Page 33 of Stalker

I scanned the library Drew had set up. The door had a lock on it, the room located in the back of the house. To the naked eye, the area would appear as nothing more than a place where the man came to relax and unwind at the end of a long, hard day.

But I knew how perverts acted and how they hid their proclivities from the rest of the world. I easily found his collection of pornography located in a not so safe metal box somewhat hidden behind his collection of classic books.

As if the bastard was really fooling anyone.

Even worse, I also found a collection of snuff films. Within ten seconds of starting one, I’d been ready to cut the freak’s dick off. It took everything I had not to follow through. They were old ones, but obviously used to entice his penchant for torture.

The laptop sitting on the man’s desk continued to call to me. Leaning over, I pressed the space bar and the system hummed to life. Only as expected, the computer was password protected. After a few seconds of searching to see if the son of a bitch had been reckless enough to leave a sticky note for himself and failing, I was rewarded with his moan.

There’d been no need to muffle his cries. Why bother? This was his house and this room was joyfully soundproofed. From what I’d seen, he’d filmed a few of his artful, repulsive creations from this very spot.

What I wanted to learn was how he’d selected his victims. I’d made a call to a pseudo buddy of mine in the police department. Against the rules, he’d mentioned the victims Drew supposedly raped and slaughtered had had nothing in common. Not age. Not ethnicity. Not religion. Not a single thing, which was one of the reasons why until the incident in the park, they hadn’t been able to arrest him.

How had the fucker selected his victims?

I felt as if discovering the answer was the key to the kingdom.

“Did you enjoy your nap, Drew?” I asked casually without looking down at him. I had shackled his arms and legs. I was wearing a mask, the ghost face a recent addition to my collection.

He immediately struggled, even cursing under his breath.

I laughed and finally turned towards him. “I guess you should have laid off those Twinkies. Huh? If you had, you might have a chance in hell of escaping, but alas, that simply won’t be the case.”

“Who… are you?”

“My goodness,” I chortled as I placed my hand over my heart. “That’s a very good question. Why don’t I get down to your level so I can provide an answer for you.” I dropped to my knee, unsheathing my favorite knife. As I twisted and turned the polished steel in the light, I could feel him panicking.

His shriek was met with the point of my blade being shoved under his chin. It would be so easy to slit his throat, but since finding the treats in his vault, I’d developed an entirely different plan.

“Let me clear this up for you, Drew. I’m the Stalker.”

“What the fuck?” His eyes were open. Wide with fear.

“That’s what I’ve said about you on a few occasions. What the fuck? Then I realized what I was looking at. Nothing but a cockroach scurrying through trash and feces. Disgusting.”

I was certainly no crusader, but his death would cause red flags to be raised, questions tossed in my direction and right now, the risk wasn’t worth the reward.

Besides, I’d accepted there were joys in all aspects of life, including ruining someone’s life by using a pen or an anonymous tip. I wasn’t surprised the fucker didn’t recognize me given the task he’d been trying to accomplish on that cold morning and the fact I’d caught him from behind.

“I’ve done nothing,” he breathed. “I swear to God.”

“I wish I could believe you, but nah. You’re a disgusting piece of trash. While Daddy is doing everything in his power to get you off with a slap on your wrist for your horrible crimes, I think I’ll allow the world to know the kind of actions you enjoy when you’re home all alone. Oh, wait, you aren’t alone usually, are you? What happened? Did you lose interest in how you were attracting your victims, or did they finally get too smart for you?”

I was burning inside with rage.

“No. No! You’ve got it wrong. They weren’t my victims.”

My laugh sounded hollow. The fuckers always lied.

I’d cared for one foster sibling in my years because she’d looked out for me when everyone else in the system had turned their backs on the demon child. Little did they know how well suited the nickname had turned out to be.

She’d been so sweet, so caring, even arguing with her father over my care. I would never forget her kindness.

“Why the fuck are you doing this?” He was panting, my favorite part of every brutal event. “Please don’t hurt me. I have money. I’ll get you anything you want.”

There we were. Right at the pathetic moment where they all thought begging for their lives would matter to me in the least. It never had and never would.

“To your point of money, I have billions, and I’m not interested in selling my soul to your devil. As to the why…” I rubbed my chin and pricked his neck just enough to draw a few drops of blood. “You see, I had a bad childhood, really bad in comparison to the opulent lifestyle you grew up in, but I digress. There was one person in my life that mattered to me. One. And she was taken from me.”

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