Chapter 5 Time to Take a Walk
Time to Take a Walk
PREACHER
SASKATOON, SASKATCHEWAN
The music in this place is horse shit.
Pounding bass. Repetitive, mindless lyrics. And yet, people are eating it up, flailing and grinding against each other on the dance floor. The last thing I want to be is stuffed into this sticky booth that smells like cheap vodka and grapefruit juice, but I’m working tonight.
My brother managed to track down the target to a shitty, overpriced nightclub in Saskatoon, and I drum my fingers on the table as I scan the bar, checking my phone one last time to make sure I have the right picture seared into my brain.
The shit stain is so ugly his mom probably had to tie a pork chop around his neck to get the dog to play with him.
And to add the name Chad on top of that?
That’s gotta be some kind of lawsuit waiting to happen.
I’ve seen a lot of shady shit in this bar over the course of the evening: guys who wouldn't take no for an answer, trying to convince girls they always need just one more drink, and the guys who are looking for prey… just like me.
I’ve been watching him for a while now as he lingers at the bar, shooting his shot with any woman who even breathes in his direction. I just wanted to make damn sure I had the right person. Being a predator is all about reading human behavior, and you learn how to spot your own.
Christ, he looks like one of those dickless wonders who can’t get a girl, so he spends all of his free time online complaining.
He’s dressed in a tight polo shirt that shows off a body he spent years carving out in the gym, but not for any sense of self-improvement.
More likely just because he got bullied for that fuckass haircut. It’s even worse in person.
He’s on his third strike, still trying to talk to a woman who’s not at all interested in him. He keeps inserting himself between her and her friend, no matter how many times she turns her body away. Finally, he grasps her shoulder, but she fully rejects him, shoving his hand away.
It’s at that moment that I see his mask slip, his mouth twitching, his fists clenched, and he takes a deep breath as she continues chatting with her girlfriend, completely oblivious to Chad’s internal temper tantrum. Me though? I can hear him screaming inside.
Her drink sits behind her on the bar, and he glances around to make sure nobody’s watching before making his move. I look down, making sure he can’t tell I’m watching, but keeping him in my periphery as he pulls something out of his pocket.
I grab the needle I’ve been concealing in my coat, slipping out of the booth and striding toward him.
It’s filled with Midazolam, and a subcutaneous injection will work within a few seconds.
To him, it’ll feel like a night of alcohol hit him all at once, and to the rest of the club it’ll look like I’m just walking a friend out of here.
Looks like we both came prepared.
Just as he reaches for one of the drinks, a couple of big cowboys approach the girls… and he has to back off.
Chad looks pissed, and it’s hard not to laugh.
The cowboys motion to the dance floor and the girls follow without even the slightest resistance, taking their drinks with them and leaving Chad in the dust. He looks pathetic, swiping a hand through his hair as he abandons his drink and heads for the back of the bar.
Straight for the bathroom.
“Perfect.”
I’d prefer not to make a scene in public, because it turns everything into a big event and that makes me memorable. When it comes to my occupation, that ain’t something I wanna be.
I slip through the crowd of sweaty college students and head down a long, narrow hallway to the bathrooms. It’s dark and surprisingly empty. Usually in a situation like this, there’s some drunk I have to dodge.
I wait at the door for a count of ten before slipping in to find my target taking a piss, whistling to himself as he sways from side to side.
Most of these guys need to get plastered before they indulge in their darkness.
People always think Bundy was clean-cut and put together when he hunted, but the truth?
That guy was a raging alcoholic narcissist, and booze was the only way he could kill what was left of his conscience.
Being born too late to get a shot at Bundy was one of my great regrets. I’d love to have that fucker hanging from a hook in my barn, squealing like a newborn pig.
I reach behind me and flip the lock. I’ve got to get Chad out of here and into my truck out back without drawing too much attention to myself.
Raph already cased the place, and I’ve memorized where the security cameras are located.
All I’ve gotta do is keep my hat pulled down and stay out of their line of sight.
