Psychocriminalist

I had just finished killing someone when my police detective boyfriend came home from work.

With a hint of complaint in his voice, he said, "He outsmarted us again."

I looked up at him with innocent eyes.

That's right—I was the "he" my boyfriend was talking about.

My name is Chloe Norton, and I'm a psychologist.

I'm also a serial killer.

I had timed his arrival home perfectly.

I'd just wrapped the body in plastic sheeting and stuffed it into the hidden compartment beneath the bedroom floor when I heard the sound of keys in the lock.

I calmly smoothed out the wrinkles in my clothes, let my hair down, picked up the perfume from the table, and sprayed it twice on my wrists.

I put on my glasses, walked to the living room, and greeted him with a smile: "Why are you home so late~"

I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head against his chest.

He stroked my hair, his voice tinged with frustration: "He outsmarted us again."

Leaning against him, the corners of my mouth turned up in a satisfied smile.

I looked up at him with innocent eyes, my face showing confusion.

He let out a long breath and said, "Based on his previous pattern, he should have struck again today."

He ran his hands through his hair and sat on the couch, his face clearly showing frustration.

That's right—I was the "he" my boyfriend was talking about.

My name is Chloe Norton. I'm an excellent psychologist and an accomplished serial killer.

Tonight's victim was my seventh.

As a perpetrator with extremely high psychological fortitude, my crimes followed a precise pattern: I struck on the 25th of every odd-numbered month.

The first crime occurred on January 25th, the second on March 25th, and so on—a traceable pattern.

I would dispose of the body three days after each killing, and today was the 25th.

My boyfriend could never have imagined that the seventh body was right beneath the bed where he slept every night.

I'd been with my boyfriend for almost a year.

We first met at the disposal site of the second body.

His name is Derek Lane. The case had been assigned to him since the first body appeared.

He was called a prodigy in law enforcement. I wanted to see just how brilliant this prodigy really was.

Using the pretext of having seen the person disposing of the body, I was brought to the station to give a statement.

This move not only established me as a witness with a clean, transparent background, but also brought us together and allowed our relationship to develop.

By the time the third case occurred, we'd already been together for a month.

And all of this was carefully orchestrated by me.

Because the most dangerous place is the safest place.

The feeling of "hiding in plain sight" was exhilarating.

Nothing could clear suspicion better than being close to the detective investigating the case.

Derek would never figure out, even if he thought until his head exploded, that the serial killer who'd been tormenting him for a year was sleeping right beside him.