Page 1 of Little Twisted Things

Prologue

I picked the lock and slowly opened the door, stepping inside the home where the moonlight streamed through the windows. Everything smelled expensive. Leather. Mahogany. A hint of sandalwood lingering in the air. I wandered through the kitchen, my fingertips grazing the cool marble countertop. I made my way into the living room, which overlooked the ocean through towering glass walls. The house was immaculate. Nothing was out of place. Running my finger across the glass table, there wasn’t a speck of dust.

I entered what appeared to be a study. A computer sat on a large mahogany desk, with files neatly placed in one corner. I opened the drawers. Nothing. Something wasn’t adding up.

I climbed the staircase quietly and entered the master bedroom. It was exactly what I’d expected. Neat. Organized. Controlled. I noticed a man’s watch on the dresser beside a pair of silver cufflinks. When I opened the closet doors, everything was arranged by color. White shirts. Blue shirts. Gray suits. Black suits. Raging OCD perhaps? I opened the nightstand drawer. Nothing. The second drawer. Nothing.

I started back downstairs, and something caught my eye. How hadn’t I seen it before? There was a tiny scratch on the hardwood floor. A few inches long. Barely noticeable. Directly in front of the built-in bookcase. I bent down and ran my finger across the mark. It was fresh.

Looking up at the bookcase, I noticed it didn’t sit flush against the wall. Most people would never have noticed. But I did. Predators always notice the little details. I stood back for a moment and examined it.

“What are you hiding?” I whispered.

I swore I smelled bleach. Leaning closer, I inhaled deeply through my nose, and I was right. There was a bleach smell coming from behind the bookcase. I started pulling the books one by one, and when I reached the tenth book on the shelf, I heard a click, and the entire bookcase shifted outward. A hallway stood before me, and at the end was a steel door slightly ajar. I slowly walked and pushed it open, immediately covering my mouth and nose with my hand to shield them from the smell of death and bleach. Just like the rest of the house, the room was immaculate. A stainless-steel table sat in the center. Cabinets lined the walls. The counters held surgical instruments in perfect rows. My eyes drifted to the shelves filled with a neatly labeled plastic bin. Watches. Necklaces. Cell phones. Locks of hair. These were the trophies of a killer. It was then that I realized the cheater I was hunting was also a serial killer.

1

One Year Ago

I reached over and gently stroked Alex’s face as he slept peacefully. Climbing out of bed, I put on my robe and headed down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. We’d been seeing each other for almost three months. And as lovely as it was, I always kept my guard up. He was a man after all.

I brewed a cup of coffee, grabbed the TV remote on the island, and turned it on while I slid two pieces of sourdough into the toaster.

“Breaking news this morning out of Key West. Police are investigating the discovery of a young woman whose body was found just before sunrise inside Fort Zachary State Park.”

I turned and stared at the TV mounted under the cabinet.

“The victim, believed to be in her early twenties, was discovered seated beneath one of the trees near the old fort. Police confirmed the victim suffered extensive injuries before death and believe the killer staged the body after the attack.”

I moved closer to the screen as the news switched to aerial footage. Yellow crime scene tape. Police everywhere. And if you looked closely enough, you could see a pale-yellow dress, long blonde hair perfectly cascading over one shoulder, and crossed ankles.

“Investigators have not released the victim’s identity, but sources tell us this homicide is similar to several unsolved murders spanning multiple states over the last eight years.”

A staged body? I smiled. Interesting. Very interesting. Someone who understood presentation. Someone else wanted their victims remembered.

“Morning, beautiful.” Alex strolled into the kitchen and planted a kiss on my cheek.

“Morning.” My eyes never left the TV.

The toaster popped, distracting me from the gruesome news.

“What’s going on?” Alex pointed to the TV.

“A young woman was found murdered inside Fort Zachary State Park.”

“Oh, my God.” He brewed himself a cup of coffee. “That’s awful. I don’t understand people in this world. How could someone do that?”

I shrugged. “Probably some childhood trauma. Who knows?” I slapped some peanut butter on my toast.

“I just don’t understand how someone could take another person’s life.” He shook his head as he leaned against the counter.

“The news said the woman’s body was perfectly staged after her death,” I said.

“Even more sick,” he said. “I have to get to work. What time is your interview at the art gallery?” He wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer.

“Ten o’clock.” I smiled.

“Good luck.” His lips met mine. “I hope you get the job.”