Page 35 of Serial Killer Games

She swirls in the doorway to her office, her hand on her doorknob, and faces me. “I’d have to go withyou?”

“Yes.”

There’s the slightest flush to her cheeks. “I don’t know. My doctor’s warned me about picking up parasites during travel.”

I’ve won. I know I’ve won. I take one step closer to her.

“You might even have fun.”

Her lips twitch and her nostrils flare. “Do I look like the sort of person who has fun?”

“I’ll make you experience things you’ve never felt before.”

She lifts her chin and tilts her head, and she sways a little closer to me. I take all this in. I take another step closer to her until I’m practically standing in the doorway with her.

“I’m sure most women have felt nauseous and regretful before,” she says.

I’ve won, she’s mine, she’s coming. I’m humming along in highest gear now. Dodi, all to myself for a few days.

Her cheeks are pink and her eyes bright. I lean in just a little closer, and she leans in just a little closer too—and shuts her office door in my face.

While Dodi ices me out for the rest of the day, furiouslyhammering away at her laptop, I book plane tickets with Sara, make hotel reservations, and when I have a private moment at my desk, purchase two tickets to theMurderers at Work: Dead in Las Vegasevent.

Gifts are overrated. The trick is to giveexperiences.

15

Kill Bill

Jake

I borrow one of Grant’scars to get to the airport. I take a key fob at random and click it repeatedly in the basement parking until I find the car it belongs to: red, and fast-looking. Dodi will like it. There’s an accident on the way to her apartment building, and after crawling only two blocks in fifteen minutes, I turn onto a side street and coast down a residential road, hang a left, and then drive parallel to the main road.

But then on autopilot, I turn right, past the dog park, the running path that leads to the beach, the weird, artsy private school for the posh kids—and there it is:hisstreet.

I have plenty of time. I can indulge myself. I prowl down the quiet lane, all massive chestnut trees and narrow concrete sidewalks shifted around by the roots underneath. In the summer this street is a tunnel, the sky closed off by the branches above, the sunlight sifting through the leaves like green gold. The houses are big and old, brick and cedar shingle and deep verandas and massive shrub roses. The house in question isshabbier than the others. It’s been years since he was able to get up on a ladder and strip the creeping ivy off the porch.

I come down here sometimes, just to check. Just to make sure he’s still—

I slam the brakes in time to avoid killing the elderly man who has stepped out onto the road from behind an SUV with tinted windows.

“For fuck’s sake!” I shout at no one. The old man turns, and it’s him, of course. Stooped, white-haired, craggy-faced. He’d have a grandfatherly look if he ever smiled, but I don’t think he has much to smile about these days.

“What are you doing out here?” I say through my lowered window. He’s not dressed for the weather—a thin bathrobe and slippers. You have to be fucking kidding me.

“My bin’s making off,” he says, scowling, pointing to where a garbage can is rolling down the road ahead of a strong wind. I park the car and jog after it. When I return with it, he’s staring at me, confused, like he recognizes me, but not where from. It’s unsettling. I avert my face.

“Where do you want this?”

He opens the tall gate at the side of the house, ushers me in, and I deposit the can next to a recycling bin.

“I have to go,” I mutter, still not looking at him. The gate has swung shut, so I push it, but it won’t budge. I grip the handle and rattle it. Then I notice the padlock.

I turn, and the old man is staring me down with a grim face. He’s eighty if he’s a day, frail and shaky. One bare leg is swollen, and his back is stooped, but somehow in his expression I can see him as he was when he was a younger man. Scrappy, bold. Not afraid to get in a fight. One hand is balled into a fist at his side.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“What doIwant? I want you to unlock this gate.”

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