Black Orchid Girls (Detective Amanda Steele)

ONE

She was going to die. Today.

Restraint had been shown for far too long. Now was the time for action. And the observer was ready.

She’d be easy to find. She loved the trail that cut through the woods and dipped down to the Potomac River, winding alongside it like a twirling ribbon. The observer had followed her there before and watched from a distance. This morning it would just be the two of them—up close and personal.

Privacy, solitude. Exactly what was needed.

Looking on from this vantage point, tucked within a thick copse of trees, she appeared nervous and cautious. But it was much earlier than when she normally came here. The sun had yet to wake up, leaving the woods mostly in darkness but for the fine tendrils of moonlight that reached through the towering canopy like fingers.

The girl kept looking over her shoulder, and she raised her flashlight at every small noise—an animal scurrying in the underbrush, chattering squirrels, squawking blue jays. She would startle, then freeze. Seconds later, she would look around again, sweeping the beam of her flashlight over the area.

Eventually, seemingly satisfied that she was safe, she set her light on the ground with her backpack and crouched down, her hands busy with her findings on the water’s edge.

All was still. And calm.

Until the observer started to approach and stepped on a small twig, causing it to snap.

The girl snatched her flashlight, bolted to her feet, and spun around. “Oh.” That was all she said as she lowered her light.

The moon’s glow put her in a spotlight. Her milky-white complexion, her flawless skin. She knew no enemies and feared no one. She was the princess in the ivory tower who had been handed everything and looked down on others.

The observer stepped toward her, slowly and mindfully, imagining that otherwise the prey might catch a whiff of danger and run off like a jackrabbit. That would be a most undesirable consequence. Running wasn’t enjoyable—at all—but it turned out the fear of her fleeing was unnecessary.

She let the observer get close, trusting from a blind ignorance.

In one swift and fluid movement, the observer pulled the blade from a pocket and thrust it into her gut.

She clutched her stomach and stared with bulging eyes. Shock washed over her expression, her mind trying to register what had just happened. Her mouth fell open, and she let out a feral scream as she turned to run.

The observer grabbed her arm and spun her around and proceeded to thrust the knife into her torso repeatedly, counting each stab. One, two, three…

With each penetration, the observer stirred to life. This was right—everything about it. They never should have waited so long to satisfy this craving.

The girl clung to the observer, confusion and disbelief mingling in her eyes. The observer felt nothing but justification and continued stabbing until her screams fell mute and her body collapsed to the ground.

In that moment, all went extremely still. Silent.

The observer took a deep breath and closed their eyes, mentally processing what had taken place. They had taken a life, and it hadn’t been that bad at all. In fact, it was rather liberating.

But there was still work to do.

The observer got to work on preparing her body. It had to be presented just so.