For a moment, he considered altering his plan and walking out with the agent. Then, her grip tightened on the knife, and people started to come out of their shocked stupor.
His gun centered on the agent’s chest.
The onlookers held their collective breaths.
Adjusting his aim to high on her right shoulder, he fired.
He waited only long enough to watch her stumble back and hit the far wall, the knife falling from nerve-less fingers.
Whirling away, he fled.
The helpful couple entered the house as the man tried to leave. He barreled straight into the woman, sending her flying back into the man. They temporarily blocked his path until he finished knocking them over and jumped over their fallen forms.
Screams, shouts, and conflicting orders followed him as he sprinted to his idling car. Leaping in, he peeled away, nearly sideswiping a passing car in the process.
Both drivers leaned on their horns, exchanged curses, and sped away.
***
Toni’s Café
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
The man wished he’d taken the time to grab something to eat, but the drive to Philadelphia from Flourtown went over its projected half-hour. Kidnapping someone in broad daylight pretty much never happened, which is why it would work. He’d parked at the train station and used public transportation to get to Toni’s Café. Leaving his car behind wasn’t easy, but he didn’t have time to switch to something unconnected to him.
The wait for the woman to come out went on forever. Eventually, the man went in and ordered a soda and a sandwich, making sure to be seated far away from his target yet close enough to keep tabs on her. He laid twenty-five dollars on the table to cover the meal in case he needed to leave in a hurry. Thankfully, the café’s service lived up to its stellar reputation, giving the man a chance to eat during his interminable wait.
The target sat with two other young people. They’d clearly finished their meal long ago, but nursed along watery sodas, ignoring the anxious looks from the wait staff. Laughter rang out from their table on a regular basis, drawing annoyed stares from nearby elderly couples. The man wished the target kept a lower profile. At this rate, the entire restaurant would remember everything about her.
Finally, midway through his second cup of coffee in addition to the soda, the target and her friends paid their bill and left. He frowned when he saw them leaving together. The scenarios he’d planned for did not involve multiple people. If the woman left with her friends, he’d have to scrap the plan and try again later. He really didn’t want to do that. Hasty plans rarely worked as well as ones he had time to plan for problems.
Luck favored him. Just outside the main entrance, the target hugged each of her companions and reached into her purse for car keys. She’d been fortunate enough to find a parking spot close to the entrance. He waited impatiently for some distance to open between the woman and her friends. They were still uncomfortably close as she unlocked the car and started walking around the back toward the driver’s seat.
He’d have to improvise.
“Ma’am!” he called, rushing out the café’s front door. “Did you forget this?” He jogged casually toward her, holding up his cell phone.
The woman paused and glanced around to make sure he was talking to her. Then, she shook her head to let him know that the phone didn’t belong to her.
By this time, he’d closed the distance between them. Thinking fast, he pretended to trip, knocking the woman’s keys out of her hands as he stumbled forward.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, as they both knelt to retrieve the keys. “I have no idea what happened.”
“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Don’t worry about it.”
In that time, he’d traded his phone for a small gun that fit in the palm of his right hand. As the woman’s fingers gripped the keys, his left hand clamped around her forearm. Their bodies and the bulk of her car shielded the move from any passersby on the sidewalk. He held out his right hand palm up so she could clearly see the gun. Her expression rapidly changed from surprised to shocked to horrified.
The car chose that moment to relock itself.
The woman sucked in sharply to let out a scream, but he released her arm and slammed his hand across her mouth. His palm covered the entire lower half of her face. The only sound to escape her was a surprised squeak.
“Leave the keys. I’ll take them and unlock the car. You stand quietly and get in the driver’s seat. I’m going to climb into the back. Once we’re settled, you get the keys back and you drive where I tell you to. Nod if you understand.”
She nodded but anger glittered in her eyes, telling him she’d do something stupid at the first opportunity.
“You try anything, and I’ll track down Chris and Dana.” The man hoped he’d remembered the names correctly from her appointment calendar.
The tension in her shoulders and the fear in her eyes convinced him his memory was accurate.
The second nod was slower and more sincere than the first.
He left his hand in place a second longer, drilling his sincerity into her with his eyes.
“Get up,” he ordered, using his grip on her face to urge her to rise.
Midway up, he let go and spun around behind her, making sure she felt the gun’s muzzle touch her back.
“Stand still,” he said quietly. Bending down, he retrieved the keys and unlocked the car. “In.”
Opening the back door, he paused and waited while the target climbed in. Once both doors shut, he tossed the keys onto the front passenger seat and spoke in a normal volume.
“My gun is still leveled at your back.”
“Who are you? What do you want?” The woman sounded numb, like the questions only came out of her because they were hardwired into every kidnapping victim in history.
“Never mind that. You want to live, you buckle up and drive,” said the man. “Start by taking this street four blocks and making a left at the light.”
A long silence fell as the woman contemplated her options. As the man opened his mouth to voice more threats, she leaned over and picked up the car keys. For a second, he thought she’d choose the hard way and toss the keys out the window, but she merely slipped the key into the ignition and started the vehicle.
