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Stop trying to clean up everybody else’s mess, and concentrate on your own.
Judgment is one of those things you can feel before you know what it is.
Being judged is bad enough when it’s correct. But being wrongly judged is the worst.
The long hair was curled up inside the bag. Medium brown, just like mine. It took everything I had not to smile. Not to react at all. When I killed Paul Norris, my hair was strawberry blond.
Always better to admit a mistake up front rather than try to hide it.
Whenever I find myself feeling particularly down, or desperate, she is the one I imagine killing. Countless hours have been spent planning her death, and I’ve come up with so many different ways.
Burke had almost scared me into never killing again. Not an easy thing to admit. And not something I’d say out loud. But I refused to let that man determine how I would live my life. Instead, I regrouped. Became more selective. Learned how to get rid of a body. And I kept going—right up until it became too exhausting.
Yes, people put their interests ahead of others’, even in times of tragedy. Accident, illness, missing child—it doesn’t matter. Self-interest always takes precedence. The people who are supposed to help, who get paid to help, will still choose themselves.
The aftermath of killing Plum Dixon has grown into a giant, slimy squid. All those tentacles make it so difficult to contain.
A distinctly male reaction to the word delicate. Women lean in closer, and men try to get away. It’s like they’re afraid the next word will either be pregnant or menstruation.
I can’t murder my way out of this mess.
It would be easier if I could kill her, but that isn’t an option right now. You can’t have multiple people die or disappear after stopping by your house. Even the worst detective would figure that out. But what I can do is try to confuse Norma and throw her suspicion somewhere else. Same thing I did with Tula.
I rarely post on social media, but not because I don’t understand it. I don’t post because I do understand. The urge to prove I have lived never goes away.
My freezer is not the first one I bought. The original broke and had to be replaced. This one has been here for about twenty years. Plum was the last person to be in it.
Norma has eaten all of her eggplant pasta but hasn’t touched the vegetables. “No, no. I’m fine.” In the kitchen, I spoon a little more sauce onto the pasta. As I turn to go back into the dining room, the dizziness hits. My vision blurs.
Has she outsmarted you at las? Dosed your food with something
“Everything that’s happened always comes back to you. Plum’s disappearance, the bruise on her temple, Cole being blamed, even the death of Kelsie. You’re the only one who connects them all.”
My adrenaline surged, making me feel all lit up inside. I feel it every time. Always have, going all the way back to Gary. It makes me feel invincible. This is the only time I do, and unfortunately, it never lasts long.
my world is getting too messy, too risky, and too many people are disappearing after they come to my house. Correction: Too many people are showing up at my house. And they all think I’m a murderer.
So much needs to be done after a murder. So many boring, mundane details can’t be skipped. Like the nonsense with the gadgets, the belongings, the car. It’s all tedious, and yet you cannot delay. The world almost moves too fast to get away with murder. No wonder there are so few of us left. We’re dinosaurs.
When Archie asked for a picture, I found him one. It was inside an old frame at a garage sale, and I bet he still carries it in his wallet. It wouldn’t surprise me if he scanned it into his phone.
This was very thoughtful of her. No one has ever bought me a weapon before. Not even for self-defense.
Most of my night is spent in the recliner, dozing on and off. It’s the worst kind of sleep, the kind that tricks me into thinking I’m awake when I’m not.
Omg yes I hate that kind of restless sleep
Morgan is doing the same thing, trying to ignore the whispers and glares. I respect her more now than I did a few minutes ago. I know exactly how she feels.
“I know you’re guilty,” Burke said. If he thought he was going to goad me into answering, he was wrong. Burke stood at my door for a few more minutes before giving up. “I’m sure I’ll see you again, Lorena.” That also made my heart stop. It sounded like a promise.
Lottie’s doing it on purpose. Don’t let her. Whenever you feel like it’s too much, just give me a call. I’m always here for you. I shiver, making a face at his words. It was creepy how Burke always circled back to me.
He has always known. Back then, I could tell by the way he looked at me. It was like I had the word guilty painted on my forehead. He didn’t question it, either. That type of blind faith can be dangerous. All he needed—all he needs—is an opening. He’ll sprint right through it, straight to me.
“There isn’t really a play here, is there?” she asks. I wish my son hadn’t picked someone who was so clever. “No. There’s no play here,” I say. “Not at this church.” Morgan looks confused. “It’s at another one?” “That’s right.” “You’re cheating on your church?”
That’s the thing about anger. It doesn’t just sit around, doing nothing inside of you. Anger has to go somewhere. Some people probably think my method is crazy. I think it’s crazy there aren’t more people like me.
One of the most important rules I have is never to document anything. No written lists, no using a computer that isn’t mine. Get it done, get rid of the body, leave nothing behind.
But I can’t stop staring at Cropped Hair. I know her. Bonnie’s daughter has changed a lot, starting with that hair. It used to be so much longer.
“Who are you?” I ask. “Burke.” “You are thirty years too young to be Burke.” “That’s my father,” he says.
“And you were going to kill her. Your father needs you to get rid of everything that points to him. The camera in my house, the texts, the way he convinced Norma what to
I’m saying my dad found you. Then he contacted Plum, told her all about your case and where to find you.” This takes a minute. Being stunned into silence is real.
Is it better to admit what I’ve done and go to prison, or to lie and get killed? Because what he wants to do is arrest me.
When most of your life has been lived, you turn to the next phase. What will you be remembered for? Or will you be remembered at all?
Burke’s goal isn’t to catch a serial killer, but to be remembered for catching one. He has been chasing the dream for decades.
People say they want the truth, and they believe they want it. But it’s a lie. Nine times out of ten, if you know what’s good for you, the last thing you want is the truth. What you want, what we all want, is the story we believe in. And it’s probably a lie.
“No matter how many killers you arrest, there’s always going to be another.”
The whole thing started late on Friday, when Pastor Doug told our church organist that money was missing from Thursday night. The take from the raffle was too low. That
Was that the day Morgan visited?
Tula and I have become friends over the past couple of weeks. Norma was really the one who brought us together. We had both dealt with her, and we’d watched her spiraling out of control, but neither of us saw her killing spree coming.
The more I think about it, the more I love this idea. It’s murder-adjacent, but it doesn’t put me at any risk. I wouldn’t kill anyone. My job would be to talk about it, and to get others to open up.
Cole shifts in his seat. I glance under the table and purse my lips. I’d forgotten how tall he is. I’d have to break his legs to get him in the freezer.
Lmao woow
