by James Tayler
I casually got up, folded my newspaper in half and walked towards his car. I carefully pulled the handle, climbed in with the discarded fast food cartons in the back seat. I covered myself with all of them, becoming like a hidden treat amongst the garbage. I held my breath, tried not to move a muscle, until finally he got back inside the vehicle.
Chapter three
“I see all of these people and I just want to turn the steering wheel. I want to drive over every damn one of them. My father was right and people do suck. I thought that I could get past that feeling of blood lust running through my veins. I’ve had to contend with police officers staring at me through the darkness. They’re not there now and tonight is the night that I finally use the weapon that my father left me in his will. I don’t know if he would be proud of me, but I don’t really care.” He was demented and his sense of right and wrong had been skewed by some kind of mutation in his DNA.
I’d gotten a hold of his medical records and found out that he was dealing with a genetic anomaly. Nobody could really say what the genetic anomaly could do to him. He cared not for humanity and thought that they were a waste of skin. He could’ve gone to therapy, but I think that he loved this side of his personality. It allowed him to live free and away from the ridicule of those that he worked under at the call center.
“I’m going to take a drive after supper, find my victim and then wait, until I see the fear in their eyes. I’ll know who it is from the callous way that they disregard traffic rules.” I had no idea that that was how he determined who was going to come under scrutiny. I suppose every serial killer has a certain way that makes them different than everybody else. “Tonight, I finally get that full and uninterrupted sleep that I’m looking for. Without this outlet, I pace the floor every night, until I have to take prescribed medications. I hate the way that they make me feel.” He was a fairly normal looking guy.
He wore that black baseball hat to hide the shame of male pattern baldness. He wore his displeasure for those women that probably laughed at him, as a badge of honor. He liked to be the one in control and this was the only way that he could have that in his life. There was no wife or kids, so I wasn’t going to leave those young impressionable minds orphans. I wasn’t going to leave a woman widowed and having no idea that her husband was capable of such heinous acts.
I could’ve easily waited, until he got back to his place to spring on him. I wanted that moment inside his inner circle to really get a feel for the man. Hearing his thoughts had proved to me that I was doing the right thing for all concerned. He could not be allowed to live, but dying quickly was something that he did not deserve. He needed to feel the same kind of pain that his victims felt, before that final bullet came his way.
Thankfully, I had turned off both phones. The one that I had cloned his from and the one that was left to me by that waitress were not going to go off prematurely. I didn’t know if this person was watching and I think that I was hoping that they were I wanted them to see me at my best and hopefully that might turn their attention away from trying anything. I could forgive this man’s trespasses, but only if he was willing to let bygones be bygones.
“I need some liquid encouragement.” He got out, slamming the door and going into the small one bedroom bungalow that looked like it was going to fall apart at any second. The baby blue paint was peeling and I could tell that he was not much for being any kind of handyman. It was the only house on the block that was covered by a copse of trees to hide the fact that he was up to something.
There had been a lot of publicity around the man that had killed all those people in the span of two years. I’m sure that Timothy Rogan knew that his time was limited. He probably wanted to stop what he was doing, but there was no way that he could with the sickness that was deep into his very soul. I knew that he was destined to feel something of justice, but I had no idea if he was going to be on the receiving end of something that I was going to give him.
I lay there and contemplated what I was going to do to him. I breathed deeply, moved slowly and before I knew it I was outside under the cover of darkness. Working within the shadows was exactly where I was most comfortable. If this man was watching me all this time, then I had no doubt that he was out there right now enjoying the spectacle that I was putting on. I didn’t do it for anybody other than myself. There was no fame or fortune in my future. I did not want the notoriety or to be some groupies role model to mimic what I did. It would be nice to pass on the legacy, but even I knew that this was not a normal way of living my life.
I crawled along the perimeter, sneaking peeks into the house to see that he was slapping his face and drinking what looked like a bottle of cheap vodka that you would find in any liquor store in the area. I think that he was psyching himself up. It had been some time since he had gotten a taste of what it was like to see that fear in someone’s eyes.
I heard through the window “I’m going to do it tonight and I don’t care if I get caught. Going to jail is a small price to pay. I’ll be famous and people will want to write about me in the history books. I’ll have book deals and movie deals from those that want to exploit what I’ve done. I will be sensationalized, splashed on every newspaper and media outlet that there is known to man. I only wish that they could have kept me in jail that last time. I was totally surprised by how easily my lawyer had been able to work within the law to get me released.” He was apparently someone that liked to talk to himself. He didn’t have anybody else to talk to, so there was nobody to argue with.
He went into the kitchen and there was no way that he had done any kind of cooking. I could see a medley of fast food takeout menus. It appeared that he was quite happy with calling in his order and waiting for them to arrive to place it in his greedy little hands.
