No Ordinary Killer by Rita Karnopp

plans for you. You’re going to become famous. Hell, I’m going to be
famous. You see, I told you we’re going to be good together.” The older man
raised an eight inch butcher’s knife, then stabbed it into the mattress near
Joey’s side. “You have a marvelous body,” he said, moving his left palm the
length of Joey’s chest and taunt stomach.
    “Don’t do this. I’ll stay
here and be your lover. I … won’t start stinking that way. I’ll do whatever you
say, honest. I don’t want to be famous. Come on, let’s have some fun and forget
about this shit.”
    “Joey, Joey, no can do.
You’re perfect for this, man.” He jerked the knife out of the mattress.
Reaching over he turned the small lamp on the night stand down … then turned
the radio up … a tasteless rapper yelled his poetic riddle. Slow and deliberate
he slid the young man’s boxers off, excited by the view. Breathing heavily, the
killer shoved them into Joey’s mouth, followed by a strip of duct tape.
    “I wish I could tell you this
isn’t going to hurt … because it’s gonna hurt like hell.” A stream of blood
followed the tip of the knife as he split open the young man’s perfect body
from center neck to pelvis.
    Joey’s stifled screams filled
the room.
      Megan bolted
upright in the cold water. She glanced around the bathroom, then stepped out of
the tub, wrapping her chilled skin in a heavy velour robe. Two steps and she
dropped to the toilet seat, struggling to collect herself.
    I’d been so vivid … so real … so intimate. She’d
written that scene, but it had come alive in her dream somehow. Joey’s fear
overwhelmed her. The violence and cold-bloodedness of the killer stayed with
her. She attempted to shake it off … but it clung to her like a static sheet of
fabric softener.
    Hesitant, she pulled the water plug lever, quickly
blew out the scented candles, then switched off the CD player before heading to
bed. She crawled between the cold, cotton sheets and wished her lover had found
a way to sneak his way into her bed. She hated being alone. She liked the
games, the sex, and in so many ways the secrecy of their relationship was an
aphrodisiac. She smiled to herself.
      Her lids grew
heavy and she welcomed the peace.
    In and out … in and out … in
and out the older man plunged the eight inch knife into young Joey Fallon’s
body. Long after he was dead. Blood splattered on the ceiling, the walls, and
the mirror. Blood covered the killer and he reveled in the feel of sweet, warm
blood as it dripped off his face.
    Megan gasped awake. Shaking, she quickly turned on the
reading light. Breathing quick and labored, she pushed the horror from her
mind. Damn that Kari Winslow for her blaming questions. Damn everyone for
pointing an accusing finger at the author of a fiction book. She dropped back
against the stack of pillows.
    Dare she close her eyes and try to sleep again? Would
this murder continue to haunt her? Exhaustion pulled at her mind and body, yet
she couldn’t bring herself to turn off the light and snuggle back under the
covers.
    This had been a bad idea from the start. She knew
Copper was going to be furious once he read the book. She wanted him to hurt …
and she’d succeeded. A bit of hard work stole his dream and she’d become an
instant success in the process. At what price?
    They’d been good together. They still could be good
together, if it hadn’t been for the twins. They spoiled everything. He doted on
them. They were the joy of his life and that left her where? She used to be his
baby, his only. She used to be all he ever needed or wanted. The twins ruined
everything. She wouldn’t have needed to look elsewhere if Cooper hadn’t gotten
her pregnant.
    The sound of a door clicking shut caused Megan to
tense. She reached over and turned out the light. Sitting in the darkness, her
body trembled, waiting for the next sound of an intruder in the house.
    There … she heard a creek on the stairs.