Page 54 of Nothing Hiding

The woman whimpered, struggling to break free from her restraints, but he knew it was pointless. The ropes were expertly tied. He’d practiced every part of what he needed to do, knots included.

Planning ahead was important, and failing to plan could be fatal.

Sighing sadly, he thought back to the moment, back in that archaeological dig years ago, when tragedy had struck. He’d been a normal person back then. Well, no, not really, he acknowledged. He hadn’t been normal. He didn’t even understand the word. But back then, he'd been able to hide within society's confines.

His wife had known the truth, and he thought that she'd been becoming afraid of him. That was his impression, anyway. He'd seen it in her demeanor, in the way she spoke to him, the way she responded after seeing him react to others.

What Isabelle had never realized was that he would never, ever have hurt her. He loved her.

And then, disaster. She'd been working on an area below the cliff face. It hadn’t been correctly examined for dangers. In a tragic moment, a large rock that was balanced out of sight at the top of the slope had fallen as a section crumbled. He'd watched helplessly as the love of his life was crushedinstantly under its weight. One minute, she’d been carefully dusting away a fragment of bone. And the next, she was gone. The massive weight had crushed her skull and broken her body.

He'd been in agony as he grieved. For days, weeks, life had been a blur.

And then, out of it, clarity had emerged.

It was the great circle of stones that had taken her, and they’d sent him a message. That he needed to become their servant and give them sacrifices in the form of human lives.

The stones had claimed their first blood.

It was only then, bereaved and ripped apart, that he'd realized the sacrifices he needed to make.

The stones needed blood, and what they didn't get, they would take. It was his duty to seize these victims, to somehow preserve them when he displayed them, just as Stonehenge itself had been preserved.

He’d chosen the wax technique, with gray eyeshadow on their faces as a way to preserve their beauty while paying homage to the great circle, and the stones had seemed to like that well enough.

And now, his mission was on its way. He had carefully planned the sites. Where his victims were left was important. The sequence and spacing of the sacrifices would appease the great stones.

Now, though, that would need to change, and he knew the stones would understand why.

As for who he chose? So far, it had depended on who caught his eye. The minute he sensed someone who held that power, he had to have them.

Three times it had happened. And he believed that this was the fourth time. It was only now that he was in a quandary, realizing he’d made a mistake. He had never deviated from his plan before, and now, he felt lost.

He tried so hard to be present when every victim was discovered. He'd been bold enough to jostle the au pair in the exhibition hall. He'd been waiting with birding binoculars in Hyde Park. In Oxford Street, he'd sat in a sandwich shop, with a view of the bus stop where his victim had been placed, and it was there he'd seen her arrive to look at the body. The woman he had to sacrifice, urgently.

Her energy had been breathtaking. He'd felt it shimmering off her. Her honey blonde hair, her slender build, and the fire in her eyes.

The stones were crying for her blood, and he could hear them. But how to do this?

He'd taken what was supposed to be the next victim, the one he now had in the van. And he'd thought it would be enough, that the stones would be satisfied, that his own anxiety would lessen.

Now, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he opened his phone and checked the map and his messages. Perhaps she could, still, be useful somehow, this woman he'd taken, for whom he'd had such high hopes.

The woman continued to struggle against her restraints, but he paid her no attention. His mind was consumed with thoughts of the great stones and what he needed to do to appease them. The plan he could make.

"It feels like stepping into a maze," he told her with some amusement. "That's where I feel I am right now. I need to find its center, and you've got to help."

Could his connections help? He hoped so.

Earlier, on the dark web, he had put a message out that would be readable to the chosen few who, like him, worshiped the stones.

He quickly stated his dilemma and asked for advice. Of course, he was careful to disguise his identity because he couldn't give away who he was and what he was planning. Not even to the brotherhood he had never met, although he knew who some of them were. Police eyes were everywhere.

Replies trickled in, and he read them with interest, sitting in the darkening alleyway, the only light coming from his screen.

Now, here was a helpful one. And this man had already agreed to spread an alternative version if it was needed. Others had agreed to do the same. They were working with him in his plans, helping him, even though they didn’t know who he was.

"The stones deserve the best. You can't give them second best." That was their overwhelming message, and now, with their willingness to help, he could see a way forward.

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