like her type. That’s why you’re picking me up, because she was so into you.”
Then she had hacked up a laugh. “Hacked up” being the perfect phrase since the raspy sound came with a fair amount of phlegm sprayed onto his windshield.
Which reminded him—he’d need to clean that, too. He didn’t want the whore’s DNA splattered anywhere on him or his vehicle. Now, as he stood in the back of his truck, he shook his head at his miscalculation. He liked challenges, but he liked to choose them.Not have them foisted on him. And Lily, the whore, had foisted this challenge on him.
But it was over. It was done. He considered it simply a detour.
And it had been a small bonus to see the surprise and confusion flash behind those drug-blurred eyes when he told her that Helen would be really disappointed in her.
Lily putting up a fight made him think about Maggie O’Dell and he smiled. He had been learning about her for about a month. Back in Washington, he had followed her around but was never able to get close enough. The closest was walking around the burned-out remains of her formerly beautiful home. Even then, he hadn’t poked and pried into her belongings, though he certainly could have. He simply left the map on the granite countertop in what used to be her kitchen.
After spending a day observing Maggie up close he felt a restlessness. He couldn’t wait to put her to his test. See what she was capable of doing. Unlike Lily, Maggie would be a worthy adversary. She would fight him wit for wit. She wouldn’t give up as easily as Noah or any of the others.
He looked forward to finally catching her. There would be fear in her eyes but there would also be respect and admiration. He wondered if she would plead with him to kill her quickly or would she bargain with him for a few extra hours of life. Yes, Maggie O’Dell would be the ultimate challenge. He had to be patient just a little longer.
Now he dipped the iron tire thumper into the vat and watched the acid eat off Lily’s blood and hair. In seconds it’d be clean without a hint of the damage it had done to her skull.
He peeled off his gloves and blood-splattered clothes, stuffing them in a black plastic garbage bag. He’d toss them in a trashreceptacle at the next rest area, somewhere miles from this one, so if someone found them they’d never find a body anywhere in that area. He’d figured that out long ago. No reason to change the process.
Likewise, he had built and customized the back half of his truck into a workshop with everything he needed, not only for his job but also for his hobby. So if anyone checked it out there was no reason to question the array of tools, cleaning solutions, saws, and knives. And because he was on the road so much, he also had all the personal comforts he needed. That included a week’s worth of clothing, shoes, and other accessories.
Some of those accessories served as disguises and included a hearing aid, a cane, an arm sling, Coke-bottle-thick glasses, a neck brace, and a dog leash. It was amazing the simple things that brought people’s guards down. The thought that a stranded motorist might be even more vulnerable because his arm was in a sling or perhaps because he’d lost his dog. He kept a list in his log book of those that worked the best. He observed and studied the things people didn’t seem to notice when they were exhausted from traveling. He kept a list of these as well.
He had already replaced the magnetic sign on the outside of his truck. He had several, all of them creative names of businesses that exuded integrity and trust. The one he just put on read: community rescue unit. Actually he’d gotten the idea from listening to a group of cops at a truck stop café outside Toledo, Ohio. They had just caught a killer using a public works department uniform. Homeowners let him in without question. Almost as good as a uniform was his idea of converting the outside of his truck into a vehicle that people
Then she had hacked up a laugh. “Hacked up” being the perfect phrase since the raspy sound came with a fair amount of phlegm sprayed onto his windshield.
Which reminded him—he’d need to clean that, too. He didn’t want the whore’s DNA splattered anywhere on him or his vehicle. Now, as he stood in the back of his truck, he shook his head at his miscalculation. He liked challenges, but he liked to choose them.Not have them foisted on him. And Lily, the whore, had foisted this challenge on him.
But it was over. It was done. He considered it simply a detour.
And it had been a small bonus to see the surprise and confusion flash behind those drug-blurred eyes when he told her that Helen would be really disappointed in her.
Lily putting up a fight made him think about Maggie O’Dell and he smiled. He had been learning about her for about a month. Back in Washington, he had followed her around but was never able to get close enough. The closest was walking around the burned-out remains of her formerly beautiful home. Even then, he hadn’t poked and pried into her belongings, though he certainly could have. He simply left the map on the granite countertop in what used to be her kitchen.
After spending a day observing Maggie up close he felt a restlessness. He couldn’t wait to put her to his test. See what she was capable of doing. Unlike Lily, Maggie would be a worthy adversary. She would fight him wit for wit. She wouldn’t give up as easily as Noah or any of the others.
He looked forward to finally catching her. There would be fear in her eyes but there would also be respect and admiration. He wondered if she would plead with him to kill her quickly or would she bargain with him for a few extra hours of life. Yes, Maggie O’Dell would be the ultimate challenge. He had to be patient just a little longer.
Now he dipped the iron tire thumper into the vat and watched the acid eat off Lily’s blood and hair. In seconds it’d be clean without a hint of the damage it had done to her skull.
He peeled off his gloves and blood-splattered clothes, stuffing them in a black plastic garbage bag. He’d toss them in a trashreceptacle at the next rest area, somewhere miles from this one, so if someone found them they’d never find a body anywhere in that area. He’d figured that out long ago. No reason to change the process.
Likewise, he had built and customized the back half of his truck into a workshop with everything he needed, not only for his job but also for his hobby. So if anyone checked it out there was no reason to question the array of tools, cleaning solutions, saws, and knives. And because he was on the road so much, he also had all the personal comforts he needed. That included a week’s worth of clothing, shoes, and other accessories.
Some of those accessories served as disguises and included a hearing aid, a cane, an arm sling, Coke-bottle-thick glasses, a neck brace, and a dog leash. It was amazing the simple things that brought people’s guards down. The thought that a stranded motorist might be even more vulnerable because his arm was in a sling or perhaps because he’d lost his dog. He kept a list in his log book of those that worked the best. He observed and studied the things people didn’t seem to notice when they were exhausted from traveling. He kept a list of these as well.
He had already replaced the magnetic sign on the outside of his truck. He had several, all of them creative names of businesses that exuded integrity and trust. The one he just put on read: community rescue unit. Actually he’d gotten the idea from listening to a group of cops at a truck stop café outside Toledo, Ohio. They had just caught a killer using a public works department uniform. Homeowners let him in without question. Almost as good as a uniform was his idea of converting the outside of his truck into a vehicle that people
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