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🕑 Added 2025-03-24 14:11:17 +0000 UTCAnatomy of a Killer
Chapter 23 - The Girl in the Woods, Part 12
Captain Matthews burst into the interrogation room.
Larry, on the other hand, opened his backpack, found the first aid kit, took out an adrenaline injection, and rushed into the room.
As the officers unlocked Valeria’s handcuffs, Larry lifted the adrenaline injection and precisely inserted the needle into the girl's leg.
"You won’t die, not after staining your hands with the blood of two innocent lives. You’ll live through everything you’ve done and face the consequences," Larry whispered coldly as he stepped away from her.
She will pay. The families will get justice. And from personal experience, the real punishment isn’t death—it’s living with the weight of your actions.
"Quick, handle the girl carefully!" Captain Matthews, sweating profusely, ordered the officers to take Valeria to the hospital themselves.
Downstairs, Valeria’s mother watched as they carried her daughter out. She kept murmuring in a daze, "What’s going on? Tell me what happened!"
"Your daughter killed two people. She only confessed after eating peanuts. When she realized there was no way out, she tried to escape responsibility by dying," Larry, wiping the sweat off his forehead, looked coldly at the woman and asked, "You didn’t know?"
Valeria’s mother looked at everyone in shock, shook her head, and began to cry.
Her expression was eerily similar to the innocent face Valeria had worn before—perhaps an image she had been imitating all along.
Moments later, a patrol car sped away from the police station toward the ambulance.
Ángel walked over to Larry and muttered, "Do you want me to add that to the investigation’s expense report?"
"Yeah, and I also need more of these pills," Larry murmured, shaking a bottle of dubious-looking medication.
"That bitch almost won," Ángel muttered, referring to Valeria's attempt to take her own life.
"Unfortunately for her, she won’t die."
"I would’ve let her die. Now I just hope she gets the punishment she deserves." Ángel never gave much thought to how a criminal ended up in prison. After spending half his day tracking down murderers, there was no point obsessing over it.
As for whether the judge would be fair or not—he didn’t care.
Larry looked at Ángel and nodded. This was how most people thought.
…
At 3:00 in the afternoon, Larry was in the morgue, instructing Max on a minor autopsy he was performing on a hitman.
Just then, the landline phone in the room rang, and Larry motioned for Max to answer it.
"Put it on speaker."
After listening to the message, Larry let Max finish the autopsy and stepped outside to smoke.
"This will kill us slower than a bullet..." Ángel murmured, staring at the cigarette in his hand. "I think I’ll quit."
"And replace it with more donuts? Screw that. This is the only way a lot of people relieve stress," said a police officer who was also smoking.
Once the officer left, Ángel turned to Larry and updated him on Valeria’s case. "Sergeant Doakes called. Valeria is out of danger. She also confessed everything about the two murders."
"Did you compare her statements with the investigation?" Larry didn’t want to let a murderer slip through the cracks—her version had to match their findings.
"Yeah, don’t worry. She was much more detailed this time."
Looking into the distance, Ángel began recounting everything to Larry, who listened in silence.
According to Ángel, Valeria’s parents and Greta Mayer’s parents were colleagues; they worked in Miami’s Land Office and Construction Office. However, Valeria’s father’s career skyrocketed, and he quickly climbed the ranks, becoming the second-in-command of his department.
Blinded by power and fame, he soon found himself entangled in scandalous affairs with several women. Valeria’s mother, unable to endure it any longer, decided to divorce him two years ago. However, to avoid disrupting their daughter’s life, they kept the separation a secret.
Whenever Valeria came home, her parents played the role of a happy couple. But the reality was different—they lived separate lives and had long since found new lovers.
Valeria, sharp as she was, had noticed everything. Perhaps she inherited her mother’s talent for hiding emotions, and over time, she became her accomplice in that charade. Her life was a carefully rehearsed lie.
To keep her fragile world from crumbling, she chose never to speak about it. If anyone discovered the truth, even that last illusion of normalcy would vanish.
Money and power bound the parents of Valeria’s group of friends together, but Greta Mayer’s parents knew Valeria’s parents best.
One night, during a party, Greta asked a question that struck Valeria like a dagger:
"Valeria, did you know your father is after a university student who was just assigned to the Construction Office?"
Greta’s voice was casual, almost a whisper, but her words hit Valeria’s pride like a sledgehammer.
Suddenly, she felt small. Insignificant.
