He paced through the empty house, glad to be alone for a while instead of cozying up with his lover.
While he couldn’t see a way of getting to her, he could still niggle. Behave like that little Jack Russell that lived next door. Bark and harry. Snap at her heels. Get her to start looking over her shoulder again.
The radio broadcast in the background caught his attention. He hated the damn thing and tuned it out, but his lover liked to keep up with the play, harbored an interest in politics.
“…and in the latest poll results, Ashley Townsend has taken the lead for the first time, surging ahead of the incumbent National party. Her brand of honesty and her stance on bullying plus her other social policies have struck a note with the voting public. It will be interesting to see what the results are in the next poll.
“And in other news, the teachers’ union is warning of strike action if their demands are ignored…”
He cursed under his breath. How could she be ahead in the polls? His social media posts had taken off. People had commented on them, shared them. The fuckin’ things had gone viral in some cases. Yet, somehow, she’d still managed to swing the public in her favor.
Well.
He strode through the empty house in another fast circuit. He itched to break something, to grab a knife and slam it into her soft flesh. Instead, he stomped into his bedroom, his hand pressing to his temple in an attempt to will away the aching throb in his head. He spotted the bag of soft toys meant for the local Hospice charity store after their cleanup. He grabbed the bag and heaved it at the bed, desperate for a physical release.
Stuffed bears, a lone doll, a woolen lamb spewed from the plastic carrier bag.
At the end of his control, he grabbed the nearest stuffed animal and wrenched off its head. The act took energy. A surprising amount. The soft fabric ripped, and he ended up with a dog’s head in one hand and the stuffing-filled body in the other.
A dog.
He stared at the pink tongue that flopped from the toy’s open mouth, his eyes filling with furious tears.
It wasn’t right.
Thiswasn’t right.
Ashley Townsend needed to suffer as he’d suffered. She shouldn’t escape punishment.
He refused to let her.
Determined, he retrieved the plastic bag and shoved the discarded toys back into their temporary home. He’d deliver the bag to the charity store as he’d promised. Once he did that, he’d return to the West Coast beach—his private hideaway. He’d walk barefooted along the warm black sand, and he’d think. He’d plan.
He’d formulate a strategy to end this stalemate.
Sweet revenge.
Once he achieved what he wanted, the voices in his head would fade, sated by his success.
He’d have a clean slate. Start over.
A chuckle escaped him as muscle memory walked him through the house around the circuit he traveled so frequently.
Once he succeeded, he’d move to Australia. Maybe he’d travel farther afield and hit the tourist spots that’d tickled his curiosity. Although he’d gone overseas, most of his experience was in war zones. Sandpits.
He barked out another laugh. He’d been happy in the sand. Seemed he had an affinity.
The beach it was since he always did his best thinking in the sea air while he listened to the surf rumble into shore.
And meantime…
Yes, that would work.
When his footsteps took him back to the bedroom, he plucked the head and the torso of the dog off the floor. He found an old shoebox, destined for the rubbish and placed the dog inside. On the way to the beach, he’d stop at a post office. He’d courier the package to the woman and put her on notice. His smile twisted as another thought occurred.
Even better.
He’d lay a false trail and send the cops on a fruitless chase. Let them think they had their man.
