Racist bitch, I thought viciously. I wasn’t going to burst into tears, but I might burst into flames. I wanted to drive at top speed, I wanted to scream, I wanted to crash.

There. I spotted a haven, a ladies’ room, and veered into it. Before I got behind the wheel, I needed to splash some water on my face, calm down. I couldn’t lose control, but I couldn’t hold it all in.

The restroom was empty, but I didn’t want to run the faucet. I didn’t want water cooling my face. A lone coffee cup smudged with peony-pink lipstick sat on the marble counter top. Without hesitation, I snatched it up and hurled it at the wall. It caught the edge of a brass sconce and shattered, spraying bits of china everywhere. And before I could catch my breath, from behind me flew another cup, exploding like the first.

I whipped around.

In the doorway stood a woman with curly red hair pulled back into a loose knot and her hand just lowering from the cup she’d thrown.

She looked familiar, I knew I’d seen her somewhere, but in my shock, all I could do was gape.

In a husky voice, she said, “Nobody should have to bust shit up alone.”

C2C TRANSCRIPT

4

Helen: We’ve talked before about how underrated women are as killers.

Julia: It’s true. I mean, there’s this idea of being nurturing—

Helen: Or just not as physically strong—

Julia: That poison is a woman’s weapon—

Helen: Or a coward’s. Like you have to be brave to shoot or whack someone?

Julia: I think only the Mafia whacks people.

Helen: But the truth is there are plenty of examples of female serial killers—Belle Gunness, Myra Hindley, Aileen Wuornos, Genene Jones. And just like Ted Bundy or Dennis Rader, they were hidden in plain sight. If they had acted like serial killers—

Julia: Whatever that means—

Helen: Then they wouldn’t have had so many victims and they would have been caught sooner. Nannie Doss, Lydia Sherman, and Belle Gunness were active for over a decade each. From everything I’ve read, nobody was even looking for a serial killer linked to any of the murders they’d committed. They were just living their lives. That’s the thing: female serial killers—like all serial killers—have to blend into their community to escape detection. These women have friends, husbands, neighbors, even kids.

Julia: Serial killers, they’re “just like us.” Creepiest new feature in Us Weekly.

Helen: And the serial killer we’re talking about today was no different. Family, friends, neighbors—she had it all. And then she met Kacy Tremaine.

CHAPTER

5

THE WAITING ROOM was nothing like the one I’d been to in New Jersey.