They were in total isolation, right where they needed to be. Nobody would disturb them out here, which was all he could have asked for. By now, the police would be breathing down his neck with a citywide search, and the killer wondered if that would still be the case if he wasn’t who he was. Normal missing people didn’t get such treatment. It was a weird sort of honor.
The night had come now, cloaking the RV in darkness between the trees. The wooded area was in complete silence, save for the distant rummage of animals in the brush. The killer stood enjoying the fresh, moist night air and was surprised to find himself shivering despite the multiple layers he had on. At least it proved he was still human.
By the time he was done enjoying the peace of the still night, the killer produced a bottle of water from the front of the vehicle. He unscrewed the cap and pressed the bottle to his lips, letting a sufficient amount fall down his throat. When he was satisfied, he replaced the lid and went to the back of the RV, checking his surroundings before opening the door.
Inside, an exhausted, terrified black woman was sitting with her knees to her chest. It was hard work discerning the outlines of her creased-up body, but the knowledge she was there helped guide his eyes in the dark. The killer tossed her a bottle of water. It panged as it hit the wall, then rolled to her side.
“Drink,” he said.
“Go to hell.”
“Drink, or I’ll end you right now.”
“Go ahead and do it,” Diane said aggressively, calling his bluff.
The killer smiled. He couldn’t help it. It made total sense to him that the wife of ex-cop and intervening private investigator Mason Black had some spunk. The question was, what would he do with her now? “Nah. You’re worth much more to me alive,” he told her.
“You’re disgusting.”
“Says the dirty tramp locked in an RV. If you’re not going to drink that, roll it back my way. No point letting it go to waste.”
Diane looked up from her knees, slowly twisting her head to face him. He couldn’t make out the look on her face, but the tone in her voice said it all as she hurled the bottle at him. “Take your damn water and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.”
There was nothing to do but shake his head. As much as the killer wanted to hurt her for her absence of gratitude, he had other plans. Like it or not, this piece of work was needed as a pawn in a larger game. Sadly, that meant she had to stay alive just a little bit longer. The only satisfaction was in knowing she would soon outlive her usefulness.
But not before Mason got what was coming to him.