Peterson coasted his car along, not too fast, not too slow, feeling good as he finally had the girl back in his sights. Finally, he had found her. There she was, Riley's daughter, alone, walking toward her high school, with no clue at all that he was stalking her. That he was about to end her life.
As he watched, she suddenly stopped in her tracks and turned around, as if suspicious she were being watched. She stood there, as if undecided. A few other students passed her and filtered into the building.
He coasted the car along, waiting to see what she would do next.
Not that the girl mattered to him especially. Her mother was the true target of his revenge. Her mother had thwarted him badly, and she had to pay. She already had, in a way—after all, he'd driven Marie Sayles to suicide. But now he had to take from her the girl who mattered to her most.
The girl, to his delight, began to turn around and walk away from school. Apparently she had decided not to go to class today. His heart pounded—he wanted to pounce. But he could not. Not yet. He had to tell himself to be patient. Other people were still in sight.
Peterson drove ahead and circled a block, forcing himself to be patient. He suppressed a smile at the joy to come. With what he had in mind for her daughter, Riley would suffer in ways she didn't think possible. Although she was still gangly and awkward, the girl looked a lot like her mother. That would make it extra satisfying.
As he circled around, he saw that the girl was walking briskly along the street. He pulled over to the curb and watched her for a few minutes, until he realized that she was taking a road that led out of town. If she was going to walk home alone, then this might be the perfect moment to take control of her.
His heart pounding, wanting to savor the delightful anticipation, Peterson circled another block with his car.
People needed to learn to put off certain pleasures, Peterson knew, to wait until just the right time. Delayed gratification made everything more pleasurable. He had learned that from years of delicious, lingering cruelty.
There's just so much to look forward to, he thought contentedly.
When he came back around and saw her again, Peterson laughed aloud. She was hitchhiking! God was smiling down upon him on this day. Taking her life was clearly meant to be.
He pulled the car up beside her and gave her his most pleasant smile.
"Give you a lift?"
The girl smiled back broadly. "Thanks. That would be great."
"Where are you headed?" he asked.
"I live just a little way out of town."
The girl told him the address.
He said, "I'm going right past there. Hop in."
The girl got into the front seat. With increasing satisfaction, he observed that she even had her mother's hazel eyes.
Peterson pressed the buttons to lock the doors and windows. Over the quiet rumble of the air conditioner, the girl didn't even notice.
*
April felt a pleasant rush of adrenaline as she fastened the safety harness. She'd never hitchhiked before. Her mother would have a fit if she found out.
Of course, it served Mom right, April figured. It was really rotten to make her stay at Dad's last night—and all because of some crazy idea of hers that Peterson had been in their home. It wasn't true, and April knew it. The two agents who had driven her to Dad's house had said so. From what they'd said to each other, it sounded kind of like the whole agency thought Mom was a bit bonkers.
The man said, "So what brings you into Fredericksburg?"
April turned and looked at him. He was an agreeable-looking, big-jawed guy with shaggy hair and a stubble of beard. He was smiling.
"School," April said.
"A summer class?" the man asked.
"Yeah," April said. She certainly wasn't going to tell him that she'd decided to skip the class. Not that he looked like the kind of guy who wouldn't understand. He seemed pretty cool. Maybe he'd even get a kick out of helping her defy parental authority. Still, it was best not to take any chances.
The man's smile turned a bit mischievous.
"So what does your mother think about hitchhiking?" he asked.
April flushed with embarrassment.
"Oh, she's fine with it," she said.
The man chuckled. It wasn't a very pleasant sound. And something occurred to April. He'd asked what her mother thought, not what her parents thought. What made him say it that way?
The traffic was fairly heavy this close to the school at this time of morning. It was going to take a while to get home. April hoped that the man wasn't going to make a whole lot of conversation. That could get really awkward.
But after a couple of blocks of silence, April felt even more uncomfortable. The man had stopped smiling, and his expression seemed rather grim to her. She noticed that all the doors were locked. She surreptitiously fingered the button of the passenger-side window. It didn't budge.
The car came to a stop behind a line of cars waiting for a light to change. The man clicked on the left turn signal. April was seized by a sudden burst of anxiety.
"Um … we have to go straight here," she said.
The man said nothing. Had he simply not heard her? Somehow, she couldn't get up the nerve to say it again. Besides, maybe he planned to go by a different route. But no, she couldn't think of how he could drive her home from that direction.
April wondered what to do. Should she scream for help? Would anybody hear her? And what if the man hadn't heard what she said? Didn't mean any harm after all? The whole thing would be horribly embarrassing.
Then she saw someone familiar slouching along the sidewalk, his backpack slung over his shoulder. It was Brian, her sort-of-boyfriend these days. She rapped sharply on the window.
She gasped with relief when Brian looked around and saw her.
"Do you want a ride?" she mouthed to Brian.
Brian grinned and nodded.
"Oh, that's my boyfriend," April said. "Could we stop and pick him up, please? He's on his way to my house anyway."
It was a lie. April really had no idea where Brian was headed. The man scowled and grunted. He wasn't at all happy with this. Was he going to stop? April's heart beat wildly.
Brian was talking on his cell phone as he stood on the sidewalk and waited. But he was looking straight at the car and April was sure that he could see the driver pretty clearly. She was glad to have a potential witness just in case the man had something ugly in mind.
The man studied Brian, and he clearly saw him talking on his cell, and saw him looking back right at him.
Without saying a word, the man unlocked the doors. April signaled for Brian to get in the back seat, so he opened the door and jumped in. He shut the door just as the light changed and the line of cars started to move again.
"Thanks for the ride, mister," Brian said brightly.
The man didn't say anything at all. He kept on scowling.
"He's taking us to my house, Brian," April said.
"Awesome," Brian replied.
April felt safe now. If the man really had bad intentions, he surely wasn't going to snatch both her and Brian. He'd surely drive them straight to Mom's house.
Thinking ahead, April wondered whether she should tell her mother about the man and her suspicions about him. But no, that would mean admitting to skipping her class and hitchhiking. Mom would ground her for good.
Besides, she thought, the driver couldn't be Peterson.
Peterson was a psychotic killer, not a regular man driving a car.
And Peterson, after all, was dead.
