Her Broken Wings by D.K. Hood
Forty-Five
There was one benefit of starting work at daybreak because a man got to finish early and most days he liked to be back in town before five. At this end of town, side roads led to a row of small businesses. As the need for more retail outlets grew, many houses had transformed into stores overnight. The beauty parlor, a sturdy brick dwelling, had at one time housed the local bank manager; now it spewed chemical odors in great clouds. In truth, he’d located the store by its smell. He’d been watching the movements of Ann Turner, one of the local hair stylists, for some time. It seemed she had a reputation for being manipulative. The talk around town from the womenfolk was that the small, cute, bubbly girl had a smile for any man who looked her way. She was the dangerous kind, the type that thought nothing of breaking up a happy marriage for a few nights of fun. She used her female charms like a siren and lured married men to their downfall. He chuckled, imagining his hands closing tightly around her soft, smooth neck.
Ann, like most people, followed the same daily routine to and from work. A little after five, most of the hair stylists would leave for the day, and Ann would carry the garbage to the dumpster in the back alley and then head for her car. She always parked in the same place, behind the bank in the next lot. The owner of the beauty parlor would lock up, get into her vehicle parked outside, and drive away.
The moment the owner’s vehicle pulled away, he pulled on his gloves, made sure his hoodie was down over his face, and strolled along the sidewalk. The road off Main was quiet, and a swirling mist crawled across the blacktop, covering him to his knees. Dressed all in black, he could move through the fading light and blend into the shadows. It was as if he’d become the mist, sliding into spaces and then vanishing like a ghost. No traffic passed him, and one quick glance around told him that when he’d slipped into the alley, nobody had seen him. He blended into the shadows and a chilling calmness replaced the rush of anticipating a kill. In this state, he could wait here, hardly breathing for hours if necessary. He didn’t have to wait long in the garbage-tainted air before she came down the steps, purse over one arm and juggling three huge black garbage bags. When she set them aside, he made out her pink leather jacket, short skirt, and black stockings disappearing into pink cowboy boots. Dressed for me to kill. He waited for her to open the dumpster, and as she went up on the tips of her toes to toss the bags inside, he stepped behind her. “Hello, Ann.”
“Oh, you scared me.” Ann’s eyes widened in surprise. “Do I know you?” She turned to face him her eyes bright with expectation.
He didn’t reply but grasped her by the throat, lifting her off her feet to meet his eyes. Watching their expressions was all part of the thrill. She looked startled and then alarmed as panic filled her eyes. She raked at his hands, trying to break his grip, but he had her. She wasn’t getting away. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish tossed onto the riverbank but no sound came out.
It always surprised him how long it took to strangle someone. It wasn’t a fast death. It was up close and personal. He could feel the life leave their bodies. Luckily, the element of surprise usually robbed people of their first instinct to survive. Most women would go for his hands in a feeble attempt to break his grasp. It was a futile move. If they dragged his pinky fingers back, maybe he’d release his grip, but he couldn’t understand why they never went for his eyes or at least tried to knee him in the privates. At least Ruby had tried to attack him, lashing out with her nails before he’d subdued her.
He squeezed harder and smiled as the blood vessels exploded like little red stars in her eyes, and finally the life left her in a rush of urine. He dropped her, disgusted, and went to the faucet to wash any trace from his boots. As he walked away, he glanced behind him but all he saw in the alley was a pile of trash. He’d forgotten about her already.