11:59

The clock read 11:59. Almost midnight, he thought, as he held the photograph in his shaky hands. The numbers were the colors of rubies; a pair of snake eyes burning an image in his mind. With slight hesitation, he took a shot of whiskey, perspiration streaming down his pale face. "Did she ever mention murder?" Her words, much like his past, haunted him. For a moment he sat in confusion, replaying the conversation he had with Detective O'Hara.  It didn't seem to make sense. She had posed as a seductress; a woman seeking his sexual desire. He never got the impression she was in law enforcement, but then again, why would he? 12:05. 

****

His blood lingered on her fingertips as she removed the leather gloves from her hands. His blood smelled of iron; inducing a wave of nausea that nearly made her collapse. He had not been the first person she killed, but the act in itself, made her sick. Upon removing her last item of clothing, she walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. As steam filled the tiny room, she began to tremble. She had never imagined herself as a killer; fighting for survival, concealing her identity and everything she once was. Why did I have to get involved she whispered to herself, as she stepped into the shower.

****

"Do you think he knows that it is a set-up?" he asked, taking a pull from his Budweiser. "I don't think so," she replied, confidently. "I don't think he has any clue. He is so intoxicated with the idea of finding her that he will believe anything. Stupid, if you ask me." she laughed as she applied a second coat of lipstick. "I hope your right Doll." he scoffed once again taking a pull from his bottle. "I ain't prepared to start getting too involved in this mess. I got a wife at home." he suggested, as he mentally undressed the waitress with his eyes. "Oh ya? well I'm sure she would appreciate you checking her out." she gushed taking a sip of her wine, motioning to the waitress for another. 

{we.heart.it}