I just got my own computer and the first thing I did was set up this MyJournal account. Everyone talks about what a great place this is and I’ve already visited a lot of the people here and they’re great.

About me? There’s really not much to tell. My life is actually boring. Not much of a life, really. But I’m going to change that. My dad always told me if I wanted to make my mark on the world, I needed to be in control and not take shit from anyone. I know I’m destined to do great things. Everyone will know my name. I won’t be a nobody forever.

“He sounds young,” Nick said thoughtfully.

“Too young. Like he’s in high school.”

“He posted this two years ago. He may be in college now.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t do anything with this information,” Carina said, discouraged. “I’d really hoped I’d see something like, ‘I killed a woman last weekend and dumped her body on the beach.’ ”

“Too neat.”

“You’re telling me.” She paused. “How long did it take you to catch the Bozeman Butcher?”

Nick tensed and she wished she hadn’t asked. “He killed twenty-two women in thirteen years. I was sheriff for the last three years of his reign. Under my watch, four women died.”

“But you caught him.”

“I didn’t have much to do with his capture,” he said cryptically.

“But-”

Will approached, interrupting the conversation. “Okay, I have eight guys in place as we discussed earlier, and two more checking everyone’s names and ID when they enter. We’ll have a list. Might not do us any good, but I’ll never forget the Fremont case.”

“What was that?” Nick asked.

“A year ago,” Carina said, “a nurse was killed in the parking lot of the hospital. We caught the case-my first as detective-staked out the memorial service, which was in the hospital chapel. The killer was cocky enough to use a stolen hospital ID and sit right up in front. We had a team of men in the next room verifying every ID and we found him, arrested him as he left.”

“Very neat and tidy.”

“Wish this case was,” Will said. He glanced at his watch. “We need to talk to the chief.”

“I’ll meet you outside,” Nick said.

“Actually, we need you to be there,” Carina said. “Will talked to Chief Causey earlier today and he wants to meet you and get a copy of your credentials.”

“Sure,” Nick said, sounding cautious. “Is there a problem?”

“No, but since the press has started making calls, Causey wants to make sure all is are dotted and ts crossed. I’m also making another push for a task force, using Dillon’s informal profile to back it up.”

“Because he’s going to kill again.”

“Seems likely. But maybe if we get the manpower we need we can stop him before he becomes the textbook definition of a serial killer.”

Soundlessly, she cried as he washed her body.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you like that,” he told Becca as he washed the streaks of blood from between her legs. The water was tepid, neither hot nor cold, but her body trembled, making the water ripple.

He stroked her hair, kissed her cheek, ran a hand over her breasts. Scrubbed her body with a rag and soap, lots of soap. Rinsed her well.

“You were very good. Not like the whore. You were sweet and fresh and new. All for me.” When he’d penetrated her the first time he’d realized she was a virgin. He’d come instantly, the knowledge that he’d be the first and the last man to have her providing such intense excitement he didn’t want to hold back.

She strained against the gag. “Don’t do that. You’ll make it hurt more. You can’t tell anyone what happened.”

She shook her head back and forth, her eyes wide. She tried to say something, guttural sounds rumbling in her throat. He didn’t understand her, but he didn’t have to. She’d just lie to him. All women, even beautiful virgins like Becca, lie. She’d say she wouldn’t tell, but the first thing she would do is go to the police and tell them who he was.

Obviously, he couldn’t allow that to happen.

He washed her hair and poured water over her head. She breathed heavily, tears running from her eyes.

“I’m sorry, it has to be done.” He motioned for her to get up. “Walk back to the bed,” he told her.

Her entire body shook, water dripping off her to the floor. He walked behind her with a towel, one he bought just for her. Brand-new, never been used.

Suddenly, she ran for the door.

“No!” He took three long strides, but she had the door open and ran down the hall.

He was faster. He caught her before she even touched the front door.

He threw her body down on the floor. Her head hit the coffee table and he saw blood on her scalp. He’d have to clean the table later.

She struggled as he picked her up and she scratched his neck. He held her tight, brought her back to his bed. She fought and cried as he tied her up, her hands above her head and her feet to the posts at the end of the bed.

His breathing was rapid, his face flushed with the exertion. And, if he thought about it, the excitement of chasing her. He’d been scared, very scared, for a minute, but he couldn’t ignore the rush when he caught her, subdued her, brought her back to his bed, and tied her up.

He looked at the hand that had scratched him. He couldn’t see anything under her nails, she had barely even broken his skin, but that didn’t mean something wasn’t there. He had to be careful. He took a sharp knife and cleaned under her fingernails. She bled. He then held her hand in a bowl of bleach. A guttural scream reverberated in her chest and he watched her vocal cords and the small, thin bones strain against her neck.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but she had tried to escape.

He took the time to flush the bloody bleach down the toilet and carefully wash the bowl.

Then he returned to Becca, plastic wrap in hand.

He started at her feet. Slowly, carefully, wrapping Becca’s body.

First one leg. Then the other. Her butt, everything but her vagina. Her waist. Around and around. Her breasts. Then each arm. And to be safe, he wrapped her again.

His entire body quivered with excitement.

He looked in her eyes and saw fear.

“Good night, Becca.”

He rolled on a condom and pushed himself into her with one stroke. Her body jerked beneath him. He brought the plastic heavy-duty garbage bag from his nightstand, pulled it over her head, and tied it around her neck.

Then he laid on top of her as her body convulsed beneath him.

This time, he was done when she was.

EIGHTEEN

ANGIE’S MEMORIAL SERVICE was held at a funeral home near the college in the middle of the business district. More than a hundred people crowded into the chapel waiting for the service to begin. To Carina, it was particularly depressing that so many in attendance were young. And at the front of the room poor Angie lay in her coffin.

Will touched Carina’s arm. “I’m sorry I have to bail on you. My flight leaves in two hours. I’d better high-tail it to the airport.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “Keep that scumbag in prison where he belongs. That’s part of our job, so don’t worry about it.” She glanced over to where Nick and his brother were in a quietly heated conversation. “Nick can fill in for you until you return.”

“Hmmm.”

She jerked her head back to Will and narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s what?” He was grinning.

“That hmmm.”

“You’re reading way too much into my noncomment.”

“We’ve been partners for over a year, friends for even longer. I know you.”

“And I know you.” Will looked over her shoulder at Nick. “I don’t make it a habit to check out men, but he seems smart and reasonably good-looking. Not as handsome as yours truly, of course, but men of my attributes are rare.”