Chapter Five Travis
Chapter Five
Travis
Today is the day. After studiously watching every move Kevin has made over the past week, I’m confident I know his schedule almost as well as my own. Well, that might be hyperbole, but I’m feeling particularly jubilant knowing what’s to come tonight.
The high before a kill is almost as intoxicating as the act itself. It’s what I love about this. The planning, the prep work, meticulously making sure every step I take is perfectly executed. The routine of it is titillating.
Even so, my nerves are on edge. I need this. All I can think about is the look that will be on Kevin’s face as my knife slices into his flesh. I can hardly wait another minute. I don’t know how I’m supposed to wait until nightfall.
I guess I could make myself some herbal tea to calm down a little.
I walk into my kitchen and boil some water.
While I wait, I get the cup ready with my favorite overpriced tea.
When the water boils, I pour it into my cup and look at the time above the oven.
It reads 03:15:35, which means the tea will be done at 03:18:35.
I keep my eyes trained on the timer, but my mind keeps going back to killing Kevin. I’m so excited about tonight I can barely contain myself. Too excited, because it’s not long before I realize I’ve zoned out, and now the timer reads 3:18:46, which means it’s steeped eleven seconds too long.
“Unacceptable,” I murmur to myself before pouring the still-steaming cup down the drain. I look as the hot liquid disappears, and somehow I feel like it betrayed me personally.
With a huff, I walk back to my office. Just as I sit down, my phone chimes. If I don’t answer it, nothing will stand in my way of finishing my plan tonight. I don’t want anything stopping me.
It chimes again, the vibration rattling against the reclaimed wood of my desk. For fuck’s sake. What the hell is it now?
I suck my teeth as I grab my phone and look at the text message ringing through. Peter Dawson?
I got an alert for an uptick in your name being searched, the text reads. Attached is a screenshot of the alert, with a timeline of how frequently my name has been searched. Being the public figure I am, there is a reluctant amount of notoriety that comes with the territory.
Even considering that, it doesn’t take long for me to put the pieces together. Juniper Sage Featherstone.
Ever since forcing her way into my life, she’s been interrupting me in ways she can’t even comprehend.
I’m certain it’s her. More of an annoyance than a threat, but I can’t risk something slipping through the cracks.
I pay too close attention to everything I do to let her ruin my plans.
I pick up the phone and press the call button by Peter’s name and wait for him to answer.
“Is this anything I should be concerned about?” I ask, not sparing a moment for useless pleasantries. Peter has been working with me as my PI long enough that he knows what to expect.
“Depends on how nervous you’re feeling,” Peter replies, his North Carolina drawl hanging on each word as it slowly leaves his mouth. I can already feel myself getting impatient. “They’re searching for information about you and an Amelia Banks.”
My blood runs cold at the mention of her name. There’s a long moment of silence between Peter and me as my brain works furiously to figure out what’s going on.
How does Sage know about Amelia? She couldn’t possibly have the resources to find out anything about her.
“Travis?” Peter says on the other end, waiting for my reaction.
“Can you tell where the search is coming from?” I purposely keep my voice as level as I can, but my fist is balled tight at my side, fingernails digging into my palm.
“Lake Lure,” Peter promptly answers.
How can this be? I’m so meticulous, so careful. Nobody can possibly connect me to Amelia. Can they?
I hang up on Peter and drop the phone onto my desk. He must realize I’m upset, because he doesn’t bother contacting me again. I jump to my feet and pace back and forth in my office. Pacing helps me think. It calms me down, and right now I am on edge.
I’ve been busy lately. Amelia might have been my first kill, but she is far from my last.
All my victims have been disposed of properly.
I bought a crematorium in every town where I own property for that specific purpose.
To the few people who knew my victims, it seems like they vanish off the face of the earth.
They leave no belongings behind, no letters, and no trace of where they go.
I even have someone who scrubs their digital trail for me.
