The Chemistry of Death

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Ziggy smiled when the woman’s designer shoes slipped on the train ties. Those shoes were at home in the expensive club where he’d picked her up, but they were worse than useless down here in the subway tunnels.

He caught her ice-cold arm. He’d made sure she’d forgotten her coat when they left the club, and he knew he must feel warm to her, warm and safe. She would trust him. She let him steady her for a heartbeat before pulling away.

“Watch the third rail.” He pointed to the raised metal track that ran along the inside rail. “It’s dangerous.”

“I want to go back.” Her lower lip quivered, and she tucked it between even, white teeth. The drug was already affecting her. He’d given her a high dose because she hated the tunnels more than any other woman he’d brought down here.

“Put on more lipstick.” He held his breath, wondering if the drug had kicked in enough for her to comply. “You’ll feel better when you look better.”

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