Sinister

I watched her from the diner window. She was sitting on the hood of her Nissan, legs crossed at the ankles, brown hair twisting in he wind.

The coffee was bland on my tongue, and the sugar I put in didn't help. Well, maybe it did, but I didn't notice. I was too focused on the woman outside.

I wondered when I chosen my first destination, if there would be anyone like Eden here.

The bruises I'd left on her neck swam in my vision.

Her gasping breath rattled my ears.

But what was entirely too interesting — that kept replaying — was her lack of resistance when I had my hands around her throat.

She knew she was going to die.

No matter what happened, Eden Harper was always going to be one of my victims.

When the waitress came to drop off the check, my lips curved upward.

She was very pretty.