Beneath Blackwater River Leslie Wolfe (me reader txt) 📖

He’d taken her home and tried his best. She was young, innocent, scared, a pleasure to possess, but she wasn’t her. Nothing she would do or say could fix that.

After a few days, he found himself tired of her endless tears, her whining, her fears. He’d grown weary of her, frustrated and bitter. While her body lay tense by his side, afraid to move and desperate to keep the distance as if his skin burned her, he was wide awake, his eyes fixed on the ceiling that had witnessed such incredible love.

That girl didn’t deserve to be there… She had to go. Her presence was an insult to Mira’s memory. But maybe there was another out there who would fill the void, one who’d embrace the love he had to give, one who would never betray him. But he knew he could never let the girl leave, despite her tear-filled promises; the moment she would be free, she’d run to the first cop and have him locked behind bars like an animal.

He had no choice.

He’d never thought of taking a life before. It didn’t make him happy; he didn’t find the thought of killing those girls thrilling or in the least bit exciting. It was a chore, something he did quickly, out of necessity, like taking out the trash. He didn’t like doing it, but he didn’t mind it either; he just didn’t think about it. It was something he needed to do to make room for the next girl, who might be the one, who might be able to soothe his unhealing heartbreak and bring him what he so desperately needed.

That first runaway girl had gone, many years ago. Others had since come and gone, leaving him emptier and in more pain than he’d thought possible. Now Kirsten, she seemed like she could be the one. She looked just like Mira, just as he remembered, with her long, blond hair, her wonderful blue eyes, and her thin waist that fit so well in his hands. She was quiet and didn’t fight him, even pretended to wrap her arms around him, making the lie seem closer to the truth. She was obedient, resigned to spend her days waiting and her nights in the cold darkness he’d designed to set the stage as close to the reality of back then as possible.

But not even Kirsten was her, the one he’d do anything to be able to touch again. His first, never-forgotten, true love. His Mira.

He’d given her that name, short for Miramar, because it meant all the things she was to him. The beauty of the ocean, the endless blue of the waves, their restless motion, captivating him, driving him to spend blissful hours admiring the view, the sight of her. Because he wanted to call her by a name no one else would. He’d chosen that name for her after they’d walked hand in hand on Miramar Beach, their whispers safe under the ocean breeze, her eyes sparkling like the sun’s rays broken into a million dazzling shards by endless waves.

He’d never dreamed of vengeance for her double betrayal, even if the pain it left behind was as searing as the lethal bite of a venomous snake. He’d never envisioned himself hurting his Mira in any way or making her pay for what she’d done all those years ago; he loved her too much for that. But, lately, he’d found himself thinking that for as long as she was alive, he could never heal. He could never really forget her, get over her, no matter how many Kirstens would stay at the house with him and keep him company at night, if all he could think of was her, of how he wished to hold her one more time, to taste her, to whisper her name over and over while she rose to meet him.

Perhaps the time had come to put the fire out himself, with his own hands, even if that snuffed the life out of him forever.

26Locket

A quiet whir filled the room, no other sound competing against it in the stillness of the morgue. Under the bright, fluorescent lights, the machine extracting the DNA from the roots of Bill Caldwell’s hair cycled through its steps, while a faint, acrid smell of chemicals filled the air.

Kay and Dr. Whitmore watched the centrifuge for a long, silent moment, then the medical examiner approached the table where Alyssa’s body lay covered with a fresh white sheet.

“Come on,” he whispered to the body, pushing the table on its wheels toward the back wall, where refrigerated storage units were lined up in rows of four. “Don’t worry… He loves you very much,” he continued, talking about Bill Caldwell as if Alyssa could hear his words. “That’s why he reacted that way. He’s in shock, I believe.”

He opened the door to one of the refrigerated storage units and propped the table against the railed edges, then released the clamps holding the table and rolled the body inside with one firm move. He closed the door with a sigh. “Such a shame, to die so young.”

Kay glanced at the doctor for a moment, worried. He looked as if he’d aged ten years in the past two days, his spirit bent under the burden of the DNA blunder—as the local media kept referring to it—digging it up and stirring it endlessly in a distasteful attempt to retain the public’s interest. Their small town didn’t enjoy such drama too often, and there were many who stood to gain from prolonging the ordeal, with little respect for the lives of everyone involved.

She watched him from a distance as he put Alyssa’s body away, his words to the lifeless girl tugging at the strings of Kay’s heart. He walked a little slower than usual, his head bowed, his shoulders stiff and raised as if to protect his neck from a fatal blow that was yet to come. His eyes looked haunted, and the long hours of work and