I wanted to do something that was going to send a message to anyone that thought that they could become famous by doing these things to those of the innocence. They would look at his body after I was done with it and know that someone had decided to intervene on behalf of those people that thought that they were safe. He was an equal opportunity killer. He did not care who it was, but I’d heard by his own words that he knew from just looking at them that they were the one that needed to be made an example out of. I’m sure that the police had no idea that he was going after those that had committed traffic infractions.
I moved along the side of the house, keeping close to the wall to make it almost impossible for somebody to detect me. Nobody would even miss this man. People had talked about him, as being a loner and never really socializing with anybody within the community. He did not enjoy speaking in public and confrontation was the one thing that he avoided at all costs. It was a wonder that he still had a job. They were probably worried that he would slap them with a defamation lawsuit or wrongful dismissal lawsuit. They didn’t want the hassle, so they stuck him someplace where he wasn’t going to do anybody any harm. I had found out that he was in the basement.
I found that the back porch light had been broken. Pieces of the bulb were still lying on the wood grain exterior. He hadn’t bothered to clean it up. It could’ve been him that did it in the first place or a disgruntled neighbor that had decided to voice his concerns in the only way that he knew how.
I tried the door, but of course it was locked. That wasn’t going to stop me. A well placed pick from my lock pick set made those tumblers fall into place with ease. I actually learned the art of picking a lock from you tube videos that I had found on the Internet. It was amazing what you could find nowadays and even if I wanted to build the bomb, I could easily find the contents on how to make it out of household supplies. The easiest way was to throw some chemicals into a microwave, turn it on and then walk away and let the timer do its work.
I open the door slowly and I could hear some god awful singing coming from down the hallway in the bathroom. The sound of the shower was a good indication that he had decided to freshen up, before going out to commit these acts. I moved into the livi
ng room, arranged things in exactly the right way to mitigate the need to wipe down the services after I was done.
I took a kitchen chair from inside the dining room. I put it in the center of the living room and began to attach the chains to the arms and legs. This was not my typical way, but I thought this was fitting. I would show the man that was after me that I remembered every tiny little detail of those 13 days.
THE END
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EXCERPT:
Adam bent his head to her firm breasts and sucked first one nipple, then the other. She moaned and cupped his head in her hands. Exerting pressure, she guided his head down further, over her belly, until his face was nestled between her legs. His tongue delved into her and moved over her in long, languid strokes as he enjoyed the taste of her.
“Ooohh, yes Clint, yes, that’s it, right there, that’s the place….” She said, encouraging him. When his tongue centered on her clit her hips jumped and she released his head and gathered the bed sheet into her hands, twisting it as he continued to suck her.
“Og, God!” she moaned, as his tongue began to lash out at her. Flicking over her, bringing her closer and closer to climax, again.
“Op,” she pleaded, groping for him, “up, please, I need you in me….”
He mounted her then and thrust into her, and she exploded beneath him, writhing as if she were trying to get out from under him, and at the same time closer to him….
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The Job Hunt.
Judy Garret toyed nervously with her braid as she waited in her age old Honda Civic on the driveway leading to the big mansion. She had arrived a few moments late, but Clint Adam wasn’t at home. She had spoken with the elderly housekeeper on the intercom at the gate, and had been asked to wait outside. Paranoia was running high….which, she decided, was good under the circumstance.
Another ten minutes had passed, and Clint Adam still hadn’t shown up. Staring at the closed security gate, Judy prayed that he hadn’t made other arrangements. After all she had gone through to get Justin Tarr, at the employment agency that would be the last straw.
Judy was absolutely determined to make it as a personal aid. The excitement of the job appealed to her. Since the job in question was something in line for a male with a lot of muscle. True, a lot of work was routine and sheer drudgery, but the payoff was there, and that’s what she lived for.
Judy understood the billionaire mentality and knew what to expect. Besides, with any luck, Clint Adam would be off most of the time, leaving his little daughter in her care. The first order of business, though, was to land the job.
Sighing wearily, Judy looked at the view that extended from the lake to the high rise of the hills. Clint Adam’s palatial house sat on the very top of a hill offering a spectacular vista of the entire lake.
The palatial house itself was fairly new, probably built by Adam himself. It was continental in style, with a red-tiled roof, the house was sparkling white and the roof was covered with aqua tiles. The sweeping lawn was studded with royal palms. Next to the house were beds planted with flowering shrubs.
Judy looked at her watch again. Adam was over half an hour late. Not a good sign. During the drive from the agency office, she’d given herself a pep talk, but now she was having doubts. Maybe she was desperate …..Too desperate to hide it.
Adjusting her sunglasses, she glanced into the side mirror. There was still no sign of any vehicle. Was she going to be disappointed by Adam?
Impatiently Judy got out of the car, flipping her braid over her shoulder as she leaned against the fender, and glanced down the road in the direction he would have to come. She smoothed the front of her dress. Its hem was well above her knees and the neckline was low enough to reveal a little cleavage. Usually she preferred pants for working, but her mother had insisted that sex appeal was essential where the rich were concerned. Judy didn’t like the idea, but she deferred to her mother’s familiarity with how egotistical the rich were likely to think.
