Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHASE
Noah spends two days planning Stephan Sharpe’s elimination. The contents of the folder spread across the desk, everything from surveillance photos, daily routines, security details and family information. Dima gave him a thorough run down.
I lean over the desk and study the materials with passive interest, my therapist brain analyzing patterns and vulnerabilities.
"He walks to work every morning," I observe. "Same route, same time. That's an optimum time to attack."
"Attack?”
“You know what I mean. Don’t make fun of me.”
“I don’t make fun, don’t know how,” he says, which is true.
“It’s too public," Noah says.
"What about his evening routine?"
Noah pulls out another photo of Stephan leaving a restaurant, alone. "He has dinner with clients twice a week at the same place. Always leaves around nine, I think we have a creature of habit," Noah mumbles to himself.
We continue like this for hours, analyzing every aspect of Stephan’s life, looking for the perfect opportunity. It's fascinating, in a disturbing way where I use my clinical skills to plan a murder, applying my understanding of human behavior to identify weaknesses. Another huge step from humanity.
"Here," I say finally, pointing to a note about Stephan’s weekend routine. "He goes to the gym every Saturday morning, at opening time before it gets crowded. That's when you should act."
Noah studies the information, then nods slowly. "The locker room should be private and quiet at that time. I can make it look like a heart attack or a slip in the shower."
"Exactly."
He looks at me, his expression unreadable. "You're good at this."
"Shocking, huh?"
He pulls me into his lap, his hands settling on my ass. "You're becoming what I am."
"No, I just complement you. Nobody can become like you, Noah. You’re unique with no cure."