Chapter Text
Everyone knew who Rosalind Dyer was.
Well, they knew of her idea of a leisurely pastime.
But nobody had seen her yet.
Nobody had yet matched the crimes to a name and face. And she very much intended on keeping it that way. It was much easier to do what she did when nobody looked at her suspiciously. It certainly helped that she was rather good at disposing of dead bodies. She knew how to snatch her victims without attracting attention. She knew which hiking trails were rarely monitored. She knew to get rid of any trackable device from her victim’s pockets. And, most importantly, she always knew to make sure the body was mutilated enough that it would render identification almost impossible. If someone found it, that was.
However, despite all her careful consideration and planning, this morning she found herself staring at a rather pale-faced jogger. He was actually almost as pale as the skin of the body she was currently burying. He was holding his phone up, presumably so its camera caught her face. At first, she wasn’t even aware of what this meant, of the fact that she had been witnessed standing nonchalantly over a dead body, because, more than anything, she was annoyed. It was four in the morning; why, in God’s name, was someone jogging through a deserted park? Hadn’t anybody ever told him that that was about as stupid as running through a shooting range with a target on your back?
But, before she could chastise the man, perhaps give him an example of what people like her did to idiots like him, he’d already run off.
Although the masses of trees surrounding her were great for keeping both the body and herself out of sight, it certainly didn’t do her any favours as she started to run after him, finding he might as well have vanished into thin air. Grousing to herself, she returned to where she was, making sure the body was buried deep into the ground and that she hadn’t left anything behind. By the time she finished doing that, the sun was starting to rise, highlighting the muddled tracks in the dirt. She could also faintly hear sirens in the distance and knew she had to get herself far, far away from where she was.
She’d used this park before; it wasn’t too hard to leave and go back to her car. Rosalind drove as fast as she could to her apartment, but not so fast that she risked being pulled over. Immediately, she started to pack her things — not that she had too many; you never could when you lived a life like this — and opened her computer to search through the files she had prepared for this exact scenario. To her irritation, the blurry photo the jogger had snapped of her was already starting to pop up on social media and a few local news web pages. That photo might only attach just one murder to her, but there was certainly a likelihood that they would find some of the others.
And that simply wouldn’t do.
There was a solution, though. One that was far better than simply moving states, using a new fake ID, and stealing enough cash to get her by along the way, usually by visiting an ATM with her previous victim’s debit cards. Seeing as that method relied on nobody knowing that the legal holder of the account was, in fact, dead, Rosalind had the feeling she wouldn’t be able to make that work this time. She would need to move in any case, but she knew that with a call to the right person, she could soon be living in peace once more.
Fishing out one of her burner phones, she dialled the number of a plastic surgeon she’d become acquainted with some time ago. The surgeon didn’t know all that much about her, she had to admit. But Rosalind knew she was willing to do anything she asked since she had evidence of the doctor's embezzlement up her sleeve. She was glad she’d kept her around. Although her killings were something solely attributed to her, not to any accomplice, not to any cause, just to her, given that getting caught was always a risk, it helped to have a few connections like this.
“I need a favour.” Rosalind said before the doctor even had a chance to finish her half-asleep greeting.
There was a pause. “R… Rosalind?”
“Oh, so you do remember me? Then you know why I’m calling.”
The doctor immediately perked up, her voice racing with anxiety. “Y-Yes. What… what would you like me to do?”
Before Rosalind could reply, she mustered the strength to cut her off, making her smirk.
“W-Wait. Before I agree to anything, do you promise that if I help you, you’ll give me the evidence?”
“Of course.” She said, her voice sweet with venom. “Now… I need a new face. You told me you could do that with just a photo, yes?”
“Yeah. I-If you can get me something like a passport or ID photo, that should be enough.”
“Then we’ll be in touch. I’ll tell you where I am, and you will simply tell your clinic that you’re ill and get there as soon as possible. This is a rather urgent request.”
The doctor cleared her throat. “Understood.”
“Good.” Rosalind said with a smile before hanging up.
In just a few hours, she would possess the face of Renee Walker, and everything would be well and good. Before she knew it, she would be able to get back to what she did best.
Of course, if she was going to impersonate Walker, Rosalind would have to make sure the original was out of sight.