Prologue

FBI Special Agent Foster watched the passengers disembark. He and his team were waiting for a specific individual.

That individual would be my ex-girlfriend from college, Ginny B. (For the sake of her family, I will refer to her as Ginny B throughout this account.) A year-long FBI probe had been focused on her.

The squad, led by Agent Foster, was prepared to make the arrest. I watched them prepare for their involvement in the operation. Others in the terminal waited for the plane’s arrival, unaware of what was about to happen, anxiously ready to greet their loved ones. As the plane’s scheduled arrival time drew nearer, the tension at the arrival gate grew.

Why was I there? It was because I wanted to put an end to the string of serial killings committed by the monster who had once been my girlfriend, Ginny B. I was tired of looking over my shoulder, fearing that I would be her next victim. I was tired of learning that another friend had died a violent death.

Above all, I was tired of living a life of constant worry and fear.

As for me, I am James Whitcomb Mercer the Fourth, though my friends and coworkers simply call me James Mercer.

When I first met Ginny, she gave the impression of being a sweet, charming, and very attractive college coed. I was instantly drawn to her and began to develop feelings for her. I guess you could say I was falling for her. At first, our relationship was like most young couples’—holding hands, wanting to spend time together, confessing our undying love for each other. But it didn’t take long for the wheels to fall off the bus. Ginny revealed a side I had never seen before. She became possessive, jealous, prone to fits of anger, and violent. I soon began to fear being with her. It later proved correct that I was right to be afraid of her.

Ginny B. was a narcissistic psychopath who bore similarities to another chilling psychopath killer at large at the time: Ted Bundy. Even now, thinking about what might have happened if those two had crossed paths still sends shivers down my spine. Both had the attractiveness and charisma to make you let your guard down.

Ginny’s every movement was purposeful. It was all about Ginny, and you didn’t matter. “I’m sorry if you were a victim,” she might say, as if it was your fault for crossing her. She never expressed regret for her actions.

She had possessive tendencies and became angry easily due to her narcissism. I know this well, having experienced it myself on numerous occasions.