Being handsome has its advantages and affords him easy access into people’s homes. They quickly learn you can not judge a book by its cover when they pay the ultimate price with their lives. He didn’t ask to look the way he does, nor to lose his loving mother at such a young age. Dealing with unwanted memories, he will find a way to erase his past by cleansing the city as he sees fit.
Detective Marcy Gagon, finds at times her relationship with the lead coroner, Krista Jones, a harder case to crack than the one she’s trying to solve. She feels alone in the hunt for a man whom she believes is a serial killer. The Chief of Police refuses to entertain the possibility that Toronto has yet another serial killer until she can bring him solid proof. But when another couple are killed within 24 hours of the last, Marcy gets the push she needs, and new leads come pouring in. Fully engulfed in her job, she also learns a deeper secret to her girlfriend’s past that only strengthens their bond. Hot on the heels of a killer, Marcy must somehow bring his reign of terror to an end without letting her personal life interfere.
Now the blood was on both Hansen’s legs, the left sleeve of his shirt, and the bottom of his shoe.
“Son of a bitch.” He kicked the man’s body, knowing full well he couldn’t get into the rental car covered in the blood of his murder victims. Hansen kicked off his shoes, careful to sidestep the mess. Moving through the house as though he belonged, he went into the kitchen. With the gloves still on he didn’t care what he touched. Grabbing the towel off the fridge door, he opened the cupboard under the sink. Not seeing any fresh rubber gloves, he dug out a plastic grocery bag. Taking it along, he went down the hallway directly to the end and the master bedroom. Using the towel, he clicked on the light and went into the closet. He pulled out a dark pair of dress pants and a black shirt. Hansen had a new appreciation for dark clothing.
Dressed in the dead man’s clothes, he slipped his soiled ones into the plastic bag. Returning to the closet, he dug out a pair of wing tips, unfortunately one size too small, but they’d have to suffice. Cramming his feet into them, he left them untied. He looked back to make sure he left nothing behind, then returned to gather his bloody shoes from the living room and noticed his own red footprints from his stocking feet. Not that it mattered now, as long as he didn’t carry it into the car.
Satisfied he had everything, Hansen turned out the lights and left through the backdoor, checking that the neighborhood was quiet before darting across the street and into the rental car.
Theresa Jacobs believes in magic, fairies, dragons, and ghosts. Yet she trusts science and thinks that aliens know way too much.
Though she still works 9-5 for the man, she has published a horror novel, two Sci-Fi novels, three horror novellas, many anthologies, children’s books, and poetry. She is also an ex-contributor to 1428elm.com an online horror magazine.
When she is not at work she spends her time, reading, writing, exercising her dog, and binge-watching TV shows, with her longtime partner and fiancé.
She is also a big movie buff and a sci-fi nerd at heart.