CHAPTER 5
THE KILLER STRIPPED off his clothes, folding each item into a neat square, stacking them into a tower, with his shoes forming the foundation as a barrier against the dew-dampened earth. The chill of the early morning gripped him, raising gooseflesh as the watery, lemon-yellow sunlight filtered down through the sparse leaves and pine needles, slowing the flow of his blood to a sluggish stream. He raised the bloody strip, letting it flutter in the light breeze. This is the way she’d taught him. By blood and by fire.
He bent to the pile of sticks and stones and began arranging them, each of the three different types of wood laid in a distinctive pattern, the rocks like cornerstones, kindling on top. A small burlap sack yielded a nest of oakum, which he placed close at hand and fro
