The Killer I Know Chapter 1

Preface：（I had just finished killing someone when my detective boyfriend came home from work.

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

I looked up at him with an innocent expression.

That's right—I was the "he" my boyfriend was referring to.

My name is Claire Morrison, and I'm a psychologist.

I'm also a serial killer.）

I had timed his arrival perfectly.

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

Calmly, I smoothed the wrinkles from my clothes, let my hair down, and sprayed perfume on my wrists.

I adjusted my glasses, walked into the living room, and greeted him with a smile. "Why are you home so late?"

I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head against his chest.

He stroked my hair and said with some frustration, "He outsmarted us again."

I pressed against him, the corners of my mouth curling into a satisfied smile.

I looked up at him with a bewildered, innocent expression on my face.

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

He sat on the couch, running his hands through his hair, his face showing visible frustration.

That's right—I was the "he" my boyfriend was referring to.

My name is Claire Morrison. I'm an excellent psychologist and an accomplished serial killer.

Tonight's victim was my seventh.

As a criminal with exceptional psychological composure, my killing schedule was highly regular—I struck on the 25th of every odd-numbered month.

The first murder occurred on January 25th, the second on March 25th, and so on. There was a pattern to follow.

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

My boyfriend would never imagine that the seventh body was right beneath the bed where he slept every night, hidden in the floor compartment.

My boyfriend and I had been together for almost a year.

We first met at the site where I dumped my second victim.

His name is Daniel Rivers. He'd been assigned to the case from the first body onward.

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

I claimed to have seen the person dumping the body and was brought to the station for a statement.

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

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

All of this was part of my careful design.

Because the most dangerous place is often the safest.

The feeling of being "hidden in plain sight" was exhilarating.

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

Daniel would never figure out, even if he thought about it until his head exploded, that the serial killer who had tormented him for a year was sleeping right beside him.