Worst of all was what he had glimpsedbefore he turned away and continued his walk, his unhurried stride turning intomore of a rush. If he had thought to dress for sports, he might have turned itinto a job. Something that no one would remark on. But if you were dressed innormal clothing, dark clothing, and you broke into a run, that was somethingthat people remembered. That they could be called upon for witness statementsof earlier. And it was a shame, because what he needed most of all now was torun.
Because what he had seen were car keys,and a car parked at the back of the store waiting for them. The coworker wasgiving her a ride home.
He gritted his teeth, his mind racing.How would he get there before them now? He wouldn’t; he couldn’t. Only if hehad a vehicle of his own, and that had not been in his plan for today. His planhad been simply to use the power of his feet, to get into a place where hecould wait for her, to be ready.
Not to try and outpace a car.
But this was the city, and even if thetraffic was lighter at this time of the evening, there were still blockages intheir way. Red lights and stop signs and, maybe if he was lucky, a spot oflingering congestion. Earlier he had hoped for the roads to be empty. Now heprayed that they were full.
He walked as quickly as he could bearwithout arousing suspicion, taking on the guise of a man with a place to be,wanting to get home or meet a date or something of that ilk. He was still onthe same route, still rushing ahead, when the car passed him. He saw herclearly as the car paused at an intersection. Her head in silhouette,recognizable to him as his own mother’s. He had been studying her closelyenough, these past days.
She was past him, and then gone furtherup the street, and now he was the one who was behind and rushing to catch up.
He ground his teeth in frustration,feeling the pull and pop of the muscles in his jaw, the irritation. Now it wasall up in the air. He would have to take a bigger risk, move without the safetyof a plan. Of course, there was always a backup plan. But it was nothing to thereal plan.
Still, what could he do? He had set outto do this tonight, and he couldn’t bear to wait any longer. It had to be donetonight. He could not manage another day of watching her from afar, wishing shewas already dead. The way she deserved to be.
He clenched his fists, feeling thesqueak and squeeze of his leather gloves, the way the material moved around hishands. So be it. He was up for a challenge, wasn’t he? Never let it be saidthat a change of plans put him off from carrying out his most righteous work.
He rushed all the way to her home,feeling the heat of his body rise against the cool night air, his breath comingquicker with the exertion. It was only when he was in sight of it that heallowed himself to slow down. The car was parked on the side of the street nextto her door, her coworker inside it, just starting the engine. The interiorlight lit his face just for a moment until it blinked out and he pulled away,gathering speed.
The front door was already closed. Shehad not stayed to wave him off. Perhaps she watched from a window; he watchedclosely, examining the curtains for a sign of someone behind them. Nothing.
She had inherited this little one-storyhome, a throwback to a time before the city needed the space for development sobadly. It was crumbling and old, things failing to work. Things that she couldnot repair on her salary. He briefly wondered if someone else might feel sorryfor her, an orphan at a young age. But she deserved no pity. Not with the evilshe could wreak on the world.
He couldn’t wait any longer. Not evenfor caution. She needed to be wiped out, and now, before it was too late.
He approached the house on stealthyfeet, rubber soles chosen carefully for their absorption and lightness. Noteven a crunch of loose stones as he crossed the sidewalk. Was she watching himnow? He hoped not. Even if she was, what could she do about it?
He had seen her house when she was out,walked all around it, examined it. Jumped a fence to get to the back, where whathad once been a spacious yard generations ago was now another home, where thespace allocated to hers only allowed entrance to the back door and nothingelse. But the house had a back door, and that was the point. The most importantpoint.
He circled around behind it, listeningso closely he heard his own heartbeat above all else, drumming in his ears tokeep him moving at a fast pace. He climbed the fence one more time, carefullythis time, hooking his shoe against a knot in the wood to give him grip so thathe would make no noise. Nothing that could alert her to his presence before hewas ready.
As he suspected, she did not come outhere often. And why? There was nothing here to enjoy. The back door wasunlocked, just as he had left it when he broke in a couple of days ago. Sheimagined it locked because that was how she had left it. She had no idea thathe had been inside, learning the layout, looking through her things. Seeing thesmiling photographs that made him so angry he almost smashed them there andthen.
His discretion, and the ability to holdhis rage back, had paid off. He would unleash it in full now.
He carefully and slowly eased the dooropen, inch by careful inch. When he came by last time it had squeaked, so hehad bought oil and poured it on the hinges in preparation. Now, there was nosound. Only the gentle click of the handle turning, the latch disengaging, andthen the same again as he stepped inside and eased it
