finished his wine, understanding the danger the journals represented. But they were his, damn it. “I suppose so.”
“There you go,” she said happily, pouring more wine in her glass and then doing the same in his. “I brought an accelerant.” She put the bottle on the ground and walked back to her vehicle, pulling out a healthy-sized can of lighter fluid. “I know it’s difficult to let these go, but you want to be safe, and you can always rewrite them. You’re a genius, Jason. You can remember everything in great detail.”
She was correct.
“All right,” he said.
She ripped off the front of the journal she’d read and threw it in the fire before tearing out the individual pages and finally tossing the back cover in. Then she opened the can of lighter fluid and poured it all over the papers. They went up instantly, and a swoosh of fire flashed toward the trees.
He could almost hear the screams of his victims.
Thunder rumbled in the distance as he watched his glorious pages burn.
“Now, those two,” she said.
He took another big gulp of his wine and then tore the second journal apart the same way she had before throwing it onto the fire.
She gleefully poured more lighter fluid over it, her lithe body dancing in the firelight.
He finished his wine and sat back. “I could keep just one of them.”
She sighed and returned to her seat to finish her glass of wine. She poured herself another one, then walked toward him and dumped out the rest of the bottle in his glass. “Come on, Jason. You know you need to burn it.”
“I can’t do this anymore,” he burst out. “It’s too much.” The hiding by himself without his dates was killing him. Perhaps taking her life would help him to calm down.
“Do it.”
For courage, he tipped back the rest of the wine and then threw the plastic cup into the fire. “Fine.”
She’d been correct that he was a genius, and he would remember the kills. In fact, she’d be the first one he recorded in his new journal. His head was swimming from the wine, but he wasn’t letting her leave tonight. Almost angrily, he tore apart the journal and threw it on the fire.
She smiled and sprayed more of the lighter fluid.
A light rain began to fall. He’d read that there was a big storm coming.
She retook her seat, and together, silently, they watched the papers burn. “What did you do with the cops’ phones?” she asked. “Tell me. I did let you shoot at them, you know.”
“The phones are in the cabin,” he murmured. “I don’t know why you wanted me to take them. I turned them off so they can’t be traced.” No doubt she had more games to play, or at least she thought she did.
She wasn’t going to survive the night.
His eyes blurred as he watched his wonderful drawings go up in flames, and his head swam. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and his vision blurred. His feet went numb, and it took him a moment to realize that his ears tingled. What was wrong with him? Slowly, way too slowly, he turned to look at Abigail. “What did you—”
The world went fuzzy, and he slumped down in his chair, wanting to scream, but then the darkness took him.
