Nameless by Debra Webb Page A

was more frustrating than having a case go unresolved, like the one involving young Natalie Holloway from right here in Alabama who had been abducted on her high school class trip to Aruba. McBride should have been on her case.
    Foolish, foolish FBI.
    Martin would show them. Wal-Mart’s cameras wouldn’t stop him. He was well out of range and his plan was foolproof. Utterly and completely foolproof. He had studied the behavior of one employee in particular for a very long time. Some part of him had always known that his connection to her would play some pivotal role one day.
    Now, that day had come. A few minutes from now, the next stage of his strategy would be set in motion.
    She would have been first but then he had read in the newspaper about the sealing of tombs at the cemetery. The concept hadn’t been part of his original strategy but his dear, sweet wife, his beloved Deirdre, had found it inspiring and urged him to use the opportunity. He could never let her down.
    Whatever she wanted, she would have.
    But now he was back on schedule with the oblivious Mrs. Katherine Jones.
    Five nights per week Katherine left her second-shift job at Wal-Mart and drove home to her empty house. Her husband had been killed in an automobile accident two years ago and she had chosen not to remarry. Martin understood that kind of loss. There was no way to replace a lost loved one.
    There was only vengeance, atonement, and mercy. Before he was finished those FBI rats would know all three intimately.
    For Katherine Jones life had been so sad for so long that she wondered at times why she bothered. Approaching forty now with no children and no prospect of romance, she had decided that nothing would change this monotony of sadness. She had said so in the journal she kept on her bedside table. She had also written about her one mistake … that long-ago blip in time for which she had never forgiven herself. She remembered that evening, not as vividly as he, of course, but she had not forgotten.
    She would never forget.
    Katherine Jones needn’t worry that her life was over. Her time had finally come. Tonight was her night. Her life was about to change, to become a part of something much bigger. This was her chance to redeem herself, to make up for that one momentary lapse that had cost so very much.
    Martin smiled as he watched her exit the grocery side of the store’s front entrance. She chatted with two of her coworkers as she crossed the parking lot to her decade-old Buick. The four-door sedan wasn’t much to look at but it was paid for and it allowed Katherine to support herself with reasonable comfort on her paltry salary.
    Katherine said good-bye to her friends and scooted behind the wheel of her car. She drove to the nearest exit and merged out onto Hackworth Road. At that same time, across the street, Martin pulled away from the parking lot of a gas station. He adjusted his speed, switched lanes so that he was right behind Katherine’s Buick, and settled in for the drive.
    It wasn’t far. Only a few miles and that one weekly stop. That was what made Thursday nights special. Each and every Thursday night, Katherine stopped at the minimarket on her way home. One would think that was an odd thing to do since she had only just left the Wal-Mart where she worked and prices were certainly lowest. But Katherine had her reasons. She didn’t want her coworkers to know about the wine she purchased each Thursday night. Friday and Sunday were her days off. Sundays she had church, but on Fridays she slept in. A whole bottle of wine made sure her Thursday nights were restful ones. She didn’t dream about the husband she had lost or the lack of opportunity in her life. Or about that one mistake that would haunt her until the day she died.
    She stopped at the minimarket and Martin drove on past, went directly to her small ranch-style home and parked across the street, keeping a careful distance from the one working streetlight on the block.
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