Free The First Victim by JB Lynn Page A

cover of the dark night.
    Raising the binoculars again, he adjusted them so that he could focus on her face. She was upset, that much was clear.
    He smiled.
    Could she sense him here? Watching. Waiting. That he was so close?
    Soon.
    He’d have her soon.
    But he’d have to wait a little while longer. He wanted to make sure she knew he was coming for her. It had been a long time since she’d been played with. He’d waited too long to rush this.
    The game was about to begin.
    It was time to get to work. He put down the binoculars and turned his attention to Jackie.
    They were so much easier when they were like this. Quiet. Compliant. Dead.
    He closed Jackie Willet’s unseeing eyes, brushing his palm gently over her face like she was made of porcelain.
    He picked up her limp, naked body and carried it into the next room to clean her. Turning on Shirley Temple singing “The Good Ship Lollipop,” he began to hum.
    He laid her out on the metal table and bathed her body with slow, deliberate movements. Rinsing the sponge he used often, he wiped away the dirt and grime, the blood and tears, the semen and the secretions. When she was finally clean, she became the perfect canvas.
    Now his fun began.
    He shaved her first, using a straight razor and water. He didn’t use any cream or lather because he loved the sound the blade made scraping across the skin. He timed the scrapes so that they kept rhythm with the music. He shaved under her arms, her pubic hair and her legs, until she was as smooth as a china doll. It was time to insert the toy surprise.
    The lollipops were laid out on a special shelf, sorted by color. He hadn’t been able to decide what flavor Jackie was, so he picked up an assortment. Not like Emily. He already knew Emily was cherry.
    After he was done, he dressed her in a pair of pink baby-doll pajamas, wrapping her in lace and flowers and innocence.
    He did her hair next. Brushing it until it gleamed, curling it into perfect ringlets with a curling iron, taking care not to singe her soft cheeks.
    He did her makeup last, covering all the bruises and scratches that marred her otherwise perfect face. He curled her eyelashes and applied six coats of mascara so that they popped against her skin. With a sure hand, he traced her lips with a pale pink lip liner, transforming her mouth into a perfect Cupid’s bow.
    Stiff from working while bent over, he stood up and stretched before stepping away to admire his handiwork. She looked like a sleeping angel.
    He smiled his satisfaction before scooping up his camera and immortalizing the image.
    She was the best yet.

Chapter 8
     
    Emily? Emily? You okay?”
    Disoriented, Emily struggled to wake up. The light was so bright. She shielded her eyes against the morning sun reflecting off the lake and pouring through the windows of the Big Room.
    “Earth to Emily.”
    Emily turned to focus on Laurie. At sixteen, she oozed adolescent angst 24/7. Whereas Emily had clung to her tomboy tendencies at that age, Laurie seemed to awaken wearing the makeup of a vamping cover model.
    “You didn’t wake me, Emily,” Laurie whined in direct contrast to her sophisticated appearance. “I overslept.”
    “Sorry.” Emily unfurled herself from the ball she’d rolled into overnight and slowly rose to her feet.
    “Daddy always wakes—woke me.”
    Even though she was practically a stranger, Emily knew that her sister’s eyes were filled with tears; she’d heard them in the catch in her voice. It was enough to make a painful lump rise in her own throat. She knew the girl was looking to her to make everything better, but she couldn’t find the words. She flashed what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but she wasn’t sure it hit the mark, since she’d avoided looking at her sister’s face. “I’ll give you a ride to school.”
    Her sister had no interest in the olive branch. “Don’t bother.” She stalked off, muttering under her breath.
    After making sure that Laurie, a package of