Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            It wasn’t the dye’s fault. It had done exactly what was advertised. His hair and scruff were now Deep Dark Brown. Just like the guy on the box. So why do I look so bad?

            He didn’t consider himself a vain man, but this was truly awful. “I look dead.”

            Which was true. His skin was pale, his face gaunt. It hadn’t shown so much when his hair was blond, but it sure did now. His cheekbones jutted out in sharp relief, his dark eyes looking . . . Dark. Like black-hole dark.

            Some people were not meant to go dark. He snorted. With their hair, anyway.

            But, he thought objectively, he didn’t look like himself anymore, which was the effect he’d been going for. He trimmed his scruff and slid on the glasses that he’d bought on a whim.

            “Not bad.” He stroked the edges of the goatee that was the only thing that looked better dark. The dye had made his blond scruff a little denser, and he’d been able to remove the stains left on his skin with some rubbing alcohol he’d found in the Smythes’ medicine cabinet. The glasses were an excellent touch, drawing attention to the end of his nose where he settled them.

            Grooming completed, he cleaned up his mess and bagged it. He’d noticed the neighbors putting all their trash cans out the night before and he hadn’t heard the rumble of the garbage truck. He’d toss the bag into one of their cans on his way out. No way was he leaving any of his personal trash around any more bodies.

            Nor would he leave any more extraneous bodies. That was what had led to Ephraim’s capture. I have to stop killing people and leaving them to be found.

            He wasn’t sure what he himself could have done differently, though. Nurse Gaynor had deserved to die. She’d broken the trust of her patients and her employers. She’d been extortable.

            Mrs. Ellis had also deserved it. She’d been a nosy busybody who’d probably never been told no in her life. This was what happened when women weren’t kept on a leash and busy doing chores. They got gossipy and peeked in your windows and played armchair detective.

            Mr. Smythe, now . . . DJ did regret having to kill him. But if the man had only minded his own business, he would still be alive. Storing his body in the freezer had been necessary, because he could no longer count on Kowalski for body disposal.

            Kowalski had to have some kind of chipper shredder, because the bodies simply disappeared. Even when there had been half a dozen rival gang members dead on the ground. He’d always wondered where Kowalski put them.

            He wondered how long it would take for Mrs. Smythe to think of looking in the freezer for her husband once she got home. Maybe he should move some of that frozen meat out of the chest into the kitchen freezer. That way she wouldn’t need to open the chest for a while.

            It would give him time, especially if he hadn’t finished this by Tuesday when Mrs. Smythe came home. Luckily, she hadn’t called yet, opting instead to send a few texts every day. He’d noticed a few new texts pop up on Nelson’s locked phone screen that morning and needed to try to answer them, or the lady of the house might ditch her trip and come home early.

            DJ hoped Smythe’s face hadn’t gotten freezer burn. He wasn’t sure if it would still unlock his phone if there were ice crystals forming. Hopefully it wouldn’t matter, because hopefully he was getting out of here sooner rather than later.

            He’d wasted too much time watching video that was after the fact. He had added the camera to Smythe’s Wi-Fi, which enabled him to watch the feed in real time when he wasn’t physically in the bedroom, but that was still playing defense. It was time to get ahead of the power curve.

            After a good night’s sleep, he’d realized that he had a valuable piece of information: Daisy Dawson’s place of employment. Everyone else had either hidden their addresses behind fucking corporations or, like the Sokolovs, had round-the-clock security.

            Daisy worked at a radio station in Midtown Sacramento. She was on the air right now, so she was there. Her show was over at ten, so he needed to get his ass in gear.

            He was going to shoot her as she left work. With any luck, he’d kill her, and then all he’d need to do was pick off Gideon, Mercy, and Amos at the funeral. And if she survived, Gideon would rush to the hospital. I can follow him home from there.

            Then, eventually, the prick would visit his sister. And then I’ll have them both.