I glance to the left when I reach a stop sign and just see the glow of a garage light hitting the driveway extinguish as the door seals shut. I turn down the street, taking note of the unit number before checking out the rest of the subdivision.
Thirty minutes later, I park the truck on the street near a unit with a for sale sign and set out on foot. The rain seems to be keeping most of the neighborhood in doors, but it’s only a light drizzle, so I hope I don’t look too suspicious walking around. Just in case, I head up the shared driveway of the house for sale and take a look in the sidelight window at the front door. It gives me an idea of the layout of the condo. The outdoor lighting casts enough of a glow through the curtainless windows to make it possible to see inside.
The small room in the front could be a living room or dining room—without furniture it’s hard to tell—but the hardwood flooring suggests the latter. Farther back, I can just see the shine of a stainless-steel stove, confirming my assumption. Good news for me, because less people will probably be eating at this hour, and that means there’s less of a chance of me being noticed, since the living room seems to be at the back of the house.
The stairs straight ahead of the entry most likely lead to bedrooms, but it’s too dark to tell much up there. It would be nice if I could get a look into the back windows, but with the units attached the way they are, it’s not an option right now. I take a quick glance into the small windows near the top of the garage, not seeing much since it’s dark inside, but confirming I’m able to do it before heading slowly down the street.
I just need to verify this is where she lives by checking for her car in the garage, but the desire to do more is there too. I want to know why she’s in my business. My heart is already beating fast when I reach the end of the drive, but it picks up even more as I take the last few remaining steps to the garage. I have to cup my hands around my eyes to make out the white Toyota, but I’m sure it’s the same car.
I need to find out who she’s working for and do it quickly before I have to force the answers from her.
I start to walk away, but my mind goes back to the memento she left on my window. I still have no idea what it means, but I’m compelled to return the favor. Finding a rock is easy, but figuring out where and how to place it is hard.
CHAPTER9
MAXINE
The sound of tires squealing as they make a tight turn into the parking garage threatens to distract me from loading my go bag into the back of the small SUV. In reality, it’s not a go bag, it’s a kill bag, but it’s easier to mischaracterize it.
My jammers are inside, along with an extra gun and clip. It doesn’t make sense to travel with more than that. If I can’t get the job done with two guns, a third isn’t going to help. Plus, the less I have to explain if I get caught, the better.
The sealed, heavy-duty plastic and other cleaning materials are situated with innocuous paint supplies, which I conveniently leave unzipped enough to see if anyone, like a cop, shines a light through the window, in hopes they will ignore the other duffle bag.
A Ford truck creeps past just as I’m closing the rear hatch. The tires squeal as he makes the tight turn to head up a new row. I climb into the SUV, then make sure my Toyota is locked before trading my keys out for the ones in my purse.
I’m not taking any toll roads, but it’s best if the car registered to me isn’t anywhere near Ohio today. Eddy’s number is up, so I need to focus on important shit, not a man who showed me an ounce of kindness, especially when that man might be more dangerous than any other that I’ve dealt with.
I run my hand down the long, fake ponytail hanging out the back of my ball cap after parking a few blocks away from Edward’s house. I’m dressed very similar to how I was last time I was in the area to blend in, but I’ve gone a little further to disguise my features, with glasses and a ball cap. The bum bag over my chest is crammed full of shit that could send me to jail for a very long time if I were caught.
My jammer is already running, and I’m moving fast enough that I hope any dropped calls or other issues are ignored as a fluke. I slip through the same window as last time after making sure Eddy’s BMW isn’t in the drive and head straight to the hidden room within the main bedroom.
It takes me a few hours to scrub the room of the faces of his real victims. There’s a chance some of the girls could be identified by other means, but I do my best to give them the anonymity they deserve. The next step is to place a few older needles with traces of drugs in them in the room. They have never been used to shoot anyone up, and it’s a risk leaving them with no DNA, but hopefully, they won’t do a full forensic evaluation if it looks like an accidental overdose. The pills and bottles remain in my bag until I can put his prints on them a little later.
A few more items get shoved in his nightstand and in his bathroom before I head downstairs, where things will really get started. The open bottle of wine in the fridge gets a nice dose of ketamine, a little something that will make him more agreeable, and then I wait.
I bide my time upstairs in one of the empty bedrooms, reading a book I brought along, because it gets boring as hell waiting around when you can’t even play with your phone. I never bring one with me when I know I’m going to see a job through, not even a burner because it’s a needless risk.
I’m so engrossed in my book, I actually jump when a door downstairs shuts. It’s times like this when I wish I could leave cameras all over the house to see what Edward is up to, but the jammer means I’m shit out of luck.
I stash the book in my duffle bag and run through my plan in my head over and over until I see him die slowly at least a hundred times. It doesn’t give me any satisfaction because I don’t take any joy in killing. The only thing I take solace in is knowing he won’t be able to hurt anyone else once he’s gone. It does help desensitize me though, so I know I’ll be able to do the job when it’s time.
I check my watch, noting a little over twenty minutes has passed. That should be enough time for him to have gotten comfortable and hopefully consumed some of the wine in the fridge. I need to move quickly, though, since the effects of the drug won’t last that long.
The door is soundless when I open it, as are my footsteps as I creep down the hall, hugging the wall. Once I’m on the stairs, my heart rate picks up. There are not many places to hide in a stairwell, which means I have to be ready to act if I get caught.
When I reach the first landing, I crouch, trying to get a better view of the floor below. Edward isn’t anywhere to be seen, so I continue on my hunt for him. The low droning sounds of a television or some other device slowly start to filter in, leading the way.
His bedroom door is open, allowing me to see his back as he faces a computer screen in his little hidey-hole. The sounds become clearer, though the cries are still muffled by something. My throat constricts. Just hearing the sounds are enough to make me want to put a gun to the back of his head and pull the trigger, but I contain my rage. I need to do something before he figures out someone scrubbed some of his shit.
Blocking out the stifled weeping, I focus only on him and the slight movement of his shoulder. It looks like I might be interrupting his routine, which is perfect. He’s going to die with his pathetic dick in his hand.
If coming down the stairs was dangerous, this is even more so. One wrong step, and he’ll look over his shoulder and see me. I lock my gaze on him, watching for the smallest shift as I sneak even closer. It would have been easier to wait until he was asleep, but the drugs would have worn off by then, so I take the risk.
The wine glass near his right hand is empty, leaving only stains of the red liquid inside. His shoulder shifts a little faster, urging me to do the same. I want to kill him before he gets any relief. If I could curse him, it would be so he would live in that state for the rest of his life. Hopefully, the devil takes his due from this man, making him relive the horrors he eagerly gave to so many others.
Needle in hand, I shove the point in behind his ear, pressing my thumb on the plunger as he reaches up to smack at me as if swatting a bee. He turns his head and looks up, his mouth gaping and his eyes cloudy with confusion as he scans my face.
His hand drops down, nearly pulling him out of the chair as his mouth moves silently. He tries to shift, to stand up, but his limbs don’t respond the way he expected, or maybe it’s the fact that his pants are loose around his hips. Either way, he ends up falling flat on his ass.
