Fireproof

CHAPTER 20

She was back. He was surprised. Even more surprised by the flush of sexual excitement he felt. That hadn’t happened in a long time.

He had spent the morning watching the investigators parade in and out of the alley. A rare treat. Something he didn’t get to do very often. And the risk he’d taken to dump the body was reaping greater rewards than he’d expected.

He wished he could see what they were bringing out in the brown paper bags. How could there possibly be so much? But of course they would be collecting evidence for the fire. They were even checking the Dumpster, going through the garbage piece by piece. He wanted to venture closer. He wanted to see everything.

He had an insatiable curiosity. That was partly what had gotten him to start his little habit. More like a hobby, really. Though it wasn’t until recently that he’d begun keeping track of some details after discovering what a sense of accomplishment it gave him to go over the kills weeks later.

In his logbook, he tried to record as many interesting tidbits as he could. Changing things up was so much easier when you could look back on the details and think about them. Sometimes remembering was almost as exciting as doing.

Well, not really as satisfying. But it placated him during those days or weeks—sometimes months—when he knew he’d have a dry spell and wouldn’t be able to get on the road.

Just this morning, after they found the body in the alley, he had pulled out his logbook and flipped to a page from another kill about a month ago. He had read his notes, memorizing the passage as if it were a poem or a psalm: “Cold night. Steam rises when you pull the guts out of the body. The blood is so warm on my hands.”

Actually, it did sound poetic.

The log helped control his curiosity. Allowed him to have patience. Even now, remembering that image and recalling how the blood felt on his skin were enough to soothe him. Enough to stop him from letting his curiosity push him to do something reckless just to get more information. After all, he knew how close he could get to a scene, where he could stand, how many different places he could move around to without drawing attention. There was a point where blending in crossed over to suspicion, and he had always been very good at sensing where that line was.

He watched the alley until they took away the body. Interesting how it looked in that bag, like a long black cocoon. He liked the look of body bags. They were so much better than garbage bags—strong, more efficient. Definitely wouldn’t leak. Sure would keep his vehicle cleaner. He was wondering where he could buy one of those when he saw the woman cop back on the scene.

Earlier he’d seen her getting into an ambulance. It made him smile because he was close enough to get a glimpse of her face. She hadn’t been pleased with the tall guy in the trench coat helping her. And she wasn’t pleased about getting inside the ambulance either.

Confident and stubborn. Sort of like him. A rebel. A kindred spirit.

He definitely needed a closer look at her.