Page 69 of Killer Clone

I was all out of assistants, and I didn’t have time to start building relationships and scouting possibilities. With the agents circling, my next victim had to be quick and easy. I had to go back to basics.

And what better way to let my targets know I was on their tail than to take out one of the witnesses they’d spoken to?

That was why I’d gone to the mortician’s and why I was here at the soup kitchen. These were the two places in Nashville that Otto went to regularly. The FBI must’ve interviewed some folks in both places.

The problem, however, was where?

Where would I lure them to?

The alley where I’d targeted Yates…there was no one around, no one in the way, but that had meant that I couldn’t get close without being seen. And shooting at a distance wasn’t my forte. And the college had been all wrong because it had been overly populated. No way I could’ve escaped that zoo had I opened fire on Knox.

The location…that was the problem. I’d picked spots I knew I could bring them. I needed to choose a place where I knew I could kill them.

If I was going to shoot one of them at a time, the killing had to be on my terms, not theirs. On my ground. Not on the street.

I needed to be in control.

My home away from home. The abandoned warehouse where I’d already spilled blood.

I put the truck in park and walked in. There was the smell of breakfast in the air, wafting from trays of eggs, bacon, and pancakes warming in the cafeteria. On the other side of the room, a group of homeless men and women were shoveling the stuff into their gaping mouths.

A woman dishing out the food looked at me and smiled. “Hey, hun, you’re just in time. We’re about to finish breakfast. Grab a plate.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“That’s fine, sweetie. Just get yourself some of this.”

My stomach rumbled at the sight of hot food. Ever since I’d arrived in Nashville, I’d been surviving on protein bars and whatever takeout Otto had been thoughtful enough to bring over. And of course, he wasn’t here to do that anymore.

I figured, why not? I needed to build up my strength. I took a plate and cutlery and placed them on a tray.

The woman smiled at me again. “What would you like?”

“A little of everything, please.”

She loaded me up, starting with some biscuits and pouring gravy over them.

“Say, if I’m remembering right, you knew Otto Walker, didn’t you?”

Her face fell. She lifted the tray on top of the bar, and I took it. “I met him a couple times. Terrible what happened. Were you friends?”

I nodded and pretended to look sad. “Yeah. He was probably my best friend.”

“I’m sorry, hun. What a tragedy.”

“So true. Any idea about what’s going on in the investigation? They catch anyone yet?”

She shook her head. “I really don’t know. But, hey, that man right there, guy sitting at the far table? He might know something. He was talking to the FBI about it yesterday. Right here, in fact.”

I looked over at the disheveled man finishing his breakfast. He was perfect.

It would be easy to lure him back to the warehouse. I’d offer him some extra food. An invitation to stay at my home for a few days—plenty of space there for everyone—and I’d have everything I needed.

Joy swelled within me. I was there. Things were rolling again at last.

The woman behind the counter was looking at me, and I realized I’d been lost in thought.

“That’s great, thank you. I think I’ll let him finish his breakfast in peace. I’ll catch him outside when he leaves.”

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