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“Which one?
“From my talk…the smartass.”
He shakes his head. “You’re going to have to be more specific. There were a lot of smartasses. They’re teenagers, George.”
“The one who stood up and said I was a hack.”
“Oh, sure...” His eyes narrow. “I think.”
Now that I can see for sure that he is lying, I glance back at my screen and add the item to my cart. For less than fifty bucks, I am about to become the proud owner of a Mobile-200 GPS tracker. The reviews look great—“A great tracker for cars and assets!”—not that I put too much weight into those.
Nev
ertheless, according to the specs, it should serve the purpose for what I need. It appears easy enough to use and most importantly it touts a long battery life. Two to three weeks between charges. I should be rid of him by then. And I can track him straight from my dreaded phone, receiving real-time alerts if the tracker enters or exits an area, with updates to its location every thirty seconds.
The toughest part will be finding the time to install the damn thing to the underside of his car, but I’m sure I can think of something.
I could kick myself for letting Eve allow him to stay here—for not paying more attention to his comings and goings. I suppose I was too preoccupied with my own.
“Earth to George—hello?” When I look up I can see that he is annoyed. Liam doesn’t like people who start things they don’t finish. “What about him?”
“He’s missing.”
“Oh.” He rubs at his chin as though the truth has just come to him. “Wait—the one you told you might be a serial killer and that he should watch his back? That kid?”
“I didn’t say that last part.”
His eyes don’t blink for forty seconds. At least. “Are you sure? You’d had a lot to drink.”
“I’m sure. I checked the video. See for yourself. It’s all over the internet.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.” I one-click the tracker. “Anyway, the cops came by. They’ll probably want to talk to you, seeing as how you were there with me.”
“No problem.” He sighs. “You’ve got my number.”
Chapter Twenty-One
‘The Book Doctor’
Journal Entry
I wasn’t ready for another, but everything happened so fast. When you love something, you don’t have to have a reason to do that thing. You enjoy it. It becomes second nature. Plain and simple. Like I said before, it’s like cake.
But sometimes, even if you enjoy it, it doesn’t mean it’s always convenient. Most things people love rarely fit neatly in the confines of their lives. More often than not, they have to make them fit.
It’s possible this isn’t making any sense. Stick with me. It’s not easy describing your desires to another. People make a real mess of it. At any rate, I’ll do my best.
Let’s say, other than cake, you really, really like deep dish pizza. Picture it—the kind with the gooey cheese that oozes, stringing out, adorning your fingers as you attempt to shove it in your mouth. The kind with the perfect crust and the sauce that bubbles on top. Now, imagine the best you’ve ever had.
If you really, really like pizza, as I do, it’s obvious that you’d enjoy it from time to time. Same with cake, but it’s more socially acceptable to pig out on pizza. It’s a meal versus a dessert. But everyone knows too much of a good thing quickly becomes a bad thing. Sustenance can be risky if you’re not careful—as evidenced by the extra inches that tend to creep up around your gut after you’ve indulged.
More than likely, it would do you well to go for a salad, but if a pizza is calling your name, and it’s something you love, it’s really difficult to abstain over the long haul. And sometimes you just have to have it, for no other reason than you simply cannot get it out of your mind.
That’s what killing is like. Sometimes I can’t not do it. It’s like a craving— it’s a void that has to be filled. Other times it’s merely the path of least resistance, something that needs to be done in order to take care of business and get on with the rest of my life.
This was one of those times.
