Ranger Defender. Angi Morgan

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      Several doctors, including Roberts, had ordered her to stop, stating it was unhealthy to pick at her nails. They were wrong.

      Her skin was raw, but there were still pieces. She picked more furiously before looking up into her red, freshly scrubbed face. Certain there was another layer of dirt on her epidermis, she obtained another washcloth, rubbing and scrubbing as hard as she could.

      Setting the cloth onto the counter, she switched back to the tweezers, picking until the bright red of her clean blood seeped around the nail. She went to the cabinet to remove the last washcloth from the sealed bag. She would begin the cleansing process again until she was positive the germs from walking on an unfamiliar street were no longer present.

      “Enough!” her reflection yelled.

      “I can never get clean enough,” she answered behind the cloth.

      “You must control yourself, Abby. Break from your routine. There is work to be done. Check the list you made while waiting for the train. It’s thorough.”

      “Yes. I need to identify the woman in the truck.” The tweezers caught her eye. She dropped the newer white cloth on top of the metal but immediately had to place them in the sterilizing jar.

      “My darling Abby. You are so smart and will find my answers. The perfect death will be ours. I’ve always had faith in you.”