Deadly Mimic

Excerpt

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Prologue

The glow of the television screen cast a cold light over the dim room. I settled deeper into the worn armchair, shifting slightly to find the perfect angle to watch. The voice of the reporter fills the silence, and I smiled, a familiar warmth spreading through me.

Mallory McBryan. Her voice. Her presence. Everything about her just… flows. It’s soothing, like a quiet storm that you knew was coming but couldn’t help but enjoy. The way she spoke about the most mundane things as if they’re a part of something bigger, something important. Every word she said, no matter how trivial, pulled me in. I loved her voice. It was calm, confident. She was always so composed, even when chaos surrounded her. 

“…and in breaking news, the FBI have joined River City local police in investigating the disappearance of two local residents last week. While they have released no new leads, authorities are holding out hope for new information over the coming days…”  

I sighed, appreciating the calmness of it all. The gentle timbre of her voice, the grace with which she navigated the unsettling news, and how she made everything feel almost like a lullaby. It was just perfect.

I glanced over to my left, at the corner of the room, where the next… participant waited. Bound, gagged. Gurgling and muffled noises rattled in their throat. Impatient? Maybe.

I shushed them gently with a finger to my lips, an exaggerated gesture meant to ensure they understand. Their eyes widened, struggling against the rope holding them firmly in place. A slight whimper escaped.

“Quiet,” I murmured, my voice low but firm. I didn’t want to hear a sound from them right now. Not while she was speaking. Mallory deserves my full attention.

The gagged figure shifted, the sound of their restraints scraped against the floor adding to the quiet tension in the room. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t here for them right now. I was here for her.

“…it’s a tragedy, really, the way these stories keep unfolding, but with the right effort from the community and support from the FBI, the police are confident they’ll track down the person or persons responsible…”

She glanced down at the papers in front of her, her brow furrowing slightly, the only sign of uncertainty I’d seen in her demeanor all evening. Even then, it only made her seem more real, more relatable. She wasn’t some untouchable celebrity, though sometimes it felt that way. No, she’s… approachable. Somehow. She’s someone you could share a cup of coffee with.

I hushed the bound figure again. Their muffled protests reach me, but they won’t get my attention.

“Shh,” I say softly. “It’s her turn, not yours. Wait patiently, and you’ll get your moment. But not now.”

The figure slumped back against the wall, resigned, but the fear in their eyes seemed to make them almost glassy. The way they tried to make themselves as small as possible in the corner. It was amusing, in a way. They always thought they had control over this situation.

I returned my attention back to the screen, to Mallory’s face. There’s something so captivating about her. The way her lips curl into a slight smile, the warmth behind her eyes.

“…authorities are urging the public to remain vigilant and report any suspicious activity, as they believe the case may be connected to others in the surrounding areas…”

I leaned forward a little, absorbing every word she said. Her voice, even when speaking about something so horrific, still managed to soothe me. It was a strange thing. How much power a voice can hold.

I glanced at my next victim again. They’re shaking now, trembling under the weight of whatever fear or thoughts running through their mind. The terror of the unknown, of what’s coming next. Good, it would keep them busy.

But I don’t want to be distracted. Not now. Not while she’s speaking.

When their volume raised, I waved my hand at them, signaling once more for them to remain quiet, just a little longer. Mallory’s nearing the end of her segment, and I can’t bear to miss it. The thought that I might have to interrupt this moment for something so… trivial as a struggle? No, unacceptable.

She finished her report with that smile, that glint of professionalism, and as the screen faded to black, I let out a slow breath.

Now… now it’s my turn.

I stood, slowly, turning toward the figure in the corner. They were still shaking, their eyes wide with panic.

I smiled, the anticipation curling in my chest.

“You’ve been so patient,” I whispered, stepping closer. “But now, it’s our time.”

end of excerpt