There was nothing more satisfying than seeing him die.
The killer had watched with great interest after pushing the private eye off the cliff. It had felt so good to have his own hands end the life of the man who had been so damn determined to make him suffer.
Now who’s suffering? he thought with snarky joy.
He turned around on the spot, staring down at a weeping version of the woman he had brought out here. If he were to be completely honest with himself, he found no joy in doing anything to her now. The only rewarding thing about such an act was that it would hurt Mason on an emotional level. Torture him, really. But now that he was dead, was there really any point in continuing? He supposed not, but in the very least, she could die like his own sister had.
The killer stomped forward and grabbed her by the hair. She kicked and screamed like the broken woman she was as he dragged her toward the RV. On the slim chance Mason had informed the police of tonight’s events, the killer had to cut some corners to escape. He began by shoving Diane into the front seat, slamming the door, and walking around to the other side.
That was when he heard the lock.
The dome light shone down on Diane, her smug, tearstained face oozing with pride as she sat back from the door she had just locked. She scurried back, shaking as she smiled. It was an interesting combination, but the killer had no time for this shit.
He tapped on the window with the gun.
“Don’t make me use this,” he said. “Come on, open up.”
Diane hesitated, biting her nails as they rattled between her teeth. She seemed to only be contemplating her options until he pointed the gun right at her to remind her who was in charge. She then quickly unlocked the door and slid back over the seats.
The killer climbed in, soaked through from the rain. He rested the gun on his lap and fed the key into the ignition, enjoying his refuge from the storm. “If you cause me any more problems like that, I’ll only have to kill you quicker.”
Diane sniveled. “You killed him,” she mumbled. “You killed my husband.”
Smiling, the killer turned the RV in the dirt with a great struggle, found the road, then traveled down it slowly and carefully. There was no need to rush now—even if the police were on their way, they’d be coming from a different direction. It was doubtful they’d catch up to him, especially because they would stop when they saw Mason’s car sitting at the crime scene. It was almost a shame they wouldn’t get to see that bastard’s body.
“Where are we going?” Diane asked.
“Somewhere special.”
“Where?”
The killer didn’t answer. He simply looked ahead at the road, biting his lip as he thought he heard… no. Could it really be? It sounded like a car’s engine, roaring like a bull as it drew closer and closer to him. The killer slowed down ever so slightly, quieting his own engine so he could get a chance to hear what else was on the road.
Then it hit them. The air escaped his lungs as something sped into the side of the RV. There was a forceful crash, the glass shattering around him as his body was slung around in the front seat. Beside him, Diane held herself upright by clutching the dash, but even she was flailing like a rag doll. The rear end of the RV was the last part to swing, bringing them to an abrupt stop. He wheezed, shaking off his burning headache as he checked his mirrors. Beside the vehicle was a smaller car—a little silver thing with a Ford badge decorating the hood. He had seen that car before somewhere.
It took him only seconds to remember where.