The Killer I Know Chapter 4

On the morning of the 27th, social media was full of people mocking the police for being fooled by the killer.

"Told you it was fake. Can't believe the cops fell for it."

"Still haven't caught him. What are we paying you for?"

"Please let school start again. Whose brat is this?"

...

"I heard from some people that the serial killer only targets 'bad people.'"

I was scrolling through the comments when suddenly a voice came from behind me.

"The age when typing isn't a crime, huh."

The voice was heavy with resignation.

I turned and hugged Daniel's waist. "They're just keyboard warriors. Ignore them."

Just then, his phone rang.

I heard him say to the person on the other end, "I'll be right there."

"Claire, I need to go out. Don't wait for me for lunch."

"Okay."

From receiving the call to leaving took less than a minute.

Perfect for my purposes.

I pulled the body out from under the floorboards and looked at the victim's purple lips, a satisfied smile crossing my face.

Number Seven had died from suffocation by plastic wrap.

She probably wasn't dead yet when we went to sleep last night.

I pressed lightly on the body—it had already stiffened, and the body had gone cold.

I couldn't help but smile.

"This way of dying must be quite unexpected for you," I said to the corpse.

I have a habit of giving "them" numbers.

The one before me would be called Number Seven. Just that simple.

Fortunately, Number Seven was a slender woman, so this would save me some effort.

I packed the body into a large blue rectangular storage bin, struggling to fit her inside.

I stood up, surveying the box, a smile playing at my lips. "Perfect fit. Just right."