Excerpt 2 from Past, Imperfect

The gleaming blade sliced a neat, precise ‘x’ into the image of Kirby Standish. Then, one by one, into the smiling faces of the other teenagers in the photo.

Except for Blane.

It had been a mistake to stab the picture frame, to shatter the glass. Blane’s eternally-young, handsome face had been damaged irreparably. Smoothing a finger over the gouged spot didn’t help.

Unease fluttered within.

There was nothing worse than imperfection. Everything had to match exactly; incomplete sets, mess and disorder simply weren’t acceptable.

Then again, perhaps there was a certain symmetry to it. After all, none of the killings would have been necessary if it hadn’t been for Blane. Even Blane’s death, which hadn’t been part of the plan, had become unavoidable. If only he’d done what he was supposed to, taken heed of the warnings and acted appropriately. Done the right thing.

It was imperative to do the right thing, always. Whatever the cost.

Blane hadn’t. Unfortunate, but there it was.

The blade poised over the picture, as if awaiting instructions. A decision had to be made. The knife lowered, its tip almost touching the glossy surface. The pattern had to completed or sleep would be impossible. Slowly, carefully, as if the ragged hole wasn’t there, the razor-sharp steel carved the final ‘x’ with unerring precision.

But, the fluttery unease remained.

The job wasn’t finished. Loose ends remained.

Although all the key players were gone at last, the past hadn’t been laid to rest. Kirby had stirred up more than the police with her return. Getting rid of her had been another unfortunate, but unavoidable task.

And now, that old fool had brought in The Ice Squad. They’d follow up on the old case, dig around for new leads and disrupt lives that had been going along perfectly well. All the old news and gossip would be revived and regurgitated in the media.

The focus would, once more, be where it shouldn’t.

Unacceptable.

Especially now, when The Dream was within reach.

The solution was, yet again, unavoidable. Only one person could ensure nothing got in the way of The Dream. Weariness descended. The responsibility weighed heavily.

The temptation to stop, to let someone else carry the burden, was fleeting. No-one else could be trusted to do the job properly. And, it had to be done properly.

Those loose ends had to be snipped.

Permanently.

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