She looked at Greta’s innocent expression, at her simple smile, and felt something dark take root inside her.
Greta, Camila, and the others always enjoyed flaunting their perfect lives, as if Valeria cared.
That bitch Camila was being forced by her parents to get close to a boy her age. Nicolás had no interest in her, but why reject such a useful tool?
Greta Mayer, on the other hand, had always been Nicolás’s protected one.
Maybe in her mind, he was her "pure moonlight"—her untouchable love. But to Nicolás, Greta was noble, someone who should never be tainted.
On the surface, Greta never showed arrogance or the need to boast, but that special treatment from Nicolás made her the most feared rival among the schoolgirls.
Envy.
A silent, deadly emotion. And in Valeria’s heart, it had already taken root.
Valeria always felt that Greta and Camila shone too brightly beside her. Their lives seemed perfect—loving families, attentive parents, and above all, a privileged place in Nicolás’s heart.
But when Valeria, heart pounding, finally gathered the courage to confess her feelings to Nicolás, she was rejected.
That rejection became a thorn buried deep in her soul, piercing her every time she saw her friends smile.
That was when she fell ill.
Doctors diagnosed her with a severe peanut allergy and over twenty other food allergies. Her fragile, tormented body forced her to rest for over a month. During that time, her relationships with her friends grew cold. The distance widened, and with it, her resentment.
It was then that Valeria made a decision: Greta Mayer had to die.
Of course, she had also planned to end things with Nicolás.
On the day of the murder, Valeria told her family she was visiting Camila. But instead of going to her house, she found a blind spot in the surveillance, crawled under a fence, and slipped out of the gated community unseen.
She then contacted her group of friends and proposed something intriguing. She told them about a meeting to plan a beach trip—a perfect excuse. Later, she canceled the supposed meeting without telling Greta, leaving her in a vulnerable position.
Excited about the gathering, Greta prepared for the night. Worried her parents might discover the lie, she preemptively told them she would be staying over at Camila’s house. It wasn’t the first time, so they suspected nothing.
When Valeria arrived in a taxi to pick her up, Greta didn’t hesitate.
Together, they headed to a remote cabin—one they had gathered at more than once before.
The place where everything would come to an end.
Valeria played with Greta’s mind. She suggested a game, hinting that perhaps Nicolás had a surprise planned for her.
Consumed by the idea, Greta questioned nothing. She suspected nothing.
When they arrived, Valeria blindfolded her with a silk scarf and placed a sky-blue ribbon in her hands.
"Just trust me."
Greta, excited, nodded without hesitation.
They walked through the trees. With every step, the night breeze grew colder. But Greta, trapped in her own illusion, only thought about what was to come.
Maybe, after all, Nicolás was going to confess his feelings.
Then, Valeria put on latex gloves and pulled a long knife from her backpack.
Speaking sweetly, she wrapped the sky-blue ribbon around Greta’s wrists, tying it carefully.
With a calculated movement, Valeria spun on her heels and, with a firm push, sent Greta crashing to the ground. She knelt on her back, pinning her down with her knees.
Greta didn’t understand.
She only wanted to ask: Why?
But before she could, a knife sliced through the air, cutting Greta’s cheek. The ribbon binding her wrists was severed as she tried to defend herself.
The movement was so quick that Greta barely felt pain. But when the blood splattered her face and she saw the bright red on her skin, panic took hold of her. Her instinct was to scream. And she did, with all her strength.
But to Valeria, that scream was more than just a sound. She felt it as a balm, something that, in a way, healed her soul. Her chest heaved with an intense, almost intoxicating emotion.
Desperate, Greta twisted sharply and reached out to grab the knife. Her mind refused to accept what was happening. The same question echoed over and over: Why?
But Valeria didn’t answer with words. She roared. She let out in a scream all the resentment and jealousy she had accumulated over the years.
Greta begged for mercy, cried, pleaded, but none of it stopped Valeria.
Half an hour later, Greta lay on the ground, lifeless, her body pierced by 132 stab wounds. The blood soaked the earth beneath her.
But Valeria didn’t feel at ease. She wanted to be sure.
She slashed Greta’s clothes and threw her off the cliff. Then, she plunged the blade one last time into the perineal area, waiting for a reaction. But there was none.
Satisfied, Valeria meticulously cleaned the scene. She took Greta’s phone and wallet and disappeared into the night.
