CHAPTER FIVE
The figure sat at his kitchen table, watching the news.
They were already reporting on the death of a man in the community center, but so far, the name had not been released, and neither had any other details other than that he was dead.
There was some speculation that it was a gangland killing, which meant that some information had been leaked to the news station that shouldn’t yet be public knowledge.
He knew that was to be expected with the man’s past, but he also knew the death wasn’t a gangland hit.
He turned down the TV volume and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose, becoming almost meditative. He could see it all again as clearly as if he were back there.
The shine of the wood on the floor, the darkness through the windows high on the walls, and the smell of wood mixed with antiperspirant. It had been a nasty smell at the time, but as he reminisced in the memory, he enjoyed it. The smell was now linked with the kill—his very first kill.
He expected it to be harder than it was, for there to be a hump for him to get over before he could do it.
Everything had been planned, and he had waited multiple nights for a chance to be alone with Thomas, and when it finally came, and he stepped into the gym with the man who might have frightened him if he didn't have a gun, he found the climax to be frightfully easy.
The man smiled as he sat in the chair at his kitchen table with his eyes gently closed. That was not to say that he didn't enjoy it or that he found any disappointment in the act. It was one of the most exhilarating things he had ever done.
When he had pointed the gun at Thomas and ordered him to his knees, he was prepared to face some resistance and perhaps have to use the gun instead of the knife, but Thomas had done exactly as ordered. Perhaps Thomas’s time in prison had trained him to do as he was told.
Then, when he drew the knife from his belt and stepped forward, he had moved like water, flowing without hesitation until the blade was buried deep in Thomas’s neck. It slid in like a knife stabbed into a potato to check if it was cooked.
The man had gasped in delight at how easy it slid in—a small amount of resistance as skin and muscle were pierced and the blade driven in, and Thomas was reduced to nothing more than the animal he was.
There was a moment, right before Thomas slipped forward and collapsed face-first to the floor, when he wanted to withdraw the knife and stab his body again and again, but as soon as Thomas toppled, the spell was broken.
I did it. I stepped up and did what needed to be done. None of us knows what we can do until we try, and now, I know that I can kill with ease.
It had been the last part of the puzzle. When he had entered the community center, there was a part of him that doubted he could kill another human being. That was not in doubt anymore.
The man opened his eyes again. He took another deep breath to cleanse himself. Killing Thomas Warren had given him some power; he hadn’t drained any of Thomas’s power, but unlocked what was always inside.
Now, it was time to move on.
The man got up from the kitchen table, glancing at the TV to see that they were still talking about the death, but no more details were shown on the screen.
It would take some time before they reported what had really happened, but he knew those investigating it would have figured out at least some of it by now.
He switched on the kettle, waited for it to boil, and then poured the hot water over the leaves in the teapot.
He took the pot and a cup back to the kitchen table and placed them off to the side.
He scanned the stacks of psychology books on the outer edge of the table, selecting one, and opening it to the page he had previously marked.
It was not only about removing those who posed a danger to society, but also about getting the message across so someone would finally listen.
He had tried numerous other things over the years, but the more notoriety Alison Payne gained, the harder it was to knock her down from her ivory tower.
It wasn’t enough to disagree with her; he had to show where she had gone wrong, and that meant being educated about it.
He had some knowledge, but there was so much more to learn, and things always changed as the years ticked by. He stuck his nose deep into the book as he absorbed the information. Sometime later, after losing track of the hours, he poured some tea and sipped it as he studied.
The man let out a loud breath, startling himself.
He finally looked away from the book and up at the clock to see that it was well past midnight.
He felt like an endurance athlete, losing track of time, but instead of physical exertion, he had mental strain.
He moved his head from side to side to stretch his neck after being hunched over the book.
He had to be at work in the morning. Not early, but still early enough.
His body wanted to go to bed and rest, but there were other things to do first. He picked up the teapot and tipped it toward the cup to find that he had drunk it all.
The man shook his head. It didn't matter—he would go without.
He stood up and turned off the TV, which was now showing a late-night infomercial. He left the kitchen and went to his study. It was time to compose his second rebuttal.
He sat down at the desk, turned on the old computer, and waited for it to start up.
Then, he opened the same writing program he had used on the last one.
He put on his glasses and pulled out the file from the plastic tray to the left of the screen.
He had corrected the report over the past couple of days, and he finally had all the information he needed to write his own.
He read the name across the top of the report that he had tried to fix with his red pen: Dr. Alison Payne.
He shook his head. The man could see what she had tried to do in the report, but it was flawed in so many ways.
She didn't deserve to be lauded for what she had written; she should face derision. Perhaps they were already taking notice of the first report he had written, but he wouldn’t stop until Dr. Payne had been stricken off for the part she had played in everything.
The man felt a warmth inside as he typed.
He knew his mission was flawed in some ways, and many wouldn’t understand what he was trying to do, but it had to be done.
It was not only about protecting the world from Dr. Payne, but creating a complete overhaul of the system as a whole.
There was far more harm than good that came from early release and parole, and all the other ways society tried to help criminals, instead of putting them where they belong.
He stopped briefly, taking a second to breathe and remind himself that he had to write from the head and not from the heart.
He looked to his left at the pictures on the wall. Thomas Warren looked back at him. A large red ‘X’ crossed the photo. Soon, all the photos would bear the same mark, a recognizable letter from the English alphabet that took on far more meaning because of what it denoted.
The man gently pried the next photo from the wall, leaving the tape behind.
He looked the woman in the eyes. Perhaps it would be different this time.
He had worried he would not be able to do it when it came to his first kill, but what about a woman?
Being a learned man, he knew there should be no difference when it came to killing a man or a woman, but something told him there would be.
"It will soon be time," he told her. "As soon as your report is ready, you will become a part of the message."
***
Jennifer Hayes was irritated. She had anger coursing through her veins as she sat at her office desk, finishing her work.
Jennifer was annoyed that she had not gotten through all her work, and she knew that as soon as she finished what needed to be done for the day, there would be another mountain of work. It was never-ending.
The work was a curse and a blessing.
Jennifer knew that if she didn't focus on the work, her mind would turn to other things, less desirable ideas.
Or, more desirable ideas, depending on how one looked at it.
She knew, at least, that if she kept her mind busy with work that actually made a difference, not only to other people, but to her by doing the work, then she would stay in a better place. It was frustrating at times, but it was far better than the alternative.
So, she sat back for a moment and sighed to let out some of the emotion bubbling and festering within her, and then got back to work.
She found it ironic at times that she worked as an accountant on the side. She hadn’t gotten work in that field because of her past, with no companies willing to trust her after she had been jailed for embezzlement, but a friend of a friend had taken a chance on her.
It would be so easy for her to move some money around or fudge some numbers, but she wasn’t that person anymore, and the longer she went without messing up, the more she could convince herself. That was what mattered most.
She didn't find any relief in being trusted by the charity, the board that had given her an early release, or even the friends and family who had stuck by her when she was released from prison. She could only have true forgiveness from within, and that would come when she proved to herself that she wasn’t the same person anymore.
So, she remained in the office, working on the charitable accounts, knowing she could withdraw a modest sum with a couple of keystrokes and hide it well enough to never be caught.
Not doing that was worth far more to her and her personal growth, so she resisted doing it, just as she had resisted every day since being released.