As the town began to stir awake, so did the killer. He rose from his bed and stretched, feeling the satisfaction of another night's work well done. After a brief exercise routine, he moved to the bathroom, where he took a long, contemplative shower. As the hot water cascaded over him, he inspected the scratch on his arm left by Lucy, one of his victims. He smirked, considering it a trophy, then dismissed the thought and continued his routine.
In the kitchen, the killer, Mr. Cross, cooked a breakfast of fried eggs and bacon. He poured himself a glass of wine, savoring the luxurious taste, and flipped on the TV. The news anchor's grave tone caught his attention.
"This morning, another two bodies have been discovered. A young couple was found brutally murdered on the corner of Fifth and Elm Street, the latest victims in a series of gruesome killings. Both were stabbed multiple times, and their limbs were severed. Police have no leads, and the killer remains at large. Citizens are advised to stay vigilant. Our thoughts are with the families of the victims."
Mr. Cross smirked as he changed the channel to cartoons, amused by the chaos he had caused. He ate his breakfast with a sense of triumph, knowing he had once again eluded capture. After finishing, he washed his plate, brushed his teeth, and got dressed for work. His morning routine was meticulous, designed to blend seamlessly into his suburban neighborhood.
Stepping outside, he greeted his old neighbor with a warm smile. "Good morning, Mrs. Califar," he said cheerfully.
"Oh, good morning, Mr. Cross. Off to work?" she replied with a friendly nod.
"Where else?" he laughed. "Any news from your son?"
"Oh yes, he's very busy, but he still makes time to write. It's a comfort," she said, beaming with pride.
"That's wonderful to hear. The neighborhood has been quieter since he left, hasn't it?"
"Yes, indeed," she agreed."And Mr. Califar?"
"He's sleeping in today. No work for him," she chuckled.
"Good for him. I wish I could have a lazy morning now and then," he said wistfully. "Well, I'd better get going. See you later, Mrs. Califar."
"Take care, Mr. Cross."
He continued his walk, exchanging pleasantries with other neighbors, his demeanor betraying nothing of his dark secret. He stopped at a local café, where the barista greeted him warmly.
"Good morning, Mr. Cross. The usual?"
"Good morning. Yes, please," he replied, taking a seat. He awaited his hot strawberry tea with two spoons of sugar and a spoon of honey, along with a chocolate croissant. "How's business?"
"Same as always," the barista said, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Did you hear about the murders? Another couple found dead. It's terrifying to think there's a serial killer in our town."
Mr. Cross feigned shock. "That's horrifying. Third time in a month, isn't it? And still no leads?"
"Exactly. It's unbelievable. Let's hope the police catch the bastard soon."
"We can only hope. It's scary to think someone like that is walking among us," Mr. Cross said, shaking his head. "Thank you for the tea and croissant. Have a good day."
"You too. Stay safe."
He settled into his desk, ready to start another day of mundane work. As he logged into his computer, his mind briefly wandered back to the couple he had killed the night before. He relished the memory, the adrenaline rush, and the sense of power. But he quickly refocused on his work, maintaining the perfect balance between his two lives.
Passing by the local park, he noticed children playing and parents chatting, blissfully unaware of the danger lurking among them. He smirked at the irony, knowing that he was the unseen threat that haunted their nights. Mr. Cross continued his walk, occasionally glancing at his reflection in shop windows, admiring the calm, collected image he projected.
Shortly after he arrived to his workplace and started working without any fear on the world.