The forest, silent until then, began to fill with shadows. Wild dogs, drawn by the scent of blood, started gathering nearby.
Valeria emerged from the woods unhurried. She disposed of her bloodstained clothes with surgical precision. She burned her shoes, gloves, and dress on the beach, watching as the ashes vanished into the waves.
For the first time in a long while, she felt free.
She found the bicycle she had hidden beforehand and pedaled home. It took her an hour and a half to return.
When she arrived, her parents were waiting.
"Why did you take so long?"
"Camila was having some trouble with math."
No one suspected a thing. To them, Valeria was still the sweet and responsible girl she had always been.
But the next day, the news struck like thunder: the police had found Greta’s body.
Camila froze when she heard. She became nervous, anxious. Something inside her told her that the story didn’t add up.
When she and Nicolás went to the Miami police station to see if they could learn anything, Valeria refused to go with them.
Hours later, when they returned to school looking for Valeria, she was already gone.
The next night, Camila couldn’t hold back any longer. She called Valeria.
"Tell me the truth. Do you know something? Did you cover for Greta so she could do something stupid?"
On the other end of the line, Valeria sighed and lowered her voice. "Don’t talk so loud."
"Let’s meet in the school’s forest, west of the library, at four in the morning. We’ll talk there."
Camila didn’t hesitate. After all, what could possibly happen? Valeria was weak, a foolish girl—could she really harm her?
She arrived at the agreed place on time. The darkness of the forest was thick, almost suffocating, but she felt no fear. It was Valeria. There was no reason to be afraid.
She only suspected that Valeria, being so timid, had helped Greta do something reckless and was now scared.
Valeria watched her in silence and, with a shy smile, pointed at her shoes.
"Camila, your shoelaces are untied."
Camila looked down in confusion.
Valeria took out her phone and placed it in Camila’s hand, then said, "Hold this and help me with the light."
Camila did so without hesitation.
As she illuminated the ground, Valeria slowly crouched down.
Camila had been complaining nonstop, but when she noticed Valeria’s expression, an uneasy doubt crept into her mind.
After a few minutes of waiting, impatience took hold of Camila.
"What’s wrong with you?" she asked urgently.
Valeria stood up with an enigmatic smile.
"Well, look at yourself and tell me if your shoelaces are properly tied."
Intrigued, Camila lowered her gaze to check her shoes. That was when she felt a sudden yank around her neck.
Valeria, taking advantage of her distraction, had wrapped the laces around her throat and pulled with all her strength.
Camila struggled desperately, her nails clawing at Valeria’s arms, but she didn’t relent. With a calculated move, she used her own weight to hold her down against her back. Camila’s body arched, her feet lifted off the ground, and within minutes, her resistance faded.
Still fearing that she might not be dead, Valeria tightened her grip until she was certain there was no sign of life left in her.
With cold precision, she dragged the body to a large tree and tied it up with the same shoelaces. She positioned her in a forced stance, with her arms stretched out, forming a grotesque "M."
As a final touch, she removed the leather buckle from her hair and used it to cover Camila’s lifeless face, hiding the frozen expression of terror.
Just as she was about to light the dry branches beneath the body, a sharp cry startled her.
"Hey! Who’s there?"
The security guard.
Without wasting a second, Valeria ran to a low wall and hid behind it, holding her breath as her heart pounded in her chest.
…
"That’s all…" Ángel whispered after finishing his story.
Both remained silent after that.
Two lives taken out of jealousy. Two murders committed with chilling coldness by a sixteen-year-old girl.
Three families shattered forever.
The question weighed heavily on their minds, unanswered. Had her upbringing failed? Were her parents responsible? Or was this the result of an obsession with materialism and social competition?
But no theory would bring those two girls back to life.
"Valeria turned sixteen last month," Ángel said, pointing out, "She committed two brutal crimes. She will likely be sentenced to life in prison."
In the U.S. legal system, minors can be tried as adults if the crime is severe enough. In a case of premeditated murder, the prosecution has the authority to request a transfer to the adult justice system.
If Valeria were tried as a minor, her sentence would be limited to a juvenile detention center until she reached a certain age. But if the court considered her an adult, she could face decades in prison. Depending on the case details, even life imprisonment.
Larry said nothing. He was simply waiting for the verdict.
Each person must be responsible for their actions.
If the truth hadn’t come to light, perhaps Nicolás and even she herself would have been next.
One could say they won, but in reality, that feeling never truly exists among criminal profilers.
