He had been walking along the rain soaked highway for many hours, but that didn’t matter to him. He had patience. It always took time to find the right person.
Destiny would lead a driver out into this cold, rainy spring night down good old Highway 84 headed west. When driver and soon-to-be passenger finally met, there would be no stopping what would come. They were meant for each other. And he could wait for something like that.
So he walked on, acknowledging the sign almost subconsciously that read, “20 miles to Boise.” As he pondered whether to duck inside the shelter of the near-by rest area to heat up his frozen body until the rain ceased, he heard a vehicle approaching. He extended his thumb reflexively and was pleased to see a black Volkswagen Bug slowing down as it passed him. It came to a stop on the highway’s shoulder.
He jogged to the car and opened the door. A small, brown-eyed, auburn-haired woman wearing a warm smile met his eyes.
Perfect, he thought. He said, “Hello. Thanks for stopping. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever get out of this weather.”
“No problem. Get on in,” she said. “You can toss that bag in the back.”
“My name’s Kyle, by the way,” he said, brushing his hand against he shirt to dry it off a little bit before extending it.
“Meg,” she answered taking his hand.
He turned back to the door and pulled. His grin broadened as the door clicked shut.
Yes. Just perfect, he thought still clutching his faded-green duffle bag.
* * *
Kyle, as he called himself, though she doubted it was his true name, was blatantly examining her elfin face as she brushed the auburn locks away from her face. His eyes would occasionally drift down to where her dress shirt was buttoned at the rise of her breasts and then down to her thighs and calves revealed by her skirt. Inwardly she rolled her eyes as she babbled with him. Neither one saying what they were thinking.
“So where are you headed?” she asked him, drumming her fingers lightly on the steering wheel.
“I guess I’ll shack up in Boise overnight. I’m trying to make my way to Portland for a while. I’ll see what I find there and maybe shove on to Seattle.”
She nodded as he took off his hat, and then reached into his bag, pulling out a brush to take to his long wavy black hair.
“What do you do?” she asked. She knew full well what he did. She’d known it from the moment he took her hand. His memories filled her mind like photographs.
“I’m a mechanic by trade, but I’ve done a lot of different jobs. I just like traveling and the freedom of being on the road.”
He told her stories of working in the hot humid summer in Lincoln, Nebraska where there were only rolling hills of corn for miles around. He’d fallen in love there. A striking, tall, ebony-haired lady had come to the shop where he had worked. After he’d finished servicing her car, he’d serviced her so to speak.
Rachael and he had been inseparable for a while — until he got restless and felt the need to hit the road. They parted ways, the kind of parting that left no question of a later coming together again. He spoke about how her hair had gleamed in the moonlight and how they could practically read each other’s thoughts from the start.
Not well enough of course, Meg added silently, or she’d still be alive. You bastard.
“How sweet. I’m surprised that you don’t want to go back and try to find her again. Don’t you miss her?”
“Ah, I always feel like she’s with me. I guess you could say I keep a part of her in my heart still,” he turned to her. “Enough about me. How about you? What do you do?”
She hesitated and glanced from the road to him.
“You’d think it was weird if I told you,” she said.
“Ah, come on. Try me.”
“Okay. But I warned you,” she paused. “I help out at my father’s funeral home. I am finishing up my training to be a mortician.”
“No shit?” he said.
“No shit,” she said and smiled. “We’re almost to town. Where would you like me to take you?”
“How ‘bout I buy you a drink as a thanks for driving me on this awful night. I sure do appreciate it. That is unless you need to rush home.”
“Nope…not rushing to anything at the moment. I’ll take you up on that.”
Perfect, he thought once more. Just perfect.
“We can become better acquainted and enjoy ourselves,” Meg said hinting sinfully at undisclosed opportunities that may come up if he proved himself to be charming enough.
Kyle eagerly accepted the unspoken challenge and answered that it sounded like a marvelous idea.
Of course he was already coming up with ideas of things he’d like to do with her that sounded much more pleasing than just sitting in a bar and talking. But he reminded himself to be patient and just see where things went. He looked again at the rise and fall of her chest as she silently drove and told himself that she would be well worth his wait if everything happened as he planned.
* * *
While they had made conversation and listened to the music at the Blues Bouquet, he’d realized what it was that had drawn him to her – her eyes. Her eyes were haunting, warm, and they reminded him of Rachael’s. Unlucky for you, Meg. He had enjoyed the feel of her fingertips as she casually touched his forearm. It helped make the meaningless banter slightly more bearable as they drank. When she had leaned across the table, put her lips to his ear, and said, “Let’s get out of here,” he’d nodded quickly.
Now as they drove, he grew eager, hard with the thoughts of the kill to come. He worked to keep a reasonable smile as he pondered the first slice of his knife. Imagining the look of disbelief that would come to her face was almost excruciating.
