"Let me go with you. It's not safe."
"Since when do you care if I'm safe." She stormed off and Aadesh leaped from the sofa to follow her. There is no way he was letting her get home alone at this hour with a potential killer after him.
Chapter Twenty One
MAPLE RIDGE – BRITISH COLUMBIA
"Hey George. Hope your interview went well," Martin said as he dished out some rice for one of the regulars. He'd loaned him one of his own suits... it's not like he needed it at the moment.
"Not so great. I don't think I got it."
"You never know."
"Sometimes, you just know. The manager was a jerk, I could tell. Little jumped up jackass on a power trip."
"If you need any help with interview stuff, I used to be pretty good at them. I know all sorts of tips and tricks."
"Used to be?" He looked unconvinced.
"I'm kind of struggling at the moment. I can feel it turning around though. This place has really helped." He wondered what George thought. If he judged him. He was privileged. He had a lot of things George didn't. He was a lot luckier in life. Some people have real problems, he told himself. Now he had somehow made it all about himself, so he changed the subject.
"Martin." Lisa came up behind him. It was probably because of her that he had come back, and he was glad he had. "Would you mind taking out the trash?"
"Of course." He flashed her a smile and headed to the kitchen. Lisa had obsessive-compulsive disorder, but her therapy was helping. It was her therapist who encouraged her to start volunteering to push herself. Although she was getting her disorder under control, she still couldn't take the garbage out. Her compulsions were all germ related. When she had told him about her mental decline, he understood. The medication had helped her so much that he finally took the step to start antidepressants.
She was still affected though. She had always wanted children, but the reality was too much for her. Once, she and her girlfriend had started looking into adoption, but she would wake up in a cold sweat with nightmares about sticky fingers, snot, and dirty nappies. After that, she had given up on that dream. Martin questioned it. After all, if she could volunteer here, surely, she could deal with a baby.
He hadn't been here long, but someone had already pissed all over the floor, and there were multiple instances of vomit. Still, he didn't push. She explained that if things were to go downhill again, she wouldn't want to inflict that on anyone else. That, he could understand. Responsibility terrified him. He used to have many a responsibility at work, but now, he could barely look after himself. His diet consisted of junk food and hard liquor, and the house was a mess. Before he went to pull the trash bag out of the can, he checked his cell.
Shortstacks: I'm serious guys. We need to stop. I know we don't think he can see what we type in the private group, but I don't know. His post was a clear threat. He means business. I can't be involved in this, and I urge you to do the same if you want to stay safe.
Pickletubs118: But what about his next victim? She's in serious danger.
Shortstacks: We notified the police. We've done our bit. It's their job.
K-meister: I can't stop. I'm doing this for my dad. This POS can't get away with it. I won't let him. The police, they still don't have a clue.
Shortstacks: If you don't want what happened to him, to happen to you, I think it's a really bad idea. He wouldn't want you to put yourself in danger, would he?
Martin wondered what the hell had happened and scrolled up through the chat history. He read the message left by the user not.all.heroes.wear.capes, and although it was an obvious threat, Martin didn't know if he could stop trying to find this guy. This, and the volunteering, were his life now, his reason to get up in the morning.
He had spent some time trying to work out the meaning behind the username. It was a common phrase. The killer had written, 'you deserved it,' on the wall in blood at one of the crime scenes. He absolutely had a vendetta. Maybe he thought of himself as some sort of vigilante, but what did he think these people had done?
Martin couldn't find out much about the victims, and certainly not any reason that they would deserve such a gruesome end. It was a throwaway account, and he couldn't find any other activity for that user.
"Martin. You okay?"
"Sorry. I just got an important message."
"Everything alright?"
"Probably. Don't worry about it. Sorry, I'll take the trash out now."
~~~
He was only two blocks away now and more than ready for a good night's sleep. His eyelids felt heavy, and he needed the smallest amount of energy he had left, to keep his eyes on the road as his vision got hazy. Since he had started volunteering, his sleep had improved tenfold. Maybe it was the physical activity, and getting out the house, or maybe it was the peace of mind from doing some good in the world, if only a small amount. As he pulled up to the turning for his road,
light smoke drifted in the air like a fine mist weaving around tree branches, and there was the distinct smell of burning. The smell took him back to watching fireworks with his parents at English Bay as college kids lit a fire on the beach. The memory made him smile and for the first time since his father died, the memory made him feel glad, rather than
