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Merry Christmas! I’m getting myself an accessory to murder.
We’d make the perfect couple if she’d stop threatening to call the FBI.
There’s a certain Hell for people who blush when a killer calls them their wife.
“This is kidnapping with more steps,”
“Can I wait in the car?” I groan. “With the corpse?” He raises an eyebrow. “Easier company.
“But your goddamn path is psychopathy, and the personal interest is serial murder.” “Whoops,” he jokes.
“They say not to take work home, but what if work takes you home?”
This is a lot more fun than the last kill. Everyone should drag their therapist along for murders.
“I never threatened death or marriage.” “It felt implied,” I snap. “Hmm, sounds like an anxiety issue on your end.”
“Ah yes, the serial killer's improved depression will help me sleep well at night.”
Instead of playing a gorey Where’s Waldo I go back upstairs.
I want her more than I want peace of mind
“Can you come kill this guy? I was trying to get you him as a gift.”
“Told you it would work out.” I smile. “Just need to drug your family. Then we can have our happily ever after.”
