How to Skin a Sociopath: Connect the Dots



“Gas, please! Just don’t answer it.”

Gaskin’s wife reached over and snatched the cell phone from her husband’s blanket, tossed it in the cooler, and slammed the lid shut. They could still hear it ringing and vibrating.

“Sarge tells me to use my time or I’m gonna lose the shit. So what do I do babe?”

“I know hon, but people don’t stop dying just because you decided to have a cup of coffee with your wife in the morning.”

“See that’s the thing.”

Gaskins repositioned himself on his blanket so he could kiss Dee on the forehead. Then he thought about it and kissed her lips, face, and neck.

She giggled.

“More people need to be married.” He continued.

“See, I don’t know about all of that. Aren’t the stats for domestic homicides up around here lately?”

Dee knew her shit.

“Yeah well that’s cuz they ain’t us.”

Now Dee erupted in laughter, “Man please. It wasn’t always like this. Half the damn time I couldn’t stand your ass.”

Gaskins was chuckling and attempted to kiss on Dee’s neck again, but she had reached into the cooler and was handing her husband his ringing phone.

“I see how you are.”

Gaskins took the phone from his wife, “Yeah what?! …My bad Riley. No., no you good. How many? Jesus. Ok, I’m on the beach give me at least a half. Ok.”

“See you ever notice every time I’m tryna get me some lovin from you, you give me somethin else to do?”

“Don’t blame that shit on me, Gas, you chose this job.”

He sighed picked the cooler up, and helped his wife up from the blanket.

“But I also chose you.”

“Bamma please, if I remember correctly. I did the damn choosing. And we live right on the beach, why did you tell that girl you were a half hour away?”

Gaskins wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist and nuzzled her neck, “Because Mrs. Gaskins, I’m choosing to go in late today.”

“Gas,” Dee said with concern.”

“Look babe, those bodies aren’t gonna miraculously come to life if I rush…”

The mocking and loving continued up the porch and into the house.


“Riley, where the fuck is Gas?! We gotta get to the crime scene!” Hedges yelled at he put on his coat.

“You told him to take some time, Sarge. He’s about thirty minutes away from the squad.” She replied chasing behind him. They headed to the roof where the chopper was waiting and climbed inside. They flew over a remote part of the desert, and Riley noticed a white crime scene tent and what she could assume were workers scurrying below. Her eyes darted over the landscape and she saw another tent.

And another.

For what looked like a couple of miles.

to be continued…


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