The Avenger snorted another line of coke and waited as energy pumped through him. He hadn’t slept in three days. He was living proof that sleep was a waste of time. With the proper fuel, he could go on and on. He wasn’t like other mortals.
He pulled the page from the printer and studied the pill bottle label. It looked exactly like the one on the actual prescription bottle. He’d re-created it on the computer, Purdue Pharma logo and all, and put Emily Covington’s name on it. Now he clipped the label out and glued it to the amber bottle full of Oxycontin. As he smoothed out the air bubbles, he laughed at the reaction Emily’s mother would have when she found them.
He drove to the Covingtons’ street, looking for any neighbors out working in their garden, walking the dog — anyone who might see and identify him. He saw no one, and he stopped at the end of the street, in front of a house for sale. Its yard was overgrown, so it was probably vacant. Perfect.
He took his bag, walked back to the Covingtons’ house, and went around to the back door. He knocked, and when no one answered, slipped on his latex gloves and used a credit card to move the lock. He felt it disengage, then he pushed inside.
The Avenger stood in the kitchen, looking around at the granite countertops, shiny stainless-steel refrigerator, posh table and chairs a little too ornate for this size house. The mom was a decorator, and the house showed it. Elegant, his own mother would have called it, while she seethed with hatred for a woman who could pull this off.
A stack of yesterday’s mail lay on the counter, most of it unopened. He unzipped his bag and pulled out the FedEx envelope he’d brought with the bottle inside. It had no fingerprints and no DNA. He’d worn gloves when handling it, and the seal was self-stick. He’d torn it open to make it look like Emily had already opened it. He set it on top of the mail.
But as he backed away, his appetite surged. Could he really leave a bottle of perfectly good Oxy lying there?
He went back to it, opened the bottle, shook out six pills. There were still twenty-four inside, enough to achieve his goal.
The drug called to him. He could easily grind it up and snort it or smoke it, or even shoot it. Maybe he shouldn’t leave the bottle after all.
But then he stopped himself. He had plenty of crack at home, and that was his drug of choice anyway. And this was important. When pretty Emily’s family found what was in that envelope, they would be hurt on so many levels. They’d never trust her again. Even better, if Emily found it herself, she might not be able to resist it. Slam dunk. She wouldn’t be so full of herself then.
No matter who found the pills, he couldn’t lose. If the Covingtons called the police about this break-in, they’d see the pills. Everything would go up in smoke for the smug do-gooder. He was a genius.
He wandered through the house, checking out the living room with its cushy sectional and upscale accessories. If his mother saw a room like this in one of her magazines, she would have torn the picture out and tacked it on the wall to dream about. It would have become another reason to churn with bitterness.
He went down the hall to Emily’s bedroom. A fourposter bed dwarfed the room and crowded the huge dresser. A fancy gold jewelry box sat at the center of the dresser. He opened it and looked for the perfect piece.
There it was. A necklace with the letters EC hanging from a delicate chain. He took the necklace, pocketed it. He could use that later.
He found her makeup in the bathroom across the hall and grabbed a bright-red lipstick. Perfect.
Back in the kitchen, on the wall just inside the door from the garage — the one they probably used the most — the Avenger used the lipstick to write his message on the beige wall. He stood back and grinned.
This was too good not to brag about. He fished his phone out of his pocket, clicked on his camera, and took a picture. That would be worth a laugh later.
He looked around and figured enough damage had been done. Better leave now before the school bus dropped the kid off.
He smiled as he made his way back to his car, wishing he could be a fly on the wall to see what kind of chaos he’d given birth to.