This month I’m taking part in the A-Z Challenge! Which means I’ll be writing 26 posts (on set days through the month) each one corresponding to a letter of the alphabet. Today is day 4, which means letter D.
My theme for the month is: Secret Diary Of A Serial Killer. Each post will be a new chapter in the story – I’m really excited to finally get this novel idea out of my head and into words. I hope you enjoy it! 🙂
The elevator ride to the coroner’s office was a quiet one. I was glad, it gave me time to think.
I was 13 when I first killed someone. It was an accident, I think. At least that’s what I told everyone, and everyone believed me. But the truth is more hazy.
I remember the before – playing in the woods. And I remember the after – a strange mix of panic and excitement. It’s the middle that slipped out of my memory.
But it was that moment which led me to become a Detective. Not the solving crime part, although that can be fun too, but the access to information – knowing how someone else had killed their victim, and why they did it.
As a rookie my first crime scene left me shaking from exhilaration. Being so close to death and finding out the specifics of who did it and how it happened. I knew right then, 10 years after the ‘accident’, that I would kill again – how easy it would be to copy someone else’s M.O.; to be able to experiment like that and pin it on them while I walk away free. Probably tasked with ‘solving’ the very murder I’d committed.
I felt a smile cross my lips and quickly looked at Capinski to make sure he hadn’t noticed. He was looking at the floor numbers, slowly cycling down to the sub-basement. I looked at the doors, mimicking his patient waiting.
How did this serial killer know what I’d done? I was always so careful to not be followed, nor to be seen when I plan out my crimes. Had I slipped up?
I fidgeted with my hands, rubbing one palm with my thumb.
“You’ve seen a body before,” Capinski said.
“I’m not nervous,” I said, dropping my hands to my sides.
He grunted his obvious disbelief.
As far as he knew I was worried about a serial killer pulling me into an investigation. Yet the thought of that just made me want to smile, thinking about how fun this game of cat and mouse could be.
Then I remembered he has a serious head start knowing my identity, not to mention Capinski was a great Detective. My fidgeting came back.
The elevator doors opened with a faint squeal of protest and we made our way down the long corridor to the morgue.
I watched Capinski’s shoulders move under his shirt as he walked ahead, and thought about how I could take him down.