Chapter 24
Alex needed to play it safe, and it was time to reinvent himself.
His appearance had to change. He was sure that by then, the Camry had been confiscated and searched by the police, and using the VIN, they would find out it came from City Rentals.
The company would have a copy of Alex’s fake ID and show it to the cops when they came calling—and Alex was sure they already had.
He decided to shave his head and grow a mustache and beard again.
Luckily, the photo on his fake ID showed him with blond hair and blue eyes—thanks to colored contacts.
He wore glasses in the photo as well. None of that was how he really looked.
The real Alex had curly black hair, brown eyes, a goatee and mustache, and no glasses.
Hopefully, nobody he ever came across would recognize him from that fake driver’s license photo.
Keeping a low profile as he had been doing was helpful too.
Alex thought about Torrie and the area where she lived—a lower- to middle-class working man’s neighborhood.
It was a world away from the classy eastside lifestyle he lived.
But then, he would lay low until the contract was complete then possibly move to Chicago when his lease was up.
After enjoying some time there, he would try to score another contract.
But at the moment, he needed to focus on Torrie and be ready to put his plan into motion Friday or Saturday night.
Maybe I should find out what bars she frequents and pick her up there.
Stay in her neck of the woods where nobody recognizes me, even though my look will dramatically change.
I’ll drug her, we’ll go back to her place, and I’ll kill her in her own bathtub.
By daybreak, she’ll be in the cooler, and I’ll be heading north to Manitowoc on my morning fishing trip.
I’ll leave the cooler in the back of the Jeep and stick everything else in my duffel bag so it’s ready when I need it.
Alex did a Google Street View search of Torrie’s home and neighborhood.
His plan needed to be foolproof before he implemented it.
Torrie lived in a small house on a street of small homes.
None could be more than twelve hundred square feet.
A detached one-car garage sat ten feet to the side of the home.
He zoomed in on the front fa?ade of the house and didn’t see a single camera mounted anywhere. He chuckled at the irony.
Those hookers think their high-risk job makes them tough. They’re brave and in control, and they don’t need cameras. You’re all idiots! In five seconds, I can snuff out any one of you with my bare hands. Control is the last thing you have in your bag of tricks.
With a quick call to his client, he confirmed that the job needed to be done on either Friday or Saturday evening in Torrie’s neighborhood.
He wondered what bars she frequented. He was given the names of two neighborhood dive bars that Torrie spent time at—Ed’s Corner Tap and All Hours Tavern, another corner bar.
He planned to watch her movements tomorrow and follow her after her workday was complete.
If he saw an opportunity, he would take it.
Otherwise, Saturday would have to work. Either way, Torrie would be toast by the end of the weekend.
After that, the final kill would take place, the best one yet according to his client. Alex was getting excited.
But, for now, it was time to change his look. In the bathroom, Alex plugged the sink, got out his electric razor, and began. The blond hair would be gone in minutes.