All that remains of them are small vials filled with their ashes hidden in my room.
Could I have made some kind of mistake? The idea is preposterous. I don’t make mistakes. I don’t leave room for error in anything I do. That’s why I take precautions before I act. That’s why my routine is so strict and why I study each kill so meticulously.
No, nothing I’ve done here in Lake Lure or anywhere else has given me away. I’m confident about that. I especially wouldn’t consider someone like Juniper Sage Featherstone to be the one to finally catch me. But who is searching for Amelia?
The doorbell rings, jolting me out of my retrospective analysis.
Without even looking, I know it’s her. She can’t leave me the fuck alone to save her life.
I know what she’s thinking too. She sees me out here, alone, and thinks she might be able to seduce me and win my heart like this is some sort of romantic comedy.
The more she shows up and pesters me, the weaker my resolve, and eventually I’ll just realize she’s exactly what I’m looking for.
Well, she is exactly what I’m looking for. It just isn’t what she is hoping for. If she’s looking into Amelia, the sooner I can wrap my hands around her pretty little throat, the better.
I yank the door open, ready to reprimand her for bothering me yet again, only to find the mail carrier standing there.
“Signature, please,” he says with a strained smile. I grab the pen he’s holding and sign the clipboard before he hands me the package.
I’ve been so preoccupied with planning the kill that I completely forgot about the extra security cameras I ordered. After the crab-walking incident, I realized there are some blind spots on my property.
I close the door and lean against it, taking a nervous breath.
I can feel the paranoia and stress creeping in around my vision.
I know the stress I’m feeling is just because my schedule has been off, thanks to Sage.
I’m frayed, and mentally exhausted. But I also know the kill will help with that.
I know that I’ll feel so much better after. I’ll finally feel calm again.
The alarm on my watch beeps, and I look down. Even with my nerves on edge, my schedule persists. It’s time for my daily walk.
I slip on a pair of athletic shoes and make my way outside.
During the walk, my mind wanders without restraint.
I’ve always found walking to be therapeutic in a way.
I don’t care for nature or the sound of birds chirping happily in the trees, but I enjoy the repetition.
One foot in front of the other, over and over and over again.
There’s rarely any room for error. I know the path I take like the back of my hand.
As I walk, my mind drifts back to her. Amelia Banks.
I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought about her. In the same way you never forget your first kiss, you don’t forget your first kill. It’s been years since Amelia went missing, and the two of us weren’t linked together in any official capacity. Why are we being searched together now?
My thoughts come to an abrupt stop when I see a vibrant pink mess of hair moving at the end of my path. I clench my fists at my sides. Yet another thing Sage has trespassed on.
She’s standing at the edge of the path, the overlook there staring down at the lake itself.
She has her phone set up on a tripod, with a ring light behind her, completely ignoring the natural daylight that is illuminating the entire area.
I stand motionless as I watch her sway back and forth, clearly trying to master some kind of trendy internet dance.
Her cheeks are pink from a mixture of the heat and what I can imagine is exhaustion from her repeated attempts. My eyes lower to her round ass, swaying to a rhythm I can’t hear. Her dancing has me mesmerized, her moves draw me in, and for a long time I just stand there staring at her.
She stumbles and stomps her feet on the ground, running her fingers through her hair as frustration takes over. Now she knows how I feel every time she knocks on my door.
Sage doesn’t notice me as I watch her. My mind moves seamlessly from Amelia and the searches to Sage and all the things I want to do to her. I don’t usually kill with my bare hands, but I can clearly imagine it with her.
Even now she’s practically teetering on the edge of the mountain. It would be easy to push her off. Once authorities watched the videos of her dancing so close to the cliff, it would be ruled an accident. It could be my easiest kill yet. I wouldn’t even have to deal with any cleanup.
But that’s not part of the plan, I remind myself. I haven’t watched her and studied her as I know I should. Besides, when it’s her time, I want to enjoy it.