Chapter 8
Eight
Walmart Supercenter
Almost time.
Martin’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He had planned for so long. Waited and waited. Finally the time had come.
Nothing could stop him from succeeding with this mission.
At first the most difficult part of this challenge had been how to avoid the surveillance cameras.
Every Walmart was outfitted with equipment for continuous monitoring of both the interior and exterior of the building, including the parking lot.
The idea made a person wonder about the clientele of a business that found such all-encompassing surveillance necessary.
But Martin knew it wasn’t entirely Walmart’s fault—or the everyday ordinary shopper’s, for that matter.
Unfortunately, as Walmart should have learned, there were ways to get around even the tightest security.
It was such a shame there weren’t more heroes like Special Agent Ryan McBride around to protect the innocent.
Rage lashed through Martin at the idea that those FBI fools had set McBride aside as if he were unimportant.
They had used him for their own purposes, then tossed him away as if he no longer mattered. Martin knew this for a fact. He and Deirdre, his beloved wife, had watched McBride’s career from the first time they had seen him on the news.
“Idiots,” he grumbled. Most of those FBI fools were nothing more than rats trapped in their humdrum offices, running around in circles and bumping into dead ends at every turn. None of them were as good as McBride. All put together they could not hope to fill his shoes.
Solving crime was Martin’s passion. He and Deirdre watched all the good crime and investigation programs on television.
Not the make-believe ones like Law & Order or CSI.
The docudramas that exposed the true story behind real-life events.
They followed cases in the news religiously until their resolution.
Nothing was more frustrating than having a case go unresolved, like the one involving young Natalee Holloway from right here in Alabama who had been abducted on her high school class trip to Aruba. McBride should have been on her case.
Foolish, foolish FBI.
Martin would show them. Walmart’s cameras wouldn’t stop him.
He was well out of range and his plan was foolproof.
Utterly and completely foolproof. He had studied the behavior of one employee in particular for a very long time.
Some part of him had always known that his connection to her would play some pivotal role one day.
Now, that day had come. A few minutes from now, the next stage of his strategy would be set in motion.
She would have been first, but then he had read in the newspaper about the sealing of tombs at the cemetery.
The concept hadn’t been part of his original strategy, but his dear, sweet wife, his beloved Deirdre, had found it inspiring and urged him to use the opportunity. He could never let her down.
Whatever she wanted, she would have.
But now he was back on schedule with the oblivious Mrs. Katherine Jones.
Five nights per week Katherine left her second-shift job at Walmart and drove home to her empty house. Her husband had been killed in an automobile accident two years ago, and she had chosen not to remarry. Martin understood that kind of loss. There was no way to replace a lost loved one.
There was only vengeance, atonement, and mercy. Before he was finished, those FBI rats would know all three intimately.
For Katherine Jones, life had been so sad for so long that she wondered at times why she bothered.
Approaching fifty now with no children and no prospect of romance, she had decided that nothing would change this monotony of sadness.
She had said so in the journal she kept on her bedside table.
She had also written about her one mistake .
. . that long-ago blip in time for which she had never forgiven herself.
She remembered that evening, not as vividly as he, of course, but she had not forgotten.
She would never forget.
Katherine Jones needn’t worry that her life was over. Her time had finally come. Tonight was her night. Her life was about to change, to become a part of something much bigger. This was her chance to redeem herself, to make up for that one momentary lapse that had cost so very much.
Martin smiled as he watched her exit the grocery side of the store’s front entrance.
She chatted with two of her coworkers as she crossed the parking lot to her twenty-year-old Buick.
The four-door sedan wasn’t much to look at, but it was paid for and it allowed Katherine to support herself with reasonable comfort on her paltry salary.
Katherine said goodbye to her friends and scooted behind the wheel of her car.
She drove to the nearest exit and merged out onto Hackworth Road.
At that same time, across the street, Martin pulled away from the parking lot of a gas station.
He adjusted his speed, switched lanes so that he was right behind Katherine’s Buick, and settled in for the drive.
It wasn’t far. Only a few miles and that one weekly stop.
That was what made Thursday nights special.
Each and every Thursday night, Katherine stopped at the minimarket on her way home.
One would think that was an odd thing to do since she had only just left the Walmart where she worked and prices were certainly lower.
But Katherine had her reasons. She didn’t want her coworkers to know about the wine she purchased each Thursday night.
Friday and Sunday were her days off. Sundays she had church, but on Fridays she slept in.
A whole bottle of wine made sure her Thursday nights were restful ones.
She didn’t dream about the husband she had lost or the lack of opportunity in her life.
Or about that one mistake that would haunt her until the day she died.
She stopped at the minimarket and Martin drove on past, went directly to her small ranch style home and parked across the street, keeping a careful distance from the one working streetlight on the block.
A few minutes later Katherine arrived and parked in her garage. Moments later the lights came on in the living room.
Her bottle of wine, he knew from watching her before, would be cloaked in a nice brown bag so no one could see it.
She was so very careful. It was a shame she didn’t take such pains in her home security.
No dead bolts, no alarm system. Nothing at all to deter the unexpected.
Which told him more than anything else that she thought she had become invisible, that the world had forgotten her.
Or perhaps she wanted to be forgotten, so she, in turn, could forget.
In a couple of hours, she would be sound asleep and a new, exciting episode in her life would begin.
Katherine Jones would be terrified. He regretted that part but it was necessary. The fear would wash away her one sin. But she had no cause for alarm. Special Agent Ryan McBride never failed. He was a true hero. He would save her.
Martin knew the truth about what happened three years ago. He would make them all see how wrong they had been, and they would finally understand the gravity of their mistake. The rats.
McBride would take his rightful place once more, and Martin’s beloved Deirdre would be so proud. She had been devastated by the way the FBI had treated McBride. Martin would make this right . . . and she would finally be happy once more.
One day when he and his hero had the opportunity to meet, perhaps McBride would thank Martin. Pride welled in his chest. Yes, that would please him very much.
Martin lived for that day.
Soon. Very soon.