Scent of Murder by James O. Born Page B

asked a woman a minute later. The woman not only refused, she scolded Tina.
    He felt like this might be his chance. But he didn’t want her to see his face. His one saving grace was that no one had a good, detailed description of him and none of his victims could identify him. He wondered if he could work out some sort of trade with Tina. Then he realized it wouldn’t be the same. He needed the power. He wanted to smell her fear. To know how superior he was. He had to introduce her to a whole new world. It wouldn’t be anything at all like what she was used to. He also realized she couldn’t see his face. Unless …
    The idea bubbled in his head briefly, then took on a life of its own. He’d never really considered it except as a last resort. She could see his face if she was unable to talk to the police later.
    Tina turned and looked in his direction, then began to walk tentatively toward the truck at the edge of the parking lot.
    His heart started to beat faster and he felt a tingling in his chest. He pretended not to notice her and acted like he was concentrating on his cell phone. Somehow he managed to look startled when she rapped on the passenger window.
    She had a pleasant smile as the window whirred down. He noticed several crooked teeth and blamed her father for not working a steady job to pay for braces. Tina said, “Can you help me out?”
    â€œWhatcha need?”
    â€œI left my ID at home, and that jerk inside won’t sell me beer.”
    Junior forced himself to wait a moment before answering so he wouldn’t sound too anxious. He grunted, “Sure,” as he pulled the handle on the driver’s door. As he stepped out onto the littered asphalt parking lot he said, “Wait in the truck. It’s a lot cooler in there.”
    She hesitated, looked through the window to make sure he was out of the truck, then pulled the door open and slipped into the passenger seat.
    That’s when he pulled his Beretta from under his shirt and hit the automatic lock button on the open driver’s door.
    Tina gasped but didn’t move.
    In a very calm voice Junior said, “I’m not going to hurt you.” His mind raced as he stepped back into the truck, pulling the door shut behind him. This was going to be a wondrous afternoon. Then he would see if he could take things to the next level.
    He pulled out onto Military Trail, then turned west at the next light. There were always wide-open empty areas to the west.

 
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    The girl was terrified, and that excited Junior. If what he was doing was a drug, then he’d just mainlined heroin. He didn’t know how long he could last, and he hadn’t even parked the truck. Since his first sexual encounter with his ninth-grade music teacher, Miss Trooluck, Junior had loved the feel of performing oral sex. It seemed so dirty at the time. Worse than intercourse. Her moans had frightened him at first; then he developed a fascination with it. A fascination that had grown since that day. Some people might call it an obsession, but Junior didn’t care. It was one of the few things he looked forward to in his dreary life.
    He turned off onto two unkempt farm tracks with heavy brush on each side of a canal. Except for the occasional fisherman, no one would ever have a reason to come out here. He was glad he’d borrowed the big F-150 pickup as it clattered down the road. He could hear tools rattling in the toolbox in the bed behind the cab.
    Tina had hardly said a word during the trip. He’d asked her a few questions and couldn’t ignore the electricity he felt when she looked him in the eye. This was something he’d missed with the previous girls. They’d always worn blindfolds and sort of flailed around aimlessly. Now he could see the emotion in her face and knew that he’d tapped into a fear she had never considered. He’d surprise her. Eventually she’d like his attention. He realized