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When I pulled away she slumped over like a puppet with its strings cut.

I gazed at her for a very long time. I hated what I saw.

She looked much uglier than she had in life. Worthless. I wanted her dirty body out of my car. And yet … something. Something wasn’t right.

The fabric.

That thought screamed at me, froze my limbs. My mouth unhinged. I stared at the sack of flesh, that bent neck—and I understood.

My life opened up before me.

I reached for the glove compartment and reverently removed the black silk cloth. Suddenly it was no longer a mystical unknown. It had become my purpose.

I ran it through my hands. Closed my eyes and smelled it.

Yes. Yes.

I pushed the woman’s body up straight. Wound the cloth tight around her neck and tied a knot.

Sitting back, I surveyed my work.

No. Still not right.

My fingers found the fabric again. Over the knot I formed an awkward bow.

Again I pulled away and gazed, like an art critic before a painting.

Yes. This was it. Perfection. I felt it in my gut. She looked like a wrapped present. A gift. To me.

I smiled.

For a moment I leaned back in my seat and simply breathed.

Logistical details began to surface in my head. I forced the body down over the console, where it couldn’t be seen by anyone else. Just in case. I drove farther into the woods. Dragged her out of the car and into the trees about a hundred feet from the dirt road.

I laid her on her back, chin tilted up. My last lingering look focused on the cloth. Even though I had more, much more, I felt sorry leaving it behind.

Under the sliver moon, I made my way back to the car and drove off.

My heart floated. Relief and joy wrapped around me like an oven-warmed blanket.

On the way home I threw the woman’s purse in a dumpster behind a closed grocery store.

By the time I reached my place, I was exhausted. That night I enjoyed the best sleep I’d had in the past week. Before going to bed I felt compelled to cut another strip of the black silk.

The next day I awoke wondering if it was all a dream.

Reality hit. I had killed.

Why would I do that?

The fabric. It was the fabric.

On a gut level I knew this. Yet still that cloth sang to me. I couldn’t imagine getting rid of it.

By noon I would talk myself out of the silly notion that it was to blame.

In my car I found a couple brown hairs. Dirt on the floor. I’d just washed and vacuumed the car the day before. I washed and vacuumed it again. Removed the vacuum bag, took it across town and threw it in a dumpster.

I worried about the parking lot. Had anyone seen me pick up the woman? But I knew it had been empty.

Leaving her car there was good. Very good. That would throw detectives off the trail. They’d think she left with someone in the bar. They’d question everyone there that night. If I were investigating, that’s the first thing I’d do.

Why did I kill her?

Too much to drink at the party maybe.

No matter, it wouldn’t happen again. I’d been driven beyond myself, the victim of some sinister compulsion. But no more. Now I was in charge of my own life.

The next day I went back to work feeling normal.

On the news that night I heard the story. A couple of hikers headed up into the hills saw a flash of color some distance off the dirt road. Something made them check it out.

No report of the most crucial detail. A bow of black silk cloth with green stripes tied around the victim’s neck.

Of course I understood why.

twenty-six

As Kaitlan walked away from Chief Barlow, Craig lasered her with his eyes. Hand at her back, he steered her toward Hallie.

“Kaitlaaaan!” Hallie sang the name in that lilt of hers, flinging an arm around Kaitlan’s neck. “Thanks for coming to my party!”

Hallie was tanned and athletic, with large brown eyes. Coarsely textured and straight, her hair was highlighted in varying shades of honey blonde. She’d starting coming to Kaitlan for styling two months ago. Good thing. Her cut had been all wrong for the shape of her face.

Hallie, if you knew the trouble I was in, would you help me?

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Kaitlan managed a smile.

Craig kissed Hallie’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Sis.”

Kaitlan shuddered at the thought of those lips on her own skin.

“Thanks.” Hallie rolled her hand in the air. “Everybodyyyy! Does everyone know Kaitlan, the very best hairstylist in the world? I should know because she made me look terrific.” She pushed up one side of her hair in an animated primp.

Kaitlan heard laughs and a chorus of “Hi, Kaitlans.” She tried to nod to each person.

Hallie bounced her hand from one friend to the next, introducing each one. Patty from work and her husband, Mike. Sheila and Leslie, also from the counseling service. And their dates, somebody and somebody. Then seven or eight more people. Kaitlan tried to focus, but the faces and names started to run together.