Seven AM the next morning, a jogger sees the mutilated body, burnt black and covered in blood.  Panicking, she calls the 911 operator.

Detective Scott arrived on the scene shortly after the police.  Scurrying around the cops to get to the body, he already knew what to expect; he takes one look at the charred, mutilated man and sighs with exhaustion.  "I guess I was wrong," he mumbled under his breath.  A tap on the shoulder, "The coroner is here," the young voice said.  "You need to escort him to the scene."  Scott slowly walked Smith over to the man lying in the dirt.  The corner takes on look at the body and screams.  "No! Not her, not again, not here!"

"What's wrong, Smith?" asks detective Scott.  "This isn't new to our town.  I thought the City told you this is why our old coroner ran off.  That's why we hired you; we thought you could handle this."

Smith replied, "Of course not! That's why I left Rayetteville.  I didn't come to Southland to be haunted by the same damn demon!"

And then the flashbacks came.  All he could picture was his once beautiful wife, burned, almost to the point of unrecongizable.  They had lived an expensive life thanks to his wife's "extra-curricular activities."  Smith knew of her dealings and fully supported her because she supported their family.  There was no way that they could get by on just Smith's salary with the way that they lived, especially trying to get their son into a rehab center.

Trinity had grown up with very conservative parents; they always forced her to go to Sunday school, hoping that she would turn out better, but needless to say, she rebelled.  At the tender age of 15, she realized that she could use her looks to manipulate.  She passed all of her high school classes with A's.  She got Valedictorian of her high school class.  All it took was a lift of her skirt, and some "after school tutoring" with her teachers.  She also found out, later in life, that this worked great with the politicians that she was a secretary for. She could keep them satisfied, and as long as she was secretive and didn't let any of the constituents know, she got paid a hefty sum of cash each session.

Smith wasn't sure if it was the fact that she was sleeping with the politicians, who all indeed had wives, that got her targeted by the creature, or if it was because of the extra valuables she pick-pocketed on her way out of the door of their homes and offices.  The two of them had a lovely collection of golden watches, strands of pearls, and other precious fits that the politicians had generously, and unknowingly given her.  Smith was terrified that because he knew everything and never came to the police, that the bitch wanted him dead as well.

"So what do we do?" Scott pulled Smith back to reality.  "We hope like hell  we have never done anything that she considers 'bad'," responded Smith, still unable to get his recent thoughts out of his head.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Don't you know, she only kills those that are guilty.  But, I don't know what exactly her sense of right and wrong consists of.  With that, your guess is as good as mine, but most of her victims in Rayetteville wither had a criminal past, or were under investigation for a crime.  There were a few housewives that were caught in the mix too, not sure why she killed them though.  My wife was one of the few unlucky innocents.  Maybe wrong time, wrong place sort of situation."

"My condolences," Scott remarked as he walked off with pain in his heart.  Thinking to himself with his eyes dropped to the ground, "She has never killed an innocent.  He really thinks I'm stupid, doesn't he?  Lying bastard."

The End

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