Page 212 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

Close enough to smell her perfume when she passed.

Close enough to feel her voice in my chest when she read her statements.

I turned down every new case just to stay in that courtroom.

Weeks went by and the trial ended.

But sentencing was scheduled a month later.

So I came back.

When the bastard heard he’d never be a free man again, he snapped.

Threw his lawyer and came straight for her.

He was big. Angry.

Didn’t fucking matter.

I was over the barrier before the bailiff even moved taking him down with one punch.

She clung to me afterward.

Both hands gripping mine like I was something solid.

Something safe.

But that’s not what sealed it.

It was his wife.

The way she looked at Poppy.

Hatred.

TheI’ll-finish-this-myselfkind.

I’ve seen that look before.

I followed her for three days before the woman made her move.

Poppy walked into a store, and that bitch followed.

Her hand was buried deep in her purse. Except she paused. Right in the middle of the parking lot, she didn’t follow through.

She turned around and went back to her car.

But it wasn’t hesitation.

It was strategy.

She was still going to do something, she just didn’t want to do it there.

I grabbed a shopping cart and rammed it into her bumper like some clueless idiot.

When she rolled down the window to yell, I knocked her out cold.

And then I checked the purse.

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