Abraham sighed as he weighed his options. “I guess there’s no time like the present.”
He sat in the borrowed car across the street from Brandon’s home and pondered how to take the man’s life. The kill kit was hidden away in his motel room. The plan that day had been to follow Brandon to see where he went, not to kill him.
But now it’s a different story. I need to do it while his mind is on his car and his guard is down. Now is the best time, but how? Will he recognize me if I knock on his front door?
An idea that could work popped into Abraham’s head. He would knock, apologize for causing the accident, and offer Brandon money for the damaged car.
He’ll wonder how I knew where he lived, though. I could say I saw his license plate and called the DMV. He doesn’t look overly smart, and that cash offer is the only thing his mind will be on. Yeah, that’ll work.
Because half the houses on that street looked abandoned and the others were likely crash pads for drug addicts, he wasn’t concerned about being seen.
Abraham stepped out of the SUV, crossed the street, and walked up to the door. The door’s surface was coated in grime, and he was sure the knob was full of infectious bacteria.
I guess gloves come in handy for more than just hiding fingerprints.
After sucking in a deep breath, Abraham knocked then waited. He reminded himself to keep his hands behind his back once Brandon opened the door.
Seconds later, the door swung open. Brandon stared, then it was like a light bulb went on.
“Hey, you’re that jerk who crashed into my car.”
“Sorry, and it wasn’t deliberate since now my car is shot too. I might add it was in much better condition than yours to begin with.”
“If you’re going to stand there and insult me, I’ll just call the cops. I’m pretty sure they’re looking for you.”
“Sure. Then I guess I’ll leave. I was going to apologize and try to make it up to you with cash. That’s why I stopped by.” Abraham turned to leave.
“Wait, what? You mentioned cash?”
“I did.”
Brandon craned his neck out the door and looked left to right then welcomed Abraham in. “Let’s talk about that money. Have a seat wherever you can find a clean spot.”
Abraham looked around. The house stank. Days-old pizza boxes lay on the counter, and trash overflowed the garbage can. That was just the kitchen. He wanted to do the deed and get the hell out where he could suck in clean air.
“How about there on the couch?”
“Yeah, sure.” Brandon tossed some girly magazines and a box of tissues onto the coffee table.
Those few seconds were all Abraham needed. He kicked Brandon’s knees out and sent him face-first to the floor. He straddled the man’s back, pulled his head up, then smashed it into the floor over and over again. Abraham flipped Brandon over and delivered the final blow to his face with a powerful strike of his size thirteen shoe. Bones and teeth crunched. Brandon was unidentifiable and definitely dead. After snapping three pictures, Abraham sat on the couch, grabbed a handful of tissue, and removed his shoe. He wiped the blood from the bottom of it, pocketed the tissue, and for safety’s sake, carried the shoe to the Tahoe before putting it on and driving away.
He sent his client an encrypted text telling him to go to Abraham’s dark web account to view the latest photos.
One kill left—the best one yet. I’m sure a homicide detective will give me a run for my money. The police already have the sedan and likely a copy of my fake driver’s license by now. It’s going to be a war of wits and strength, but in the end, it’s the detective who will be begging for his life.
Abraham returned to his motel room to change his appearance and plan his most challenging kill yet. After that, he would follow the detective home.