Chapter 18

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

Christian Dekker watched the girl he’d handcuffed to a stake he’d pounded into the floor of the dilapidated cabin—and frowned.

It was even easier to grab her than he’d envisioned. Almost anticlimactic.

When he’d followed the shrink, only to find her dropping the brat off at an overnight camp, he’d been delighted. While there were lots of kids and counselors around, they were hardly former military, like the owners of The Refuge. He knew it would be easy to get the girl.

And he’d been right.

He stayed hidden in the forest for days, right under everyone’s noses. He was good at blending in, having been hunting since he was a boy. And when the girl fell behind the other kids during a hike, Christian had simply stepped out of hiding, grabbed her with a hand over her mouth, and dragged her back into the trees.

Her eyes had been huge in her face and she was so shocked, she’d barely struggled. He’d held out a bottle of orange juice and vodka—which he’d drugged—and ordered her to drink. When she didn’t want to, all it had taken was a threat to kill all her little friends at the camp.

She’d docilely done his bidding.

The power he’d felt in that moment had been overwhelming. This was what he’d craved his entire life. People doing what he wanted, when he wanted.

She became groggy immediately, and he’d had to throw her over his shoulder when she couldn’t walk anymore. He’d been out of breath by the time he’d arrived at his car, hidden along a dirt road nearby. He’d have to adjust that technique in the future. But otherwise, the kidnapping had gone flawlessly.

He’d driven the unconscious girl to this cabin before anyone even realized she was gone. His cell phone had let out an obnoxious clanging noise about an hour after he’d arrived, with an Amber Alert for the girl now lying on the floor in front of him.

Christian had laughed. Hard.

But the longer he sat there, waiting for her to wake up, the more bored he became. The girl was still completely out of it. No matter what he did to rouse her, nothing worked. He’d dumped water on her face. Nothing. He’d used his knife to cut the bottom of her foot, where he knew she’d be extra sensitive. Nothing.

He’d fucked up and used too much of the Rohypnol. He hadn’t been sure of the right amount without knowing her weight, and he’d obviously put too much into the drink. From what he’d read, the alcohol would make her more compliant and the drugs more effective, but apparently he’d miscalculated. Another thing he’d have to fine-tune later. He’d wanted to quickly subdue her and ensure she didn’t fight. His plan would’ve gone to shit if she’d screamed and alerted everyone to what was happening.

Now time was ticking, and he wanted to get on with his fun.

But torturing an unconscious victim wasn’t fun at all. He wanted to hear her scream. Wanted to mess with her head by slowly cutting her clothes off, telling her he wasn’t going to kill her, then make her cry with every stick of his knife or hit from one of the many blunt objects he had all lined up and ready to go.

He hated waiting. Especially when he was so close to his first real kill. He’d dreamed about this day for so long and it was finally here. Except the stupid bitch was still asleep!

Sighing, Christian paced.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

He checked the girl…still no response to him jabbing her with his knife.

More pacing.

The more time that went by, the more irritated he got. He should’ve given her just a little of the drink to start, gauged her reaction. Instead, he’d insisted she chug the entire bottle. Next time, he’d know better. He’d improve with each kill, of course. But that didn’t help him right now.

Sighing, he stood above the girl and stared down in frustration.

His stomach growled.

Putting a hand on his belly, Christian scowled. He was starving. And he planned on being very busy for the next eight hours or so…at least once the girl finally woke up. He didn’t want to be distracted by hunger pains while he was busy torturing her.

He looked at his watch. Five-thirty. He could run into town, grab a hamburger and fries, then come back and get to work. Even if the girl woke up while he was gone, it wasn’t as if she could go anywhere. Not while cuffed to the floor. It would probably scare her even more to wake up alone, having no idea where she was or what was happening.

Christian grinned. Yeah, he’d go and grab some dinner then come back. Maybe he’d tease her by letting her eat too. Make her lower her defenses. It would make the moment she realized he wasn’t going to let her go all the more sweet.

He could almost taste her fear. Her terror. Fuck, he couldn’t wait!

His decision made, Christian squatted next to the girl and patted her cheek none too gently. “Be good, you hear?” he said, laughing at himself. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back. Then we’ll really have some fun.”

His stomach growled once more, and Christian stood. He headed for the back door and his car, which he’d hidden behind the building. He’d assuage his hunger, then come back and get to work.

Today was the first day of the rest of his life. Soon, everyone would know his name. No one would underestimate him ever again. He’d go down in history as the most notorious and successful serial killer of all time. He had no intention of being caught until he’d killed hundreds, maybe even a thousand people. Blood would run like rivers, and he’d bathe in it gleefully.

With a huge smile on his face, Christian started his car and headed for Los Alamos.