I pop the cap off the needle, ready to move in, but the clatter of plastic on the floor makes Chad turn his head.
I lunge for him before the gears in his brain manage a single rotation, covering his mouth with one hand and holding the needle to his neck with the other.
It’s a little more careless than I like to operate, but it’ll have to do.
“Scream, and you’re dead. Nod your head if you understand me.”
I can feel his heavy, inebriated breathing quicken as he nods, only a confused groan escaping his lips. He reeks of liquor and piss. I’m pretty sure I can hear it spattering on the ground as we speak.
Nice touch.
“That’s right, there’s nowhere to run, princess, now take those drugs out of your pocket.”
His muscles stiffen and I chuckle.
“Thought you were real smooth, didn’t you? I’m actually shocked you haven’t been caught before now.”
With a shaking hand, he reaches into his pants and pulls out a little eyedropper.
“GHB?”
He nods.
“Good boy,” I chuckle. “Now, I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth, and you’re gonna swallow all of that. If you make a sound, you’ll be dead before you hit the floor.”
I graze his skin with the needle, a little reminder of my imminent threat, and he lets out a whimper as he trembles in my arms. He’s terrified, so much so that I can hear his stomach gurgling as the sweat pours down his face.
God, this shit makes me feel giddy. I’d like to play with him some more, but we don't have time.
“Wh– why are you d– doing this?”
“It’s simple, Chad, I don’t like men who hurt women.”
“How do you— I don’t—”
“You and I both know what you are,” I snarl. “Two counts of rape, domestic violence charges—”
“That wasn’t me!”
I squeeze his throat, feeling his blood pumping beneath my grip. I can’t tell you the amount of freaks who have told me their criminal records never belonged to them.
You’ve got the wrong guy, I swear!
It’s not my fault!
I’ve heard it all.
“Take it or I’ll fucking kill you.”
“There are people outside—”
“You’re right, but we both know not a single one of them gives a shit about you.”
His hand shakes like a leaf as he brings the eye dropper to his lips, hesitating just before the plunge.
“Be a good boy, Chad.”
I glide the needle up and down his neck, relishing the sense of control.
Someone could rattle that door handle any minute, and my prey could call out to them, ruin this entire thing, but somehow I’m completely calm.
Focused. I’ve made mistakes in the past, letting prey slip through my fingers in a moment of pique.
I always caught them in the end, but not without serious risk.
Chad breathes deeply, looking at me with pleading eyes a final time before giving in and draining every drop. It won’t be long now.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now we’re just gonna sit in here like friends for a little bit. Let’s call it bonding.”
It takes around ten minutes for GHB to fully kick in, but he took a much bigger dose than normal, so my guess is we’ll need about half of that.
I lean up against the wall and check my phone, keeping one eye on my prey as I do.
RAPH
Got him?
I chuckle.
Chad’s leaning over the sink, sticking his mouth under the tap in a desperate attempt to… I don’t know, flush the drugs out of his system?
Not gonna happen.
ME
Yep. Just waiting now.
RAPH
Let me know when I need to come by.
ME
Always do.
It doesn’t take long for Chad to start getting woozy. He stumbles, trying to grab the wall for stability, but he nearly slips and hits his head right on the damn urinal.
“Alright,” I grunt, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “Time to take a walk.”
This part’s always a pain in the ass. If I had my way, I’d sit out in my truck with a tranquilizer gun and shoot them while they walked up to the front door. It’d be so much easier than this whole dog and pony show, but we have a procedure for a reason, I suppose.
I stick my head into the hallway, making sure the coast is clear before I walk Chad to the back exit, pulling my hat down over my face just before we pass under the final camera.
Outside, the summer heat wastes no time assaulting me, and I do my best to ignore the moisture that’s already gathering on my forehead as I toss Chad into the passenger seat.
The first thing I do after slamming the door is turn on the police band radio. Mostly, I listen to make sure I’m not driving into any traffic stops, but sometimes it can get a little more serious.
“We’re going to need units on standby for a tornado warning near Fox Valley, all the way up to Babylon.”
“Shit.”