The Lonely Mile(26)

But the problem was he couldn’t be positive that was the case. Sure, Agent Canfield was the professional, she had probably dealt with dozens of cases similar to this one or maybe, God forbid, even worse. And her take on the note made sense. But what if he really was spelling out his plans for the immediate future in that letter? What if he really was coming for Carli, just as he had stated in plain English?

If the sick bastard was coming for Carli, then his reasons were irrelevant, whether it was to get even with Bill or because Carli really did fit his twisted image of female perfection.

Because it was all Bill’s fault.





CHAPTER 25


THE DREAM IS ALWAYS the same. You swear you’re going to tell your mother what the man is doing to you at night, in the dark, when he comes to you while she is fast asleep and safe in her bed. You swear you’re going to tell her, but you never do.

Instead you make a promise to yourself. You promise yourself that you will survive and get even someday. Even if it doesn’t happen until you are a full-grown adult, even if it doesn’t happen for twenty years, you will get even.

You lie in the dark, hardening your heart, visualizing what you will do to even the score and how you will do it, and gradually, slowly, ever so slowly, your tears stop flowing, and your sobs stop choking you, and you begin to calm your frazzled nerves, and you begin to feel like you might actually be able to survive, to hold on for one more day. Picturing the vengeance you will reap when you’re older works for you, makes it possible for you to struggle through one more endless assault.

The dream is always the same. You are terrified and humiliated and in pain, and you get through the night by promising to get even. Someday you will get even.





CHAPTER 26


May 27


THERE WASN’T REALLY ALL that much to the plan, when you came right down to it. Despite the fact he had told them what he was going to do, Martin determined it wouldn’t be that hard to take Carli Ferguson. He was a predator, and a good one at that. He was smarter, better-prepared, and far more motivated than the herds of sheep surrounding him. Even if you warned the sheep the wolf was coming for them, they still, ultimately, were only as bright as…well…sheep, and sheep were no match for the cunning wolf.

So even though it would have been much easier to snatch Carli Ferguson two days ago when she had stood so tantalizingly within his reach—he could have waited until her friend went home, or sliced her friend’s throat, grabbed Carli, and been into his car and gone before any of the grazing sheep even sensed something was amiss—doing it this way would be much more satisfying. He felt like a cat toying with a mouse. Except that, when he was finished toying, he would have sweet Carli—his beautiful young angel—who represented a much more desirable prize than a nasty rodent. And they would share seven days of unimaginable bliss together before he sent her on to her final destination, trained to please.

Unless, of course, he decided to keep her for himself.

The time now was just past noon, and the drive from his home to Stockton High School would take no more than thirty minutes. Dismissal time at SHS wasn’t until just after two o’clock. That was one of the first details Martin had checked, so there was no need to rush.He had figured, teenage obstinacy being what it was, that Carli would convince her mother to let her take the bus to and from school for the foreseeable future. Obviously, she wouldn’t be walking home any more—her mother would never allow that and neither would the police. He knew she didn’t own a car and was pretty confident she would flatly shoot down any plan that required her to be picked up at the front door of the high school by Mommy—that would constitute the most flagrant form of teenage humiliation imaginable, especially for a senior.

Thus the school bus would be left as the only reasonable alternative, and after discussing the matter with the police, who were almost certainly staking out the Ferguson home, the reluctant mother would agree to allow her child to ride the bus. She would hesitate, but the police would eventually convince her that they could keep Carli in their sights as she walked the short distance from the bus to her front door. Carli would insist she was not going to be picked up at school by her mommy—Martin smiled as he pictured his angel stamping her foot, hands on her hips, to make her point—and the mother would cave.

That had been his working theory, and he had been right on target. He waited in a lot around the corner from the store where he had met with Carli a couple of days ago—he wasn’t crazy enough to park in the convenience store lot for a third time—and, as the bus turned the corner, he pulled out behind it, three cars back but still with an excellent view of the passengers as they exited at their stops.

When the bus had screeched to a stop in front of Carli’s house a few moments later, he watched intently as one solitary passenger—his angel!—ran down the steps and hurried across the front lawn and into her house. The police were parked across the street in an unmarked blue Caprice, about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the side of the head. Of course, the whole thing was just a show of force; they had no reason to believe he would be bold enough to try to snatch her here. The cops were so intent on tracking Carli as she crossed the lawn that they didn’t pay the slightest attention to his car when he drove past them after she disappeared into her house. Idiots.

That was yesterday, and his little sortie behind enemy lines had given Martin all the information he needed. Today would be the day. It was very soon, some might say too soon after giving the police and that interfering busybody the advance warning of his intentions, but the plan was pretty much foolproof, so there was really no reason to delay.