Free Her Darkest Nightmare by Brenda Novak

head. And it was beaten beyond recognition.”

 
    5
    We serial killers are your sons, we are your husbands, we are everywhere. And there will be more of your children dead tomorrow.
    â€”TED BUNDY, SERIAL KILLER, RAPIST, KIDNAPPER AND NECROPHILIAC
    The man in the bathroom stared down at his hands. He couldn’t get the blood out from under his nails. He opened the medicine cabinet, looking for a toothbrush he could use to help with that, when a knock came at the front door.
    â€œHey!” a male voice called out. “Stan, it’s Ian. Open up. I have some scary shit to tell you.”
    His pulse doubled as he shut the medicine cabinet. What now? He preferred not to be seen in Stan’s house. That was the whole reason he’d parked down the street and waded through the snow despite his hurry to get cleaned up.
    Someone must’ve spotted the bathroom light even though he’d been careful to leave the rest of the house dark.…
    Quickly wiping his hands, he checked the mirror to make sure he’d gotten the blood spatter off his face. There was some more pounding at the door, but he told himself not to panic. Panicking would only get him caught.
    â€œStan? You on the shitter or what?” Ian yelled. “Open the damn door!”
    Grabbing the knife he’d brought with him, he hurried to the front and peered through the peephole. It looked as if Ian was alone, but he couldn’t be too careful. In such a small town, it was tough to do anything without notice, especially as an “outsider.” Outsiders were watched closely—and one remained an outsider until he’d circulated among these people for a year or more. So it was a major accomplishment that, so far, he’d managed to get away with … well, murder .
    Had he not been so tense, he might’ve chuckled. For once, that cliché wasn’t just an expression.
    His luck could always change, however. He was so amped up on adrenaline he was still shaking. Chopping a human body to pieces had that effect on a person. It was a risk for him to encounter anyone; any hint of strange behavior could raise suspicion.
    So what was he going to do? Ian seemed determined to get a response. Should he open the door and stab the guy? Or wait to see what he wanted?
    When Ian put a key in the lock, there was no more time to think. He opened the door. “What’s up?” he asked, keeping the knife ready but out of view as he leaned casually against the frame.
    The other man blinked at him. “Whoa! Who are you? ”
    â€œA friend of Stan’s.” That was the name Ian had used for the homeowner or tenant, wasn’t it? He was pretty sure he’d heard correctly.
    â€œSo am I,” Ian responded. “I live next door.” He tried to peer into the house. “Where is Stan?”
    How the hell would he know? He’d chosen this house out of desperation. The way it was shut up, he’d assumed its occupant was gone for the winter—or at least gone for a while. He’d been relieved when he broke in through the back and found that he didn’t have to overpower anyone else, that he’d managed to find shelter from the storm. “Not home.”
    â€œSo his father hasn’t improved?”
    He measured the other man in his mind. Should he go for the heart? Or the throat? Which would be quicker? “’Fraid not.”
    Confusion created lines in Ian’s forehead. “I’m a little stunned to find someone here. Did he say you could stay? Because, if he did, he didn’t mention a word of it to me when he asked me to look after the place.”
    â€œNo, he doesn’t know I’m here. Last night the roads were so bad I couldn’t get anywhere else. And I knew Stan wouldn’t mind if I grabbed some shelter until it passed.” He tried to appear confident, as if this weren’t anything unusual. At least part of what he said was true—he