The Serial Killer Podcast

He was breathing heavily, although it had taken so little effort to swing the length of two-by-four against her head and feel the satisfying impact when it hit. She had dropped like a stone, collapsing without a sound beyond the initial thud. He knelt beside her and checked to see if she was still breathing. He thought he detected a slight movement in her ribs. And then he placed both his hands around her neck and squeezed for a long time, feeling her life drain away beneath his fingers. Her neck was so frail; he could feel little bones inside crushing under his hands, the cartilage giving way.Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/theserialkillerpodcastWebsite: https://www.theserialkillerpodcast.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/theskpodcastInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/serialkillerpodX: https://x.com/serialkillerpodSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/the-serial-killer-podcast. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Blake rested his hand on his service revolver, weighing the morality of gunning Boone down on the courthouse steps, when he heard the news. Boone didn’t have the cash. He possessed neither valuables sufficient to pawn nor property to offer a money lender. By the end of the day, during which he had performed some truly fantastic work, Mr. Bishop began questioning whether he would ever receive payment. Consequently, the other side of the judge’s punishment fell upon Boone. He would serve a month on a chain gang, performing hard labour for the city of Victoria. His wages would be offset against the debts owed to the Adelphi Saloon and Mr. Bishop.Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/theserialkillerpodcastWebsite: https://www.theserialkillerpodcast.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/theskpodcastInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/serialkillerpodX: https://x.com/serialkillerpodSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/the-serial-killer-podcast. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

His first victim stood blind drunk, pissing on the side of the trading post. Boone simply strolled up behind him, placed the pistol barrel to his nape, and pulled the trigger.Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/theserialkillerpodcastWebsite: https://www.theserialkillerpodcast.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/theskpodcastInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/serialkillerpodX: https://x.com/serialkillerpodSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/the-serial-killer-podcast. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Burton tried to speak, to beg for mercy, but his throat had clamped shut, parched and brittle as ancient parchment left too long in the sun. His voice only clawed its way back in a ragged, desperate croak the instant Boone pressed the knife down against the flesh of his right leg, just above the knee, and the first thin, crimson line of blood welled up, hot and sticky, tracing a lazy rivulet down the pale skin. Boone used that old Bowie for everything—carving kindling, gutting game, scraping hides—and its edge had gone so dull from endless abuse that it resembled a rusted sawblade more than a blade. He had to lean in with his full, heavy weight, all two hundred pounds of muscle and grit, to force the tip through the tough outer layer of Burton's skin, the metal grinding audibly against the resistance like a dull file on bone.Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/theserialkillerpodcastWebsite: https://www.theserialkillerpodcast.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/theskpodcastInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/serialkillerpodX: https://x.com/serialkillerpodSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/the-serial-killer-podcast. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

A few of the abandoned men, their wills broken, staggered blindly after Boone and Burton once they finally realized the terrible deception. But in tragically little time, they were completely snow-blind and hopelessly lost, staggering aimlessly away from the faint path and each other as the relentless, creeping tendrils of hypothermia finally took hold of their core. Some paltry articles of their clothing would eventually be found near the trail once a spring thaw swept through the valley, but of their frozen, anonymous bodies, there was never any trace. Whether they were claimed by the brutal, indifferent cold, by a silent return of the vengeful Diggers, or by some starved, scavenging beast of the high mountains will forever remain a chilling mystery. Even their names have been tragically lost to the ravages of time, with only the vaguest, most unflattering descriptions of them surviving in the old, faded complaints filed by the victims who once sought their deaths.Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/theserialkillerpodcastWebsite: https://www.theserialkillerpodcast.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/theskpodcastInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/serialkillerpodX: https://x.com/serialkillerpodSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/the-serial-killer-podcast. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.