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“Yeah,” she agreed. “God, I’m getting sick of saying that.”
“Yeah, me too.”
They lapsed once more into silence. Faith picked at her food and thought of the nickname the press had given their killer.
The Subway Vampire. Like he was some kind of movie character. It was disgusting. It took people hours to realize McIlhenny was dead, and now, they were glorifying his killer. Maybe he was a jerk, but he didn’t deserve to be nothing more than a footnote in an article celebrating a psychopath.
“I’ll follow up with some of his other coworkers,” Michael said. “Maybe one of them has an idea who might have a grievance to McIlhenny bad enough to want him dead.”
“You do that,” Faith said, standing from the table. “I’m going to shower.”
In her younger days, she would have been able to convince herself to be optimistic about Michael’s chances of finding something, but it had been a long time since she felt optimistic about anything.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
He figured it out now. He knew his mistake. He had pushed the bounds of indifference too far. He’d forgotten that people enjoyed spectacle, that spectacle was the only thing that could crack the veneer of indifference that society had.
He shouldn’t have dressed his victims up as caricatures. He had gotten lucky with the first one. People were on the lookout for weirdly dressed individuals who weren’t moving now. They wanted to see their spectacle.
He would be more careful next time. He would keep the victim in the clothes they wore, adding only a pair of sunglasses or a hat to keep their eyes hidden. After all, people were inclined to notice something out of the ordinary. It was the ordinary they ignored, the normal people who they didn’t care about.
Like this man in front of him. He brushed past a young lady without so much as a glance her way, not even when she cried out in frustration as her purse went sailing through the air at the impact.
The young lady wasn’t particularly attractive. Her clothes weren’t particularly expensive. She wore no jewelry. There was nothing about her that would attract anyone’s attention. Nothing except the fact that she was human, a living, breathing creature with rights and dignity who should be granted the respect due everyone.
Of course, without at least the vague promise of sex or money or prestige, no one received respect. That was the problem.
He followed the man, pushing his cart and looking around, seemingly absently. Really, he was trying to see if he would be noticed. The terminal was crowded, but people weren’t looking his way. Janitors in public places were part of the furniture. He could probably shout, “Hey guys! I’m going to kill someone!” and no one would glance his way.
Still, he had made his mistake already. It would be foolish of him to make another one.
He would have to act fast. There was a bench up ahead, not too far from them. He had the phenol in his cart. He kept it there while he worked since each janitor had their own cart, and he could hide it among all the cleaning chemicals. He could catch up to him, jab him quickly in the neck, and help him sit before anyone saw him. If anyone did see him, he would simply be apologizing for accidentally bumping into a passenger. It would be challenging to plant sunglasses on him, but that could be done without if needed. He could position him with his head slumped forward as though he were taking a nap.
He increased his pace just slightly. Just enough to catch up to his victim right as they reached the bench. One quick jab, then he could slowly lower him to the bench.
He reached into his cart for the needle, his heartbeat quickening.
“Help!” a voice cried.
He froze and turned toward the sound to see a large man running from a big dog, a German shepherd. The dog wore a vest with a gold K9 emblazoned on it. Both were quickly followed by an attractive, physically fit woman in her early thirties wearing a bulletproof vest emblazoned with FBI on the back.
He recognized her from yesterday, one of the FBI agents who was investigating the murders. She glanced his way as she ran past but didn’t show any sign of suspicion or even acknowledgement.
Well, why would she acknowledge him? He was just a janitor after all. Just another piece of the furniture.
He looked back at his would-be victim. He stood right in front of the bench. With everyone’s attention focused on the FBI agent and her dog, he could easily kill the man and stage him before anyone even looked his way.
He wouldn’t, though. There was no point. If no one noticed his victim because there was a spectacle distracting them, then that wouldn’t prove anything. The point was to show everyone how little attention they paid to others, not to just get away with killing. He would wait until the right time, a time when people should notice a dead body but wouldn’t because, unless it directly involved them, it wasn’t worth their time.
He was a teacher, after all, not a psychopath.
He watched with the crowd until the man and the woman and dog chasing him disappeared from view. Then he resumed pushing his cart. He passed his would-be victim on the bench and smiled at him, nodding politely.
The man didn’t even notice he was there.
“Just another piece of furniture,” he muttered to himself as he faced forward and continued to push his cart.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
