Killing his mother changed Victor’s plans yet again. Without the concern of her discovering Stanley was missing, it was no longer necessary to flee the area immediately. There was still the court date for the knockout game at Konkoly Games but that was months off. A lot could happen before then. He might be around and he might not.
He covered the septic tank area with mulch and flowers he was able to scrape together from other parts of the yard. He cleaned up the blood on the kitchen floor and straightened the house up. With Stanley’s truck in the windowless garage, he was going to try to give the impression Stanley was gone on a trip.
Victor loaded the money and the stolen pistol into his mother’s car. He wrote a hasty note and tacked it to Stanley’s door, hoping it would buy him some time.
Cousin passed away. May visit a while. Back soon.
He hoped the note would make people hesitant to call Stanley on his cell phone.
Victor drove cautiously back to his own home. It reminded him that his car was still parked in the shopping center parking lot. It might give him another option for escape if things got hairy.
When he reached his house, he parked the car around back. His mother didn’t get much company but if she did he was going to make up a story about her being gone too. He went inside and found the house to be much like he left it.
His first order of business was to get to his basement lair and make sure his computers and gaming systems were safe. They were. Despite what his mother and Stanley had said, his computers were just as he left them, except powered off. He didn’t think his mother had the inclination to actually unplug, move, and hide all of his equipment. She was a frail, old smoker and there was no way she was dragging all that crap up the steps.
He went back upstairs and checked the freezer. He found a stack of the frozen pizzas he loved. God, had he missed those. He started the oven preheating and headed to the bathroom. Though he wasn’t obsessed with personal cleanliness, he’d been through a lot these last couple of days. Besides jail, he’d killed two people, been sheared like a sheep, dug up a septic tank, and sank two dead people in its fragrant depths. If ever there was anyone who needed a hot shower, it was Victor.
He removed his clothes. Despite his attachment to them, he put everything in a garbage bag for disposal. While he’d acknowledged he would be the prime suspect if the police ever came knocking, there was no sense making their job easy. He needed to get rid of the evidence. Besides, he had more clothes in his closet exactly like those.
He climbed in the hot shower and it felt different without the thick beard and long hair. He adopted the attitude that this was the new him. This was the streamlined warrior. The DeathMerchant.
The old long-haired Victor was a coward. Stanley had called him a pussy and he was probably right. Stanley was dead now because the DeathMerchant wasn’t as much of a pussy as Stanley thought. It brought a smile to Victor’s face thinking about it. There was some point in their combat where Stanley realized he was losing. He was getting his ass kicked by the young man he’d pushed too far.
Victor was no longer that young man who cowed at his mother’s voice and didn’t challenge her. He’d never stood up to her until today. When it mattered, when it really, really mattered, he’d done it. He’d stood up to her and let her know he was tired of her shit, tired of being made to feel like his very life was nothing but a disappointment and a burden to her.
This new Victor would be a different man. He would fill the DeathMerchant’s ass-kicking boots, just as he did in the games. He would walk taller and stomp boldly upon the Earth. He would do what he wanted and not give a fuck about consequences. He would not take shit from anyone.
He dried off and wiped the steam from a mirror framed in pink-painted wicker. His new face stared back at him through the clouds of mist. It looked unburdened. It looked unmerciful.
In the kitchen, he slid his pizza in the oven and then went downstairs to power up his computer. He opened his favorite social media site. Knowing CamaroChick19 would be out of touch did not prevent him from stalking her profile. He found new pictures and examined them with interest. He realized he missed her.
While the pictures of the lumberyard had helped him narrow down her current location to Boone, North Carolina, that did not help him narrow down her exact location. It may be a small town, but there were still a lot of people there. It would be impossible to find her without more information. The pictures he was looking at right now provided that information.
She’d started working at a bike shop. If he went there and spent enough time, he’d eventually see her walk in there to work. He could go inside and talk to her, and they could take the next step in their relationship.
This raised another question. If she was there in North Carolina right now posting to social media, why had she acted like she was not available to talk to him? She was lying to him. Through his correspondence with CamaroChick19, she’d given him the impression she would be out of touch and unavailable.
She certainly wasn’t out of touch and he couldn’t imagine how she could be unavailable. She was online. She was posting. She was probably communicating with other people. She appeared to be living life and going about her business but it was all without him.
He was so tired of people lying to him and manipulating him. He was tired of being treated like he didn’t matter. This would be something they would have to address.
In person.