One look at his closet told me all I needed to know. The skeletons, for one thing; those would have to go. The serial killer look had been done – well – to death, and I wouldn’t be seen… with a man who… Well. They had to go.
The fact that they were skeletons and not more meat-y probably meant that they’d been here some time. That could be a good thing. It had been a long time ago. A moment of… serial madness. We all make mistakes – goodness knows I did! – but people can change! He can change.
The meat thing would make it easier to dispose of them too. Less gooey. And with them out of the closet, weighted down with rocks and dumped off Wells Point, we can put the past behind us, and start to focus on what really matters: us.