Mark dumped her over the edge so that she’d tumble into the ravine. It would be days, maybe weeks before they’d find her. Only the rangers who did a sweep every so often (and only the rangers who were really careful) would see something at the bottom. She was small, and he had wrapped her in a black canvas tarp he found in his parents’ garage. She would be easily concealed in the ravine’s deep nooks and crevices and messy brush. It was the end of summer, so it was still green and full.

Surely someone would miss her. She was a pretty girl, about 23 years old. But she wasn’t very smart. It was easy to lure her out of her car and into his. It was easy to bind her hands and feet and do what he loved to do. He had a process. The small ones were top choice; he wouldn’t have to knock them out to bind them. His massive 6’4” frame could handle any 5’2” girl. He could hold both her wrists with one hand as he tied the cord around them with the other. Same with the feet. Their bones were so small, and Mark was sure if he pressed hard enough, they’d snap like chicken bones.

He wanted them awake as much as possible. Slow and steady, he never rushed through his process. If he skipped a step or if there were any distractions or disruptions, his rage would boil over and he’d just lash out. And that was a waste of a perfectly good girl.

He would imagine that she was into it. After three days of doing whatever he wanted, he’d strangled them with their own clothing. In the winter months, a scarf. In the warmer months, a sleeve or belt. And then he’d toss them over the edge. Not always the same edge. The mountain range spanned 35 miles. The lush valleys and ravines were excellent for disposing of the bodies. Even though so many girls had gone missing, sending search parties into the ravine was dangerous, and the brush made it hard to see what was hiding at the bottom.

Mark always made sure to volunteer for the search parties. It’s how he kept track of the investigations. He kept his ears open for any information and loved to hear the theories and stories that people shared about the mysterious killer on the loose. He also made sure to keep an eye out for any party members getting too close to a spot where he dumped one of his victims. There was a close call after the second killing. One overzealous volunteer almost spotted her, but Mark made sure to distract him and lure him to another spot with false information.

He had killed five now—his fifth was his most fulfilling. She cried a lot. A few times her whining annoyed him, and he almost ended her sooner than usual. But his process was important to him. He needed to do it step by step. He usually liked when they were scared, but it was her voice that was ruining it all. It was so tinny. So shrill. It almost hurt him to listen. But then he’d look at her, how small she was and how easy it was to overpower her. And with that power, he could silence her whining, and that was what he needed.

Control.