mid-range seafood restaurant and watched them go in. By this time there was a stiff silence between them.
Finding a spot in the parking lot, he waited.
They came out sooner than he’d expected. Clearly they hadn’t lingered over a romantic dinner. And from the look on her face, things had not gone well. Once again they didn’t speak as they got back into the SUV.
Driving back to the house, they pulled into the driveway again. They stayed inside the parked vehicle for nearly an hour, but they weren’t necking. They were fighting, arms waving and angry voices audible despite the distance and the SUV’s closed doors.
Eventually, she got out and ran, crying, up to the door. The older woman was waiting and let her in, putting a comforting arm around her. The blond guy gunned the engine, backed out of the driveway, and accelerated away, burning angry rubber on the tarmac.
Tony was debating whether he should move in now, kill both of the women and get the gun, or whether he should wait and take a little more time to get to know his target and her habits. He knew he should err on the side of caution, but Olivia’s hot harmonic presence inside his brain made him impatient.
He was about to get out of the car when the target came out of the house.
Behind her, the older woman was clinging to her arm, begging her not to go, but she pulled away and ran to her Pinto. As she started it up and peeled out, the older woman in the doorway crossed herself.
Curious, Tony followed the target.
* * *
She drove out of town to a large, rustic-looking house in a wooded area and parked crookedly in front, blocking the driveway. The blond guy’s vehicle was in the driveway, as was a low-end silver sedan. She walked to the front door, opened it with a key, and went inside.
Tony waited with his window rolled down, idly swatting at bugs and fiddling with a fast-food napkin. He’d folded it up as small as it would get, and had just tossed it into the cup holder when a gunshot tore through the muggy silence.
He looked up at the house and saw several bright muzzle flashes through the picture window, each one accompanied by a sharp crack .
Seconds later, the target came running out of the front door, tossed something into the bushes on her left, and then got into her car and drove away.
Tony got out of his car and ran to the front door, squatting down and feeling through the thick, glossy bushes until his fingers found what he was looking for.
The gun.
It was a compact semi-automatic pistol, a tiny little thing that fit into the palm of his hand.
That would do nicely.
He couldn’t resist peeking in through the open front door to see what had gone down. The blond guy with the goatee was on the couch with his pants down and a face full of lead. Facedown on the floor about ten feet away was a dead brunette in heels... and nothing else.
Atta girl , Tony thought, smiling to himself.
Guess she wasn’t such a helpless victim after all.
9
JANUARY 1996
The Deerborn Academy was like a ghost town during the winter holiday. The familiar quad was blanketed in nearly virgin snow, marred only by a single lonely trail left by a custodian’s waffle-tread boots. The gargoyles lurking above the entrance to the James T. Fenwick Library wore white caps and icicle beards. The venerable old science building and the more modern, glass-fronted arts center were both dark and silent.
The four dorms were nearly empty. Most of the students and teachers were home with their families, leaving behind a skeleton crew of bachelor staff and a handful of kids with nowhere else to go. Everyone else would start tricking back in the next day, January 6th, for the start of the new semester. But that night, Olivia and Rachel pretty much had the whole campus to themselves.
Which was the way Olivia liked it.
Rachel had been camping out in Olivia’s room while their respective roommates were home for the holidays. They’d celebrated a quiet Christmas together, and now
Finding a spot in the parking lot, he waited.
They came out sooner than he’d expected. Clearly they hadn’t lingered over a romantic dinner. And from the look on her face, things had not gone well. Once again they didn’t speak as they got back into the SUV.
Driving back to the house, they pulled into the driveway again. They stayed inside the parked vehicle for nearly an hour, but they weren’t necking. They were fighting, arms waving and angry voices audible despite the distance and the SUV’s closed doors.
Eventually, she got out and ran, crying, up to the door. The older woman was waiting and let her in, putting a comforting arm around her. The blond guy gunned the engine, backed out of the driveway, and accelerated away, burning angry rubber on the tarmac.
Tony was debating whether he should move in now, kill both of the women and get the gun, or whether he should wait and take a little more time to get to know his target and her habits. He knew he should err on the side of caution, but Olivia’s hot harmonic presence inside his brain made him impatient.
He was about to get out of the car when the target came out of the house.
Behind her, the older woman was clinging to her arm, begging her not to go, but she pulled away and ran to her Pinto. As she started it up and peeled out, the older woman in the doorway crossed herself.
Curious, Tony followed the target.
* * *
She drove out of town to a large, rustic-looking house in a wooded area and parked crookedly in front, blocking the driveway. The blond guy’s vehicle was in the driveway, as was a low-end silver sedan. She walked to the front door, opened it with a key, and went inside.
Tony waited with his window rolled down, idly swatting at bugs and fiddling with a fast-food napkin. He’d folded it up as small as it would get, and had just tossed it into the cup holder when a gunshot tore through the muggy silence.
He looked up at the house and saw several bright muzzle flashes through the picture window, each one accompanied by a sharp crack .
Seconds later, the target came running out of the front door, tossed something into the bushes on her left, and then got into her car and drove away.
Tony got out of his car and ran to the front door, squatting down and feeling through the thick, glossy bushes until his fingers found what he was looking for.
The gun.
It was a compact semi-automatic pistol, a tiny little thing that fit into the palm of his hand.
That would do nicely.
He couldn’t resist peeking in through the open front door to see what had gone down. The blond guy with the goatee was on the couch with his pants down and a face full of lead. Facedown on the floor about ten feet away was a dead brunette in heels... and nothing else.
Atta girl , Tony thought, smiling to himself.
Guess she wasn’t such a helpless victim after all.
9
JANUARY 1996
The Deerborn Academy was like a ghost town during the winter holiday. The familiar quad was blanketed in nearly virgin snow, marred only by a single lonely trail left by a custodian’s waffle-tread boots. The gargoyles lurking above the entrance to the James T. Fenwick Library wore white caps and icicle beards. The venerable old science building and the more modern, glass-fronted arts center were both dark and silent.
The four dorms were nearly empty. Most of the students and teachers were home with their families, leaving behind a skeleton crew of bachelor staff and a handful of kids with nowhere else to go. Everyone else would start tricking back in the next day, January 6th, for the start of the new semester. But that night, Olivia and Rachel pretty much had the whole campus to themselves.
Which was the way Olivia liked it.
Rachel had been camping out in Olivia’s room while their respective roommates were home for the holidays. They’d celebrated a quiet Christmas together, and now
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