By midnight Monday night, the killer had gotten medical treatment and left the state. Pulling it off had been a bit of a challenge, but he’d done it. Now he had to make sure he finished getting rid of all the incriminating evidence. That meant his truck had to disappear—permanently. He’d worked with some people a few years back who had been less than honest, and they’d taught him a few tricks of the trade. One of those tricks was how to get rid of a vehicle, no questions asked.
The antibiotic shot was kicking in, and the pain in his arm wasn’t quite as bad as it had been. He’d grabbed some high-test painkillers at the clinic where he’d been treated, but he was managing to hold off on using them by taking the maximum dose of some over-the-counter medications. When he stopped for the night, he would consider taking the more powerful drugs, but he probably wouldn’t take the risk. He needed his mind to be as clear as possible for the next few days.
As he drove through the night, he kept thinking about Chase Hudson and how the damn bastard had managed to screw up everything. He’d had a good thing going until Chase had slipped out of the noose he’d hung for him. Out of the generosity in his heart, he had planned on letting Annie and Beth live just so Chase would never know when the hammer would drop. It would have been one of the best tortures he could devise, a cat toying with a mouse that wouldn’t die.
However, now that Chase had messed up his plans, he had to rethink that idea. He’d take a few days to let his wounds heal, then he’d go home. After that, all bets were off. Satisfied with his agenda, he smiled.