The Whisper
ROSWELL MILLS
My parking spot outside the Timberbeast Tavern was in the shadows, away from the pools of illumination cast by the streetlights, but where I still had a good view of the entrance.
Indecision gnawed at me. To go in or not to go in. That was my burning question.
She was in there. My Melanie.
And she wasn’t alone.
I’d seen her with him more than once. Since I’d decided to start tracking her, learning her routine, it had quickly become clear that the small-town mechanic had wormed his way into her life.
She was even staying with him, basically living at his place.
My lip curled in a sneer. It was an unintended consequence of my activities. Fear permeated the town, and it seemed to have driven her closer to him. I didn’t like it, but it was something I’d have to deal with later—eliminate her feelings for him .
I glanced at the copy of the Tilikum Tribune sitting on the passenger seat. Quaint little newspaper. And I’d made the cover.
Strikes Again
I was front-page news. My sneer melted into a smile. That was also an unintended consequence. When I’d taken Melanie the first time, if it had made the news, I hadn’t seen it. I’d been too scared, fleeing like a child to my mother’s place in Tennessee. Like a scared little boy.
The sneer was back. I hated who I’d been back then. Truthfully, a part of me hated who I was now even more. But I shoved that part down into the depths of my consciousness where I couldn’t hear its protests. Couldn’t hear its pleas for someone to stop me before it was too late.
It was already too late. I’d come too far to back out now.
Especially after the last one.
Killing her had been a necessity. She’d woken up before I was ready, and she’d seen my face. My rehearsals had been enough of a risk. I couldn’t let one go who could identify me. My plans would fall apart, and I’d never have the opportunity to take the one I really wanted.
The one I’d been waiting for.
I wouldn’t take another. It was Melanie’s turn. I was ready.
All that was left was deciding when and where. That wouldn’t be easy because the idiot she was with never left her alone. It meant I wouldn’t be able to plan the exact moment I took her. I’d have to be flexible. Stay close, and wait for a window of opportunity to arise, however small.
My practice runs had helped. I’d gotten faster. In less than a minute, she’d be mine.
And I was a patient man. Despite the way I ached for her, I could wait.
She was going to be worth it.
My eyes strayed from the door to the headline on the newspaper again. . I both loved and hated that they were calling me that. I loved that I’d made them afraid—that they’d taken notice of me. But whisper? I knew what I was, knew that no one saw me. That in the eyes of the world, I was nothing.
But she’d see. Soon, I’d no longer be a whisper. I was going to be a shout.