Page 5 of No Mercy In Red

I sighed dramatically before taking a large gulp of my beer, “Fine, but if I end up on a Netflix True Crime special, I’m going to fucking haunt you.”

He grinned. “Noted.”

And just like that, I somehow found myself agreeing to the most ridiculous favour of my life. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 4

Max

Isighed, rubbing my hands over my face before finally forcing myself out of bed. I chose to be the one to carry on my father’s torch, so moping about it wasn’t an option. My routine was always the same after a kill. Wake up, get coffee, post the confession. The café was the safest place for that last part – the busiest one in town, full of people who wouldn’t look twice at me hunched over my laptop. I was always too paranoid about doing it at home in case some genuine tracked my IP address or something. I wasn’t a genius, I didn’t know how all of that worked, so I was as safe as I could be. Burner phone, burner laptop, and a busy café. It had worked so far.

Throwing on a pair of fleece-lined sweats and my favourite black hoodie, I glanced in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes were getting worse. Winter always made the nightmares come back stronger, maybe it was because the anniversary was coming up in a few weeks. Maybe it was because, no matter how many men I buried, it never felt like enough, or maybe, I just needed a really strong drink, preferably with alcohol in it. I grabbed my keys and slipped out of the door; my mind already focused on the next move. Because whilst I had done my father proud last night, the work was never finished, and it never would be.

I decided to jog down to the café instead of driving because I needed the fresh air, and honestly, I just needed to feel something. The rush ofthe freezing air against my face, and the burning in my lungs was one of the only things that reminded me that i was still alive. Jogging really helped me clear my head after a kill. I arrived at Melinda’s Café, the little bell above the door chimed as I stepped inside, the warm air washing over me in an instant. The scent of coffee and baked goods caressing me like a warm hug. I inhaled deeply, sighing as my favourite scent hit me. I always loved the smell of freshly brewed coffee. It reminded me of my dad, wherever dad was, a cup of coffee was never far away, the scent had always lingered on him. It became a comfort for me without even knowing it, until he was gone. I closed my eyes for a second, inhaling deeply, the inhale bringing a fleeting memory of his smile, his warmth, a whisper of his presence just here, lingering in a place he never even set foot. He always talked shit about coffee places, claiming he could make a ‘good ol’ cup of joe’ better than anyone else.

“Hey max honey, how are you? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Mel’s voice carried across the café to me, cutting through my thoughts. I turned toward the counter, to find her beaming at me, wiping her hands on her apron. Mel had owned this place since before I was born. She had the kind of presence that made you feel at home. In her late fifties, her silver-streaked hair was always tied back into a bun, her deep brown eyes surrounded by smile lines. Mel was basically family to me now, and as close as I had ever come to truly having a mother.

“Hey Mel,” I smiled as I made my way over to the counter. “Don’t be so dramatic, I was here just a few days ago. But work has had me swamped.”

She clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “Well, you should be here every day! You work too hard, sweetheart, you need to take care of yourself.”

I let out a soft laugh, knowing she had no idea just how right she was. “I’ll try, I promise. How are you?” I asked, “And how’s Jez, is he still milking the leg injury?”

Mel rolled her eyes, though affection danced across her expression with a small smile tugging at the corner of her pink painted mouth, “Oh, you know how he is. The damn fools been acting like he fought off a bear instead of tripping over his own feet at dance class.”

I snorted, only Jez could turn something like ballroom dancing into a near-death experience.

“The usual?” She asked, already moving toward the coffee machine.

“You know me too well.” I smiled.

“Go take a seat, sweetie. This ones on the house.”

I gave her a grateful smile before heading to my usual table in the back, the one that kept me tucked away from prying eyes. As much as I loved Mel, I wasn’t just here for coffee and a light-hearted catch up, I had work to do. I pulled out the burner phone I used for recording the confessions, keeping it shielded from view. My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before I powered it on, a quiet hum of guilt settling over me as the screen flickered to life. Not guilt for what I had done, but for the families that would receive this email. I always kept my face out of the footage, but I made sure Craigs confession was clear. The truth, in his own worlds, laid bare for the people had had hurt and for the ones who had turned a blind eye to his crimes. I pulled out the laptop and connected the phone, sending over the video to a password protected file. Plugging in my headphones, I pulled the laptop closer to start working. The video played once before I edited it, removing any trace of my own voice, meticulously ensuring that I couldn’t be traced, that my voice wasn’t even a whisper in the background. I attached the file to a fake email, adding recipient after recipient, making sure I added everyone that I could from his files, his victims, his parents, everyone who was involved.

Subject:Craigs Confession.

I hit send, but the weight in my chest didn’t lift, it never did. Because I wasn’t naïve enough to think that this would bring closure, not to me, not to his victims, not really. But it wassomething,and the truth deserved to be seen, his confessions needed to be heard, even if it came too late for justice in a courtroom.

Mel set my coffee and bagel in front of me, starling me out of my thoughts. I quickly closed down the tabs on the laptop, plastering on a smile as I plucked one of the headphones from my ear.

“You look like you need a vacation.” She said, eyeing me knowingly.

“You have no idea.” I sighed, taking a sip of my coffee. The warmth spread through me, the sweet taste of caramel reminding me of the mocking words my father used to say about how ‘coffee should be black and black only, adding all this extra shit makes it a coffee flavoured milkshake.’ I smiled slightly into the cup at the memory.

“You ever think about it?” She asked, sliding into the seat across from me. “Getting out of this town and starting fresh somewhere new?”

I let out a soft laugh, “Somewhere warm, preferably, away from all this cold.”Away from this life.

Mel smiled, but there was something thoughtful behind it. “You deserve to be happy, Max. You know that, right?”

I swallowed, forcing the words I wanted to say back down. Happy. I didn’t think that was an option anymore.

Instead, I nodded, taking another sip of coffee. “Yeah, I know. I am happy Mel, just overworked and underpaid.”

But we both knew I wasn’t telling the truth. I knew after my first kill, that I was broken beyond repair by my ex-boyfriend, the man that broke and abused me so badly. The man that was the reason my father was dead. Only now, I wasn’t broken in a useless, defenceless way, I wasbroken in a way that made me strong. Because whilst I knew I wasn’t happy living this life, doing what I was doing, killing these men brought me a sense of peace. I guess that kind of did make me a blood thirsty bitch after all.

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