The acid bored deeper. The depth of the expanding hole allowed him to empty the last of the vial. He stood back to admire his handwork, or perhaps to give the camera a better view. Teri could not escape into death or shock. The burning liquid worked swiftly but Kelly felt as if the woman perished over days. As the acid ate through deeper layers of tissue, the smoke transformed into a red-stained mist. It hung over the bed like a Satanic fog pumped from below. Teri lost control of her bladder and urine drenched the sheets. She continued to thrash but she was losing strength. Kelly knew what kind of end was inevitable for the woman, but when it came it was still a shock.

The acid ate into the woman’s heart. A thick spurt of blood squeezed from her chest and splattered the bed. Three times her heart beat, three times the sheets were soaked with gore. Finally Teri gave a convulsed heave and lay still.

The man stared down at her for a long time. He must have come; he had lost his erection. Slowly, he turned and reached for the video camera. The picture went dead.

Kelly lowered her head and tried to hide her tears. Slate gave her a break. He turned off the screen. But five murders he’d said. She had four more to watch.

Kelly sat for a few minutes before she gestured for Slate to continue. The next four murders were almost exact copies of the first. The women were pretty, and every one was rich. They wanted sex and he obliged them with great skill. But the location of each killing varied. Two occurred during the day. Kelly thought she heard the ocean in the background of one. The women called the man different names: Jerry, Frank, Bob, Charles. They loved his cock. They all died with holes in their hearts.

His speeches were almost identical as well. Kelly noted slight differences. She needed to study a transcript of each of his words.

Slate turned off the screen and opened the curtains. Kelly took a few deep breaths and sought to compose herself. Slate left the room for a moment and returned with a pen and notepad for her. He had his own stack of notes. He sat down across from her and his expression was grim.

“Tough way to die,” he said.

She shook her head. “Jesus Christ.”

“These killings occurred in different parts of the country: California, New York, Florida, Texas. The last in Colorado. The press has reported each murder, but does not know they are the product of a single serial killer. They don’t know what links the victims, nor any other specifics. The victims—as you’ve probably surmised—were the wives of prominent citizens. Two were married to CEOs of major companies. One was the wife of an East Coast judge. In each case the husband was the first to learn about the murder of his wife.”