He brought over the stepladder, gave her some water, then carried the ladder and chair back to their place. He always carried them upon his departure and dragged them upon his arrival. There was no practical reason that he needed to move them to the far corner; obviously, nobody was going to disturb them while he was gone. He just liked the awful sound they made as they scraped across the concrete. It was a wonderfully unpleasant way to let his girls know that he was ready to watch them.

Ken took one last long whiff. He was a little ashamed of the way he enjoyed the room's smell. Death, vomit, piss...even a savage serial killer should find the aroma unpleasant. Not him. He'd bottle that scent and wear it as cologne if he could get away with it. Use it to season his food.

When he ran out of cages and had to empty the first one to make room for another victim, he'd probably hose down the floor as well. For now, everything that came out of the women stayed on the concrete.

He waved to Olivia, even though he was behind her and she couldn't see him. He waved to the corpses as well, enjoying the thought that their spirits might be forever trapped in their shriveled dead bodies and that they could see him waving to them. He opened the door and left the room.

Ken shut the door and entered the four-digit passcode to lock it.

He walked up the stairs and entered a different four-digit passcode to unlock the door at the top. He emerged into the main part of the house, shutting and locking the door behind him.

It was a small house in an isolated area. You could see the neighbors off in the distance, but not hear them unless they were having a really loud party. Of course, the basement was completely soundproofed. As long as the door to the cage room and the door at the top of the stairs were both closed, a brand new healthy victim could be shrieking at the top of her lungs, and somebody standing where Ken was right now wouldn't hear a thing. Top-notch soundproofing. Not cheap.

The smell was easier to block. The basement was sealed up like a non-working freezer filled with rotting carcasses.

Of course, Ken couldn't afford to rent a second home like this on his own. It was a joint venture with his buddy Darrell. Ken handled all of the paperwork, making sure the rental couldn't be traced to either of them, and Darrell paid most of the rent. Ken got the basement. Darrell, who needed a place to screw his three mistresses, got the upstairs.