Judy folded her arms under her breasts and ran her eyes over the gate and high wall surrounding Adam’s property. The wall was obviously designed to turn away the curious, the stargazers, and the tourists. But it wasn’t much of a deterrent to someone determined to get inside.
Just as she glanced at her watch again, she heard a car coming up the road, a flash of sunlight reflected off the windshield; she saw the sheen of silver paint and chrome. It was a Jaguar Sedan, and it was moving fast. She figured it was him.
Her stomach muscles tightened as she stood upright; the car slowed, finally stopping across the road at the gate she’d been watching. The driver looked her way momentarily, then punched his code into the automatic security panel, and the gate swung open.
Judy got her purse from the car and started walking across the road. Before she reached the gate, it closed. The Jaguar moved on up the long drive to the palatial house and the man behind the wheel got out. He turned and looked toward her, seeming to hesitate for a moment.
“Mr. Adam!” she called.
He put his hands on his hips as though he were undecided, then began saunting back down the drive. The sunlight reflected off his pure white shirt. Even though he had on large dark glasses, Judy could tell that it was in fact Clint Adam.
His face was familiar, though even more handsome in real life than on the screen. Adam had done a few very successful western movies and his fame had blossomed spectacularly in the last couple of years in a television series. He was a highly rated star now.
As she watched him near her, she could see that Adam was taller than she’d expected. He had one of those elegant male bodies associated with athletes and swimmers. His face was largely obscured by his dark glasses, but Judy knew from pictures she had seen that he had beautiful eyes, great cheek bones and a long narrow nose that gave his face an aristocratic air.
But it was his wide, wry mouth that saved him from being too handsome. In every role she had seen him in there had been a mocking, vaguely naughty irreverence in his smile that said he didn’t take things too seriously. And it was his smile that drew her as she neared the closed gate.
She felt her heart begin to race as he came up to her, and she wasn’t quite sure why, unless it was nerves.
Adam ran his fingers back through his dark auburn hair, his mouth grew wider. Though there was an air of friendliness about him, Judy didn’t think of him that way.
“Got a pencil?” he asked before Judy could speak.
“A pencil?” She was caught off guard by the question
“Yeah, something to write with.” He patted the pocket less front of his silk shirt.
“I don’t have anything.”
Judy swung her purse off her shoulder and dug around until she found a ballpoint pen. She handed it over. Adam’s mouth twisted with amusement, “I’ll need something to write on,” he said, his hand poking toward her through the bars.
“Do I look like a secretary?” she snapped before she’d managed to squelch the comment. She sucked in her breath and watched him carefully, but there was no way to discern his reaction to her comment. His eyes were completely obscured by the tinted lenses of his glasses. She pulled an old grocery list from her purse and handed it to him, waiting to see what was next.
He turned the paper over and began writing. Then, as he looked up, his smile broadened…from the way his head moved, Judy could tell he was scanning her body. He handed everything back through the bars, his teeth gleaming.
“Are you visiting, or are you from out of town?” he asked.
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Just curious. You don’t look like….most of them.” Adam gestured toward the slip of paper, which she read. It simply said, “To a gorgeous girl. Best wishes, Clint Adam.” Judy shook her head with confusion. “What’s this?”
“My autograph. What did you expect me to write, ‘Clint Eastwood’?”
Suddenly sh
e realized what had happened and laughed. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mr. Adam. I’m not here for an autograph.”
He pushed his glasses up to his hair, exposing his eyes. They had an ironic twinkle….and not the remotest trace of embarrassment. “You mean you’re not an autograph hunter?”
She shook her head.
“What, may I ask, do you want, then? No, let me guess,” he said, lifting his hand. “You’re a summons server. My ex and her lawyer are at it again.” He surveyed her body again. “The short skirt, the legs, the enticing butt and mouth are to lure me into range.”
Judy shook her head once more then took off her sunglasses. “If that were my purpose, you’d already have the summons in your hand.”
Adam rubbed his chin. A good point there.”
They looked at each other for quite a while. He noticed that Judy’s eyes were indeed beautiful, so were her face and her kissable mouth. He assessed her. “You’re not a robber or a hit lady. I’d already be dead.”
She smiled, reluctant to end the game. “True.”
He put his hands on his hips. “All right, who or what are you?” he asked.
Judy reached into her purse and removed her nickel-plated 9mm automatic. She had the presence of mind not to point it at him, but he backed off anyway.
“I’m Judy Garret, Mr. Adam,” she said. “And if you’d already hired me to provide security for you and your family, I wouldn’t have allowed you to walk out here to talk to a perfect stranger at the gate.”
Adam swallowed hard, but he didn’t flinch. “You’re Judy Garret?”
“Yes, I believe, we had an appointment….” She checked her watch “….thirty-five minutes ago.”
He managed to pull himself together and regain his composure. “I apologize for being late, Miss. Garret, and I hope you’ll forgive me for thinking you were a fan. I didn’t realize who you were because, frankly, I was expecting a man.”
