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“Hey! What’re you—?”
He took the corner a little too fast, and the balding tires of the Chevy slid.
“You’re freaking me out!” she said, her voice tremulous.
Of course he knew that. It was the point. Scaring her a little, watching the play of fear in her eyes, now round, was part of the thrill.
No, she wasn’t Samantha, but that would come. For weeks he’d followed Samantha, kept track of her schedule and knew her routine. Had watched, disguised in a restaurant, when she’d used her cell phone. Memorized the code to get in when her face ID hadn’t worked. She sat talking to different friends and he’d been at a nearby table—an older, bearded man who walked with the aid of a cane, or an elderly woman wearing thick glasses and a shawl, her breasts and teeth and cheek implants all fake. He’d always sat at a dark table, of course, and Samantha Leeds Wheeler aka Dr. Sam had never taken notice. Oh, he couldn’t wait to control her, to wrap his bejeweled noose around her long neck, to make her plead for mercy. What advice would she have then?
None.
He would silence her forever.
No one else would suffer the inadequacies and false diagnoses and ineptitude of Dr. Sam.
He tingled at the thought of her begging.
But for now this waifish, naive whore would have to satisfy. If only partially.
The bridge was up ahead and he was pushing the speed limit as well as his luck. He couldn’t afford a screw-up now. Couldn’t cause any undue attention to himself. Not when he was so close to his ultimate target. He wondered if she—what had she said her name was? Luna? Oh, yeah, right. What a stupid whore-alias. Anyway, he wondered if she would actually jump out of a speeding car as it flew up the ramp and over the thick, black waters of the Mississippi in the wee morning hours. He noticed her contemplating the move, enjoyed her mounting terror, but he’d already jerry-rigged the electronic locks on the doors, securing her in the car. There was a chance she could lunge for the steering wheel, he supposed, but she seemed too freaked out, too frozen for that to happen. And if it did, he’d overpower her. That wouldn’t be a problem. She was a weakling.
Easy prey.
And a temporary release.
But there was still more to come, the ultimate triumph. His heart began pounding at the thought of it, of ending Samantha’s life. His blood tingled with anticipation at the image of watching her fight tooth and nail, then, of course, lose the battle, and as she realized her death was not just imminent but fated, the fear overcoming her. Then, oh, then she would begin to plead, to beg, to bargain with him. Her fingers would twist in the fold of his cassock as she cried and swore that she would do anything—absolutely anything—he wanted if he just spared her and—
“Where are you taking me?” the whore’s voice—Luna’stinny little whine—interrupted his fantasy. He snapped back to the present and caught a glimpse of the speedometer.
What!?!
The needle was hovering near ninety! If he wasn’t careful he’d blow through a speed trap and catch the notice of a roadside cop lying in wait.
No, no, no!
Everything would be ruined!
Starting to sweat, he eased off the gas as they reached the far end of the bridge.
Calm down. Take it slow. Enjoy the moment.
“I asked you where the fuck are you taking me?” the whore demanded in a show of defiance he hadn’t expected. She was facing him, her terror still evident, but some other emotion—anger?—burning in those round eyes.
So she was tougher than he’d thought.
Good.
He liked a little fight in them and up to this point she’d been a nearly petrified, weak little sniveling creature.
But maybe not.
Maybe there was a little grit deep inside that tiny body.
He felt the thrumming deep inside, the anticipation racing through his blood, the thought of what was coming, the beads of the home-made rosary, cut glass strung on piano wire, pressing into the soft flesh of her throat. His cock hardened a bit at the thought of what was to come and the glorifying, spiritual act that was still just a precursor to his final, ultimate sanctification.
That could only come with Samantha.
And it would.
