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Tears streamed down her face, and her hands were bound in front of her.
She was plain thing, up close. An ugly duckling.
She also had a limp.
Yes... yes, he would take care of her soon enough.
"Calm down," he said firmly, staring into the mirror. "Your misery will be over soon."
Wide eyes stared at him from the back seat, terror filling her gaze. She protested through her gag with faint, mewling sounds.
The man chuckled, relishing the fear in her eyes. He reached into the glove compartment once again, this time pulling out a small, sharp knife. He twirled it in his hand, admiring the glint of moonlight off the blade.
"Don't worry, little lamb," he cooed, turning to face her fully.
Ms. Carter's eyes widened in horror as he leaned over the backseat and pressed the blade against her cheek. A thin line of blood appeared, but the man paid it no mind. He was too focused on the thrill of the moment, the rush of power he felt as he dominated his prey.
The darkness of the night seemed to envelop the police car like a shroud, enhancing the eerie atmosphere that had settled around the man. His breath fogged up the windshield, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. The dim glow of the dashboard cast sinister shadows across his face, emphasizing his sunken eyes and hollow cheeks.
"Damn you, Caldwell," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity. "You were supposed to help me, not betray me."
The thought of Caldwell being his counselor – someone who was meant to heal him – only intensified his hatred. It was a bitter irony that the person he had once trusted implicitly now stood in the way of his mission.
Suddenly, the scanner sparked to life again on the desolate road. "Ranger Blackwood calling for backup at mile marker 34. I've got a flat tire and need assistance," the scanner crackled to life, jolting the man out of his thoughts.
"Backup... Ranger Blackwood needs backup," he repeated, his voice thick with anticipation. He couldn't believe his luck; it was as if fate had handed him the perfect opportunity on a silver platter. The corners of his mouth turned up in a sinister smile as his mind raced, already plotting out his next move.
"Roger that, Ranger Blackwood," he responded through clenched teeth, feigning concern. "I'm close by. Hang tight. Help is on the way."
The woman in the backseat let out a faint whimper, but it was lost to the rush of air as he rolled down his windows and picked up the speed.
The night air gusted in through the open window of the police car, chilling the man's skin as he tore down the unlit road. His knuckles turned white with the grip he had on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched tightly. He glanced at the gun resting on the passenger seat, a sinister grin forming on his face.
"Can't forget you," he murmured to himself, reaching for the weapon. The cold metal felt heavy in his hand as he took a moment to check the chamber – fully loaded, just the way he wanted it. Satisfied, he returned the gun to its place and shifted his focus back to the task at hand.
His foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, the engine roaring in response as the speedometer needle climbed higher. The thrill of the chase electrified him, each passing mile marker bringing him closer to his prey.
The night seemed to close in around the speeding police car, trees and shrubs mere blurs in the darkness. The car's tires screeched on the slick asphalt, only just maintaining their grip as the vehicle tore around each bend.
Ahead, he spotted a black marring of the sky. Storm clouds rolling across the night.
The storms out here could come quick, blown by the wind over flat terrain.
A downpour pattered the ground, staining dusty road black ahead of him.
The sound of the rain joined the symphony of sobbing from the backseat.
He felt a cold thrill.
The storm's wrath seemed to intensify as the man's police car veered around a bend, its headlights carving through the darkness. Suddenly, he entered the storm. The rain pelted the windshield, and the wind howled like a beast ravenous for prey. As he approached his destination, the sight of Ranger Blackwood's car on the side of the road emerged from the shadows, a vulnerable beacon in the night.
Right there, at the mile-marker, sleek and isolated, like a doe that had wandered from the herd.
"Finally," he muttered under his breath. His heart pounded in anticipation, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he slowed down the patrol car, carefully parking it behind her vehicle. He glanced at the rearview mirror, ensuring no one else was approaching, and stealthily reached for his gun.
He stepped out into the fierce storm, the cold rain instantly drenching him. With his gun hidden behind his back, he began to approach her car, every step heavy. The wind howled in protest, but it did nothing to deter him.
As he closed in on her vehicle, he noticed that the driver's door was open, exposing the dark interior. His pulse quickened, and a thrill of excitement surged through him.
