CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

He’d been able to move all the bodies out of the house and dump them in the waters below the bridge. Now, he was sitting in an empty, run-down home with nothing to play with. He was getting bored, and he was pissed off.

His sister had always helped him when he needed it. Not willingly, of course, but she always gave in. He tried calling her a few hours ago, and the phone number was no longer in service. When he attempted to call her home, it was disconnected. Even Andrew’s business line refused to answer his calls.

“I don’t like to be ignored,” he whispered to himself, walking into the kitchen.

After moving the bodies, he’d gone on a cleaning spree and bleached every surface, fearful that something might be left behind. He’d put on some makeup, a wig, and ball cap and went grocery shopping. Until he could get enough money to leave the country, he was stuck.

He did trade out his license plates for an old, abandoned car, swapping out the date of expiration to alleviate any suspicion. The last young woman, Alecia was her name, had offered herself up to him as payment if he would let her go. Interesting, she believed he couldn’t take it if he wanted it.

“Please,” she begged, “please, I’ll do anything for you, anything to you. Please just let me go.”

“You don’t get it, do you? What you do disgusts me. If I wanted sex with you, I’d take it. Forcefully. I’d make sure your body regretted being near me.”

She cried after that until he decided it was time to let her know that her days on earth were done.

Over the years, he’d perfected his techniques. At first, he just shot them. But that left little time to enjoy his work. So, he began using a knife. With the front of being an ordained minister, he thought the touch of stabbing where the wounds of Christ were was clever. It almost offended him that people didn’t figure it out right away.

But even the knives were boring after a while. So, he started to experiment with other things. Branding, beatings, torture, anything that caught his mind. It was incredible the ideas that would come to him by watching television. Movies, documentaries, and the news! Oh, the news was a plethora of ideas for him.

Now, though, he was alone, and he didn’t like it. Even if they were crying and screaming, at least he wasn’t alone.

Making himself a sandwich, he grabbed the potato chips and took a seat with a diet soda. The home had belonged to one of the victims now swimming in the Mississippi River. An older woman who wanted to talk about God and what heaven would be like when she arrived. He gave her a front-row seat.

He turned on the television and was surprised to see his face on the screen.

“Well, I’ve made it to the big time,” he smiled. “That’s right, I am armed and dangerous.”

He started laughing and couldn’t stop himself. It was comical that they thought he would be so easily caught. Understanding now why his sister wasn’t answering his calls, he realized that she had fed them a great deal of information about him.

“Lessons learned,” he muttered. “I need more male friends in the future.”

When he finished his sandwich, he flipped the channels of the television set and landed on a horror film. He was taking notes of what the killer was doing, admiring his ability to evade authorities.

“A boat is always a good idea,” he smiled. “I could sail right out into the Gulf. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll get the money I need, steal the boat, and sail down to Mexico for a little adjustment to my face. Although I do like this one.”

Angry at himself for talking to himself, he stood and put the food away and then looked around the house. There was enough room here for three or four victims at one time. He could wipe out a huge amount of evil all at once. With tomorrow being New Year’s Eve, he could start the new year on a high note.

“Time to hunt.”