A QUESTION OF GUILT
When he saw the Buick pull away, he put on the gloves and followed with his lights off. He hung back until the car turned at the next street to circle back to the highway, then he switched on his lights and brought the van up until it hit the bumper of the Buick, a move he hoped would look like an accident and make the driver stop to investigate. Instead, he saw it swerve, then brake and turn at the next street. He figured the driver thought he was a carjacker. .
He followed it through the turn, and, with no parked cars to hinder him, he swung wide and floored the accelerator until he drew ahead of the car and could force it over to the curb. Then, in rapid succession, he threw the shift lever into park, grabbed the gauze, got out, and went around to the rear of the van.
He waited there until he saw the other driver get out and close the door, then he rushed him, pinning his arms behind his back. He counted on a struggle, with heavy breathing, so, while holding him with one powerful arm, he clamped the gauze over his victim's face with his other hand and held him until he went limp.
After a few more seconds, to let the vapors take full effect, he maneuvered the unconscious body onto his shoulders, carried it to the rear of the van and dumped it inside.
With the lights out again he drove to the end of the block and turned into an alley. There, letting the engine idle, he crawled into the back, switched on a six-volt lamp for light, and tied the victim's wrists and ankles with rope, then sealed the mouth closed with duct tape. All the while the only sounds were those of the purring engine and the faint crackling noise from the disposable plastic drop cloth on the floor, which later would be discarded along with any incriminating material.
He drove out of the alley and worked his way through the side streets to Milwaukee Avenue, picked up Elston and took it to Central, then turned north to a wooded area adjoining a golf course. The woods were closed to the public after dark, but the small parking area had an outcropping of bushes that would hide his slate-gray van from passing cars on the road.
When he opened the rear door, he found his captive awake and struggling at his bonds. He considered putting him to sleep again, but decided against the idea. He wanted him awake.
He reached in, grabbed one ankle, and pulled until the victim's body was hanging, face up, halfway over the bumper. Then he got under him and used both arms to bend the man's back over his powerful shoulders so that struggling would be painful.
Swaying only slightly, he took a footpath through the trees to a spot behind an overgrowth of tangled vegetation where he let his burden drop to the ground. As he watched his victim struggle to a sitting position, he got down on his knees and took a penlight from his shirt pocket. He turned the beam on the young man's face for a moment, then he turned it on his own and held it there. His lips drew away from his teeth in a vicious smile, and his voice came out as a growl:
"Remember me?"
He shined the light on the other's face, and the wide-eyed shock he found there answered his question. He pressed the end of the penlight into the ground between them so the light illuminated both their faces.
"I remember you, too, Asshole. Spent ten months in a cell 'cuz of you . You and your big mouth. Just had to play the hero, didn't cha? Didja think I'd let ya get away with it?" He waited for a reaction, but saw only a worried frown. "Didn't anyone tell ya about me? No? Too bad. The word's out on the street -- ya shoulda listened. Because Nobody. But nobody messes with me and gets away with it!"
His hand moved to the sheath inside his waistband and removed the hunting knife. Even in the poor light, the glint of the blade was bright and sinister. He saw his captive struggling at the ropes, stirring up the dust around him.
He liked watching him squirm, would love to prolong the torture. But it was time. He accomplished what he had intended, to see the victim's terror, to make him know why he would die and who would kill him. To prolong the pleasure was not only pointless now; it was also dangerous.
He straddled the man's legs and held his head down against the ground. Then he raised the knife and plunged the blade into the right side of the chest, pulled it out and stabbed again and again, working down to the lower abdomen where the knife caught on something and had to be pulled with all his strength to remove it.
He stopped the attack and wiped the knife clean on the victim's clothing, returned it to the sheath, put the penlight away and stood up. The odor of the fumes still hung in the air around him, and he remembered that the gauze was still in his pocket. He threw it into a nearby bush and walked away.
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