A slow, sad country song filled the air.
With shaking fingers, the woman poked the off button on the radio and a new silence took over.
The man started to relax. He had his prize. Now, he just had to deliver her.
Chapter 35:
Dying Wish
The Killer’s Lair
Undisclosed Location
Andrew Novak frowned. He should be excited. Seven apprentice candidates had posted genuine interest in working with him. Although he hadn’t requested it, they often privately messaged him their top target choices. Everybody had at least one person after them, so it would be interesting to see who won the race. Despite this, his thoughts dwelt on the two women staying in his holding cells.
Layla O’Malley and Natasha Creswell spent most of their time talking so quietly the cameras couldn’t pick up on it. Any time he walked in, they fell silent, hands clasped in a show of unity. Silence usually didn’t bother him, but for some reason, their quiet hostility hurt.
Tucked in his chair before the bank of monitors, Andrew watched his captives. He’d muted the sound since it didn’t help anyway, but subtle movements told him Layla was doing most of the talking. During the past few days, the women spent hours sitting side by side in their cells, heads tilted toward each other. It was sickening.
Layla’s the problem.
Once the tiny thought formed, Andrew felt its truth immediately. If he wanted to enjoy the anticipation of the day, he would need to deal with the Layla issue. He’d avoided making a decision thus far by keeping busy with the search for an apprentice and good memories from the last kill. Stephanie’s murder no longer excited him, and his would-be apprentices were busy w
ith their final exam.
He had nothing to do.
Slaughtering online characters held no satisfaction now that he could have any weapon he ever wanted. Lack of challenge meant boredom, a horrible fate.
Determined to seize control, Andrew stood and stared hard at Layla through the monitor screens. If he dealt with her, perhaps he could enjoy the anticipation of the apprentice competition.
Leaning back and closing his eyes, Andrew pondered the ways he could kill Layla. None of the methods tried already seemed right for her. He admired her courage in giving her friend the ticket that would delay her fate. That deserved some consideration. Guns were too impersonal. Knives had the opposite problem. He needed something easy to clean up today. His apprentice candidates could call at any minute with news of success.
Electrocution would be fun, but he ruled it out as too complicated to set up at the moment. Drowning was out because he’d done that to Stephanie. Pushing Layla off a tall building would be new, but he’d need to do some heavy duty research before attempting such a thing. The logistics of getting into and up a high enough building to kill her then getting safely out were enormous. He could go old fashioned and hang her, but most of the trees on his property were too flimsy to bear the weight. Suffocation and lethal injection were also viable options.
Perhaps Layla would have an opinion. Who was he kidding? Of course, she’d have an opinion. The woman bled opinions left and right. Still, it pleased him to let her choose the manner of death.
Wandering into the workroom, he grabbed a small stack of the chosen lottery ticket: Quick Six Riches. He wasn’t sure of the wisdom in using tickets to count his kill incidents, but it felt right so far. Once he got past ten he might have trouble finding appropriate tickets, but he’d deal with that problem if and when it arose. He might just start over with one again in a new location. Every state had some form of lottery, and even if they didn’t he had enough tickets in his stock to see him through a good decade’s worth of work.
As expected, his two captives stopped talking when he entered. Something about the way he strode in must have alerted them to this visit being different. Both women stood up. Layla’s grip on Natasha’s hand increased, causing the other woman to wince.
He stopped in front of Layla’s cell and reached for the Taser. To his satisfaction, fear forced Layla to drop her friend’s hand and shrink back into the corner.
“Please. Don’t,” said Natasha. As he started to line up the shot, she spoke faster, sounding winded. “You don’t have to do this.”
“But I want to,” he said. “It’ll be fun.”
Remembering the lottery tickets in his other hand, Andrew lowered the Taser and tossed in the six loose Quick Six Riches tickets. Drawing out a quarter from his pocket, he flipped it neatly onto the haphazard stack.
“Pick one,” he instructed. “If you win, you get to choose how you die. If you lose, I’ll make the decision.”
“What are the choices?” Layla asked. Her tone lacked much inflection, but the tightened fists showed him her struggle to keep calm.
“Suffocation and lethal injection,” he answered. “Those will be easiest to clean up. Do you have a preference?”
“Which is less painful?” she inquired. This time, fear softened her voice to a whisper.
“Not sure,” he said honestly. “I don’t have the official combination states use in their injections, so I’ll be improvising, but that will likely be quicker.”
“Go with that then,” she said, fighting to force words from her dry throat.
“You’re not going to try to win?” he asked.
Layla only shook her head briefly, sliding down the wall until she sat curled in the corner. Resting her head against the back wall, Layla blinked rapidly to contain tears. Natasha knelt beside her and gripped her left shoulder. For a second, it looked like Natasha would speak, but her mouth shut and she bowed her head.
“Are you going to let her die for you?” Andrew demanded, surprising everybody with the force behind the question.
Natasha was speechless, but her eyes drifted to the fallen lottery tickets then up to Andrew again.
