Hello all! So in light of the new CASTLE promo debuting, I thought I'd give you guys a little taste of the next story coming up - it's a real humdinger of a case when a predator is out on bail and back to the old habits. This will be the first part of the first chapter in the new story and yes I will write a 'Baby Weaver's first year' too; this will be a parallel timeline. Enjoy the teaser!
She was a perfect specimen.
Not too tall, not to short, even in the high-heels. Tight calves, jelly thighs. Walks heel-heavy, but also in good shape since the jelly parts under the cocktail waitress uniform didn't jiggle the way flab did.
Brown hair. Even better. The killer didn't want the added expense and hassle of a dye job. Fewer scraps to tidy up when the work was done. Although...was it really work when it was so much damn fun?
Scapel in hand. Quickly, quietly, The Silent Panther. That was such a better name than the one those idiots had made up in the press. The Great Pretender. Pfft, yeah right. Was it a pretend body that went to the morgue for autopsy? Or fake blood the police found, splattered hither and yon, pretend blood cleaned from the blade? No, no, and no.
It was very real.
The brunette walked passed the alley entrance, stopping to wait for a cab.
'Louise, you better not blow those tips in Vegas next week! Save some for Missy's bachelorette in two months!'
A taxi farted and belched to a stop at the curb. Thump. Flesh on glass - a hand beating on the window.
'Damn, there's not enough room for everyone!'
'It's okay Tahlia! I'll walk down to the subway!'
Stupid move, brownie.
'You sure?'
Yes, please be sure.
'Yeah, I need some fresh air anyways!'
Oh so delectably stupid!
Louise Kingman watched her friends zip away into the misty night as she shoulder her purse, hoping the rain didn't start up whiel she was waiting for another cab. Louise Kingman, age twenty-three, invincible because she was twenty-three, shifted her aching feet as she looked up and down East Eleventh Street. The skyscraper heels she wore working at Q3X made her feet hurt like a bitch but they were totes worth it when her ass and legs looked so hot; that made drunk yuppy chauvinists tip more and that meant bills paid, cat fed, travel funds secured.
Instead of the pains in her arches she focused on V-Day in two weeks. Her friends teased her about the Vegas blowout she'd finally saved up enough for, but she wasn't going just for the carnival-on-acid getaway feel, there was a rich cultural history there too. Perfect to research the travel books she wanted to write.
She heard a small noise behind her near the trash cans, sighed. Rats paid her no mind at all, it seemed, just out hnting for a midnight snack.
Then she felt it - the hand on her mouth with the sharp biting nails, the cold keen-edged steel against the pulse of her throat. Breath, warm and gentle on her skin, intimate as a lover. She tried to open her mouth to scream but the nails bit into her cheek.
'A little advice Louise, girl to girl,'
Louise's blood went ice cold as she heard the voice. Soft, alto.
Female.
'Never walk alone at night. You might meet a bad guy.'