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left field that I sank into the sofa, stunned. Obviously, the horrific events of this night were messing with my head.
    I shifted uncomfortably, eager to change the topic. “So, what was so important that you needed to storm into my house?”
    “I didn’t storm.”
    “You weren’t invited.”
    He tilted his head, unable to pull up a good comeback. “True,” a small smile played on his lips and I found that it made his roughly handsome face even more appealing. “I’m sorry, tonight’s been intense.”
    I sobered, my mind returning once more to the severed head and body bag tossed into the club tonight. “You said that April was branded. What did you mean?”
    “Do you have a piece of paper?” He inquired. I quickly retrieved a pad and a pen for him.
    Carlos balanced the page on his knee and spoke while he drew. “The police call him The Executioner. His first kill was a three years ago in Belize City. His last was in Toledo a few months ago.”
    I shivered, thinking of all those girls that had been grotesquely mutilated.
    Carlos continued, “He’s been moving through the six districts of Belize seeking out prostitutes, exotic dancers, anyone involved in the adult entertainment business. His picks are random but once he chooses a venue, he goes after three girls. It’s always the same number. Always three.”
    I gasped. “You’re joking.”
    Carlos looked up from his sketch with dark eyes. He wasn’t. “He cuts off their heads and then brands them with this.” He held up the paper. I grasped it from him and held it up to the light. It was a bunch of random markings that I didn’t understand.
    “What does it mean?”
    “It’s Hebrew,” his eyes skittered away from mine, “for soiled.”
    Soiled . I knew what the word meant. I knew all the others like it. Ruined, stained, tainted, dirty . A crazy serial killer was rounding up girls like me, cutting their heads off and marking them so that even in death, they’d be ridiculed and looked down upon.
    It angered me. How dare he?
    “Why isn’t there more information about this guy? Why isn’t the news all over this?”
    “He’s working at random,” Carlos sighed, “there’s no pattern to his choosing. The police want to keep any copy cats from joining his cause.”
    I frowned and then glanced suspiciously at him. “How do you know so much about this?”
    He firmed his jaw and completely ignored my question. “He’s chosen Mickey’s . You and all the other girls are in danger.”
    He was staring at me, waiting to see a flicker of understanding, but all I could think was that Carlos knew too much about this case. Was this the key to the mystery that had stumped me for three months?
    Carlos had arrived at Mickey’s out of the blue, touting a story about paying back loans for an English degree. He was huge, way more beefed up than a regular English teacher. His constant refusals to share any information about himself or his family, and his interest in the Executioner guy were unendingly suspicious.
    My eyes raked his thick head of hair, his broad shoulders, his dark, brown eyes and his square jaw. He could subdue me with little effort, his strong arms were like bands of steel. What if I was in danger right now ? What if The Executioner, the serial killer that had sawed April’s head from her body, was Carlos Fuentes?

Chapter 6
    As quickly as the thought came, it fled. Carlos had been right in front of me – and then on top of me – when the body was flung through the windows. And even if he was The Executioner, why would he go to so much trouble to see me home safely?
    Unless this was how the Executioner worked? Maybe he buttered up the girls before he killed them. And maybe Carlos was working with accomplices which could account for why he was beside me when the body was delivered via window. It could account for why he hadn’t been caught yet.
    The possibilities were driving me crazy. I groaned and leaned back in the sofa. If Carlos was The