Free The Tease (The Darling Killer Trilogy) by Nikki M. Pill

that.”
    He didn’t contradict me about the word “date.” My pulse sped up a little.
Maybe it’s the coffee
, my mind chattered.
Cori Victoria Krista Darcy Lisa.
    The waiter ushered us to an out-of-the-way booth. A candle-lit hush pervaded the restaurant. I felt like I should speak softly and have perfect hair. The menu was an array of rich appetizers and tempting drinks. I wanted one sip of every beverage: the August Revolution, the Oldest Living Confederate Widow, Thick as Thieves, the Rathbone. My macabre sense of humor and I settled on a gin drink called In The Pines which involved Death’s Door, Cocchi American and Douglas Fir Eau de Vie. Kevin selected a Dark & Stormy, which included Brugal Anejo, Lime, Cruzan Black Strap, and Ginger Syrup.
    “You mentioned you have a day job,” he said as we awaited our drinks.
    “I’m a therapist,” I said. “Unless I’m sitting next to someone on an airplane. Then I’m an accountant.”
    He chuckled. I noticed that, despite his lean face, he had a dimple near the right corner of his mouth when he smiled. “Do you work in a hospital?”
    “It’s a private practice,” I said. “I see a lot of clients with depression or anxiety, trauma, addictions, that sort of thing.”
They don’t all have the same hair color. Is he collecting? Cori light brown, Victoria brunette, Krista strawberry blonde, Darcy blonde, Lisa red.
“My passion is domestic violence.”
    “That takes a lot of strength,” he said.
    I shrugged.
He has a type. They always have a type. It only has to make sense to him.
“It’s just what I’ve always been able to do. How about you?”
    “I carve miniatures.”
    “Like, figurines?”
Cori was a prostitute, found at a hotel in Lakeview, time of death roughly four in the afternoon. Victoria was an escort, found dead in an alley around ten at night. Krista was also murdered at night on her boat on Lake Michigan; it was set up for a date. That was a jump in socioeconomic status; wonder what lead to that. Darcy was a waitress murdered in her home in Wrigleyville around three in the afternoon. And then Lisa at the theater. From high-risk lifestyles to low-risk. Was he practicing?
    “Yes,” he said. “Mainly for gaming companies, but I occasionally do work for décor or film projects.”
    Our drinks arrived and I noticed how long his slender fingers were. “You carve them by hand?”
All strangled. No prints at the crime scenes. All posed awkwardly, except Darcy. All—
    He nodded. “I make a block of Epoxy and then carve the miniature out of that.”
    —had stockings stuffed in their mouths. All found in their lingerie, clothes folded neatly next to them. All had the word “Darling” written on their bodies. For God’s sake, answer him, don’t open your mouth and say something about necrophilia.
I mentally catalogued the traits necessary for carving figures: creativity, patience, an eye for detail, dexterity.
Stop thinking about his hands. Say something. Say something. 90% of known necrophiles are male. 68% crave a nonresistant and non-rejecting partner. Say something else. Say anything else.
“So how often do you get headaches?” I asked.
    He started. “How do you know that?”
    I sighed and winced. “Sorry. My filter disappears when I’m sleep-deprived.”
    “It’s okay,” he said. “But seriously, how did you know that?”
    I rubbed my temples. “Because your ears aren’t aligned with the center line of your shoulders, and every inch forward is an extra ten pounds of pressure on your spine. Your shoulders also round forward a little. If you hunch over your work all day, your pec minors get tight and your lats get overstretched, and you probably bunch up the muscles around your neck, which results in sore shoulders and headaches.”
Great. My first date in over a year, and I’m pointing out the few miniscule physical imperfections he has. Maybe it’s a defense so I don’t end up with another –
and I hurriedly pushed the thought