📘• The killer was Arduous— convoluted, if you will. They knew who he was, but they couldn’t locate his whereabouts.

His name was Daniel Cross— a man of amicable character and commercial man who worked at a local restaurant called Ricks.

He targeted Woman of no direct age— as long as they were blonde, had blue eyes, and fit his standards of a small body.

Jennifer had never guessed that she would be his ultimate victim when he seen her as the main face at the press, but now she was cracking her gut as she scooched back against a chain link fence— watching as the man who had probably just killed her with the wounds he had inflicted got into a car and drove away.

Well. She was screwed.