Page 52 of Riding Danger

23

THE SMALL TOWN KILLER

The nerve of that asshole. How dare he try and pin his sloppy work on me. As if the police would fall for that. The boys in blue may be idiots but the coroner was not. I had a guess that since it was never mentioned in the press that I had carved out the maps of the place those assholes had abandoned their children, that the murderer knew nothing about them.

Which meant, even if the press were reporting that the body was one of mine, the people investigating likely knew better. They knew they were looking for two killers. Surely it was obvious the guy was trying to pin his work on me. But he didn’t know what I did.

I had a code. That was the deal I made with my maker. I would rid the world of men who didn’t know how to be fathers and in turn he would clear my path to do my job. He gave me the resources to get the job done. And I would use each and every one of them. No innocent lives would be lost, no child would go unavenged. Every man who had neglected his duties would be taken care of. No excuses would be tolerated. And oh… they all had excuses.

Just like the sorry asshole across the street.

With a slow smile I looked into the rearview mirror. My face was nearly make-up free and my hair in a high ponytail. Only one thing was needed to add to the innocent look. I applied the pale pink lip gloss lightly across my lips. I pulled on my cream oversized cardigan before stepping out of my car.

It was important he didn’t see I had a vehicle. I straightened my faded denim skirt with the buttons running up the front. The knee length hem made it deceptively demure, but those buttons put images in men’s heads.

I recalled my mother wearing a similar outfit on the nights she left me. Except she didn’t wear a cardigan. No, she would wear a thin tank top and she was almost always braless. That would not be me. Braless women were sluts. Sluts who couldn’t hold on to their children’s fathers.

The man across the street was not paying attention to his surroundings. Quickly, I dipped around the corner. Once more I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Catching my prey always filled me with a shot of anxiety. I didn’t know if I was born for this work, but someone had to do it. And I was the best person for the job.

Casually, I rounded the corner as I strolled across the road timing myself well. I held the syringe in my hand perfectly poised for maximum efficiency. According to all my research, the man was only a few years older than me. Far too young to be my father, but I could work with that. I had before, and I would again.

As I strolled down the other side of the street, the man made my job easier by checking whatever was interesting on his phone instead of paying attention to me. I didn’t even need to change course in order to bump into him.

The collision was the easy part. My shoulder to his upper arm. After that the rest was simple. I went to the ground and clutched my ankle.

“Ow. I’m so clumsy sometimes.” My legs twisted just enough to offer the asshole a glimpse up my skirt. “I’m so sorry, Mister.”

As predicted, the man crouched down in front of me. “No, it was my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He held out a hand to me. “Can you walk? Let me help you up.”

With that he grabbed my waist and I placed my arm around his neck. “Thank you, Mister. I think it's only twisted.”

“Not a prob?—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before I had the syringe plunged into his neck. I watched as realization hit. As the light faded from his eyes. The balance of weight shifted from him to me. That was why I had chosen this location. The man, Denny as his friends call him, was a busy man and always surrounded by people. But he was also having an affair with a prominent senator. Meeting after dark where there were no witnesses, made my life a lot easier. Not all the assholes were so sloppy.

As our weight shifted, I moved Denny across the road to my car. Fortunately, the timing of bumping into him had been perfect since the only distance we had to cover was the width of the street. I shoved him into the front seat, so he couldn’t surprise me from behind if he woke up earlier than expected. I pulled the zip ties from the glove compartment and made quick work of binding his hands. Then I pulled out the duct tape and bound his feet. I preferred the thicker zip ties but the store I used was out. And riding around the state looking for my tools seemed like a good way to get caught. I needed the silver tape anyway to keep him from shouting. Finding materials which didn’t leave any trace was difficult. The best alternative to that was to use materials that were so common, trying to find the owner was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

That was my solution to keeping my victims quiet. I had no doubt the autopsy report would indicate a sticky residue around the mouth. I also had no doubt the crime lab would report that the tape used was so common it was not worth investigating. Lazy fuckers.

Lastly, I placed a pair of blue latex gloves on his hands. Assholes who knew they were about to die, tried to be clever. I had no doubt as soon as this asshole had a little bit of energy back, he would claw at me, making sure my skin was under his nails. A problem compounded by the fact that everyone who was rescued from the DeMarchis Cartel had their DNA on record. It was never forced on us, but recommended in case complications occurred later in life. Heaven forbid one of us hooked up with a sibling or a cousin or something.

By the time I pulled up at the warehouse I had rented, Denny started stirring. Usually, the distance I travelled was about an hour from my base. But it was something I needed to take into consideration. This asshole was from Walker Lake. And I hadn’t anticipated the drive. My next victim would be from Marina De Ferrier making the drive a little longer. I needed to calibrate for that. Or find another site. Especially if I intended moving further south.

I debated whether or not to drug him some more. I had no doubt he would struggle some as I placed him on the gurney.

I stopped the car and ran around the front to collect the gurney. It was surprisingly easy to secure one. The emergency entrance to San Diego Memorial was not very secure and so often no one was watching who entered and exited. All I needed was a set of blue scrubs and the right attitude.

Denny attempted a struggle as soon as I opened the passenger door. Not that I didn’t love a challenge, but the last thing I needed was to draw attention. The area was mostly deserted, but there were a few night guards around thesurrounding warehouses, not to mention the thriving homeless community not too far away.

“We can do this the hard way, if it suits.” I pulled another syringe from my pocket. “I have nothing but time. I can wait another few hours before you come to.”

The man didn’t heed my warning. Putting the needle to his throat delayed my process by another few hours. I turned him over and strapped him to the gurney, then patiently waited for him to regain consciousness. The wait had me imagining all sorts of things. All the things I wanted to do. But I needed to stay the course. I’d already had to change up a few things to make up for the extra distance. Besides, this was not a fun exercise. It was my job, my calling. But certainly, I would need to get a warehouse closer to my next target. That was the mistake I made with this one.

24

SHILOH

It had been just over a decade since I had seen Ryder in concert. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had shows in San Diego since then, I just couldn’t bring myself to see him live again. There was a part of me that worried that one look and all those feelings would be stirred up once more. And I was right.

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