The first killing was the hardest. When the idea had begun to awaken in his mind, unfurling like petals from a daisy, he had wondered if he would be able to initiate his plan. He personally had nothing against sex workers. They performed a valuable function for the townspeople of Jericho, or at least those who were inclined to use their services. He’d never picked up a girl himself. He’d had no need or desire to go near the underpass near Silent Brook, but when he saw the three girls shivering one December night, an idea had come to him as to how he could finally get things going. He’d had to reconnoitre the place first. Driving past at different times of the day had given him a feel of the quiet times. He’d been surprised that mornings, although less busy than the nights, were still marked by a steady stream of girls getting into cars.
Night time had held the appeal. He was still nervous back then and in the January winter, darkness had descended by five p.m. He’d wanted to pounce soon after. The regulars didn’t come on until after seven and traffic had been busy, meaning his car was likely to go unnoticed. However, it had been the location that was key, and the mall didn’t shut until eight p.m. So he waited, spinning endless trips around the highway until, just after midnight, he had spotted a lone worker. She’d walked towards him, young and confident, and had slid into the front seat once she’d negotiated her fee.
‘I know a car park. It’s a few miles away, but we’ll have privacy there.’
‘Sure.’ Stella King had shrugged.
She hadn’t even bothered to hide her real name. Another myth smashed, although he suspected she was too young to have formed a fresh identity for herself. She’d fiddled with the radio in his car, finding a station which pumped out tunes he couldn’t identify.
Deciding how to kill the girl had taken him almost as long as finding the right victim. He’d been squeamish and had dreaded having to use the knife he carried. He’d parked up in the lot, away from the lamps which shone neon onto the asphalt. Of all the locations, this was the one which he was most proud of. The one he’d had a hand in creating. She’d no sense of danger as he leaned across her. Only as his hands had gone to her neck had she opened her eyes, in those final moments realising that Jericho wasn’t to be the new life she’d prayed for. God knows why she’d chosen this town. Stella King didn’t belong here but not for the reason that had killed her.
His presence that night had gone undetected, which showed his plans were sound. How much effort had gone into finding Stella’s killer had been difficult to gauge. He’d made a few discreet inquiries and discovered detectives were looking for an out of towner. Idiots. He’d finally allowed himself to relax and consider number two.