The idea struck him at the same time as it must have occurred to her, for she started to stand. Picking up on the shifts around her, Layla stared up at her friend then glanced over at Andrew. Moving faster than he thought possible, Layla dove for the tickets, scooped up the entire stack, and started ripping them to pieces.
“Stop!” Andrew ordered.
Layla responded by tearing another ticket to shreds.
The Taser prongs leapt out and caught Layla in the chest, knocking her over backward. Twin screams sailed through Andrew, giving him a thrill. Unlocking the door, he slipped into the cell and rescued the remaining tickets. After removing the prongs from Layla, Andrew tossed the momentarily useless Taser out of the cell and kicked the quarter over to Natasha.
“You win; you get to decide who lives and dies. You lose, and her decision stands,” Andrew explained, tucking the remaining tickets into Natasha’s cell.
Four tickets remained.
Natasha wasted no time in furiously scratching the tickets clear. Her eyes devoured the tickets, as hope and fear flickered across her expression.
“Let me see them?” Andrew doubted she’d understand what she was reading in her current state of mind.
A thorough review of the tickets revealed them to be losers. Given the statistics of winning lottery tickets, that many losers in a row meant Layla had probably torn up a winner. Meeting Natasha’s eyes, he shook his head. She cast a worried look at her friend. Scrambling as close as the bars would allow, Natasha addressed her friend.
“Layla, listen to me. You don’t have to do this. You have so much to live for.”
Struggling to sit up, Layla avoided her friend’s intense gaze.
Andrew enjoyed the drama unfolding between them. He waited anxiously for a final decision.
“Layla?” he asked. “Do you have anything to say?”
The renewed flare of agitation pleased him.
“You’re wrong, but I stand by my decision.”
Andrew wanted to preserve the moment, but it vanished.
“So be it,” he murmured, trying to think what movie he’d heard that in. “I’ll go make some preparations then bring you and your friend some food. Then, we’ll do this.”
The plan proceeded as predicted. He found some off-brand drugs that would paralyze her and put her to sleep. Then, he found some amphetamines that would overload her heart. In theory, she should die of a heart attack in her sleep. The last meal was a frozen pizza, but Layla barely touched it.
He thought he’d have to use the Taser again in moving her to the dental chair, but she followed directions without protest. She didn’t even cry until he held the mouthpiece up for her to bite down on.
“Don’t be scared,” he whispered. “It’ll be like going to sleep.”
“I may not be your first victim,” said Layla, conviction coming through clearly. “But I hope I’m your last.” She looked like she wanted to say much more, but she bit down on the mouthpiece.
The simple last words echoed in his mind as he prepared the injections. The distraction was so complete he nearly missed her arm with the first shot. Somehow, he finished, but he walked away before the drugs completed their deadly task. He needed some fresh air.
Chapter 36:
Special Delivery
Abandoned Parking Lot
Chester County, Pennsylvania
“He’ll be here soon,” the kidnapper promised.
Jennifer Kerman ignored him. They’d been parked in this weed-filled lot for almost an hour. The drive from Philly had taken about an hour and fifteen minutes. A dozen half-baked plans tumbled through her head. She would have tried one of them ages ago if she didn’t believe the man would carry out his threat to go after Dana and Chris. She also had the nagging feeling she’d met him before.
Why me?
The tiny quest
ion wouldn’t leave her alone. The endless litany of assurances that someone would be here soon told her this guy had no intention of keeping her. That was both comforting and disturbing. Putting a few hundred miles between her and this guy would certainly be good, but the idea of being handed over to somebody else frightened her deeply. Nobody kidnapped people for free, so it followed that the “somebody” they were meeting had paid for this pending meeting. To her knowledge, she hadn’t made any career enemies yet. Forensic scientists, especially ones right out of college, rarely generated the sort of enemies that prompted paid kidnappings.
Sam?
Her brother’s only major case was the Parkside Killer, and that had been dragging on for months. The body showing up outside his apartment had caused a brief surge in media attention, but by now even that had waned. Sam never babbled about case progress, but Jenn could usually read his moods. If he were close to breaking the case open, he’d be practically bouncing on his toes.
Ransom?
She dismissed that reason right away. Part of her wished her folks were rich enough to tempt kidnappers, but middle-aged, semi-retired librarians and civil engineers did not earn enviable money.
Random?
That was by far the scariest possibility. Psychopaths who targeted random people tended to do their own dirty work. She was too old for most types of sicko, opportunistic predators.
A white van pulled up alongside her red Elantra.
“Get out,” ordered the kidnapper.
Not wanting to get shot, Jenn opened the car door, got stuck on the seat belt, freed herself, and tried again. Force of habit made her take the car keys with her. The kidnapper leapt out of the back seat and trained his tiny gun on her. His ease with the weapon told her she probably wouldn’t die by accident, but he could always change his mind about handing her over and kill her on purpose. As the doors slammed shut, she remembered leaving her purse on the front passenger seat. It felt weird to not have the bag’s reassuring weight in her arms.
“Give me the keys.”
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