Beside him Meg did her best to keep the clueless, innocent, wanting look on her face as the images of him dismembering her sporadically came to her. She also caught the occasional muttering of Bitch in his inner voice. He was obviously working himself into whatever state was necessary for him to do what he did. The anger and lust seethed, she had to admit the emotional cocktail was rather delicious.
She gave him his first surprise after they slipped from her car and back into the rain. She shoved him up against the door of her house and kissed him – hard, demanding. He was shocked enough to respond, momentarily lost in the taste of her, the dance of tongues, shared breath. She felt so good in his arms, her breasts against his chest. Her fingers gently touched his face.
Bloody Hell, he thought once they had parted. He would have to take care with this one. He couldn’t afford to be so easily distracted. He focused on Rachael and all the others who had betrayed him, mocked him, dismissed him. She’s just another slut. He picked up his bag that had been dropped as she’d kissed him.
The kiss had done exactly what she wanted. He’d now forgotten to question why such a tiny, gentle, innocent young woman would be so comfortable taking home a stranger.
Meg almost felt sorry for him as she unlocked her door. Almost.
* * *
She invited him to sit on the couch while she fixed them drinks and snacks. She disappeared down the hall behind him as he settled in.
Meg did her best to keep her own anger in check as she readied her second surprise for him.
People always took Meg for granted. Taking in the smile she wore with practiced perfection, her warm brown eyes, and her small stature, they thought her ordinary and innocuous.
Men thought of her as an easy mark, someone easily seduced by mere attention, because even with her pleasant looks she didn’t receive the adoration granted the taller, blonder goddesses. Women filed her in the back of their minds as non-competition and sometimes befriended her, opening up to her, giving to her in private confidences ammunition they would never dream of telling men or most of the other females they knew. After all, she wouldn’t use their secrets to hurt them now would she?
Always being misunderstood and taken for granted had its advantages though. People never expected what they ended up receiving from her. They never thought that someone like her on the outside could possess the spirit she did on the inside. The look in their eyes when they finally realized whom they were dealing with was always delicious.
Her mother had been abducted and killed by a serial killer when Meg was only eight years old. The police had eventually caught and jailed the man. But that hadn’t ended her quest for justice.
As she grew up and her psychic gifts became apparent she began to consider alternatives other than jail for those who murdered. It took some time, but her family had grown receptive to the idea once she had proved her accuracy to them. It certainly helped to have a father who owned a funeral home with a crematorium, a sister who was a doctor, and a brother who was a weightlifting coach at Boise High School. In many ways it seemed like this was their destiny. Destiny, the word brought a smile to her face as she filled the syringe and returned the vial to the refrigerator. He’s coming.
* * *
Kyle removed a knife from the bag and quietly headed down to the kitchen. He peeked in. The kitchen was empty. He stepped into the kitchen toward the open door of the pantry.
Meg had slid into an opening between the refrigerator and the cabinets after preparing the syringe. When he passed she stepped out and injected him in the arm. She caught him as he weakened and eased him to the ground.
She picked up her cell off the counter and dialed.
“I need you to drop by. I found one.”
* * *
The steel table was cold on Kyle’s back as he came back to consciousness. He discovered he was gagged, naked, and his wrists and ankles were in restraints. The door to the cold, grey room opened. A man entered and approached.
“He’s awake,” the stranger called out. Then he began to check the layout: various surgical instruments, prescription bottles, and syringes on a cart next to the table.
The door opened again, and Meg appeared. She walked over and took one of his hands. Kyle cringed as he noticed she had his bag in her hand. The man nodded at her and left.
“Welcome back, Kyle. I was afraid I may have gone overboard on the sedative, but it worked out well,” she said. “I don’t have a lot of time, so here are the basics of your situation. That was my brother, Keith. He helps me with the heavy lifting.”
She took a bottle and a syringe, began loading the syringe.
“We are at my father’s funeral home now. I presume you can imagine why.”
Kyle watched as she loaded the syringe. He surged against the restraints. She then took a tourniquet and wrapped it around his arm to expose the vein. Despite his struggle, she injected the fluid into him, removed the band.
“The paralytic coursing through your veins will eventually cause you to suffocate, but I have a good twenty minutes to work with before that happens. Until then you will be paralyzed and aware of everything happening to you. Understand?”
The terror in his eyes answered that he did. She began removing his ankle restraints.
“You made a fatal mistake in choosing me tonight. You were rash. You didn’t research. If you had, you would know I lost my mother to someone like you.”
She removed his wrist restraints. His eyes flashed. “Yes. That’s right. I’ve felt and seen what you have done. I know what you planned to do to me. Like your victims, you will disappear tonight.”
She unzipped his bag taking out the tape, the hatchet, the knives, the saw, the rope and laid them on the table beside him. She shook her head.
“Not very nice,” she said picking up the hatchet. “I don’t intend to be either.”