The Butcher

by Jennifer Hillier

Rufus Wedge, otherwise known as the Beacon Hill Butcher, had been the most wanted man in the Pacific Northwest for a long time.

Reaching out, he once again touched the dent on the side of the Mathushek, left there from when he’d smashed her head into it four months ago.

At least he’d managed to get all the blood out of the carved roses before calling 9-1-1, despite his arthritic hands. One must always be careful cleaning up after a kill.

Why copycat an MO from a dead serial killer? What was the point of that, when everybody would know it couldn’t possibly be him? The fun of being a copycat killer was to capitalize on the publicity, to create further panic and mayhem in a city that was already scared.

Edward Shank didn’t like candy asses, and Jay Leno was a total candy ass.

Reminds me of the Rock lmaoooo

It was that feeling again, that sense of longing for something she couldn’t remember ever having.

“Not everyone is all bad or all good. Good people do bad things every day, and bad people do good things every day.”

Like ducks on the water, it was all smooth sailing on top and paddling like mad underneath.

This was no longer a clusterfuck. This was a living nightmare.

Those old folks’ homes are dens of sin.”