INFAMOUS

CHAPTER FOUR

The man watched ominously as his next potential target played a game of tag with her two small children. She was energetic, dashing around the jungle gym with agile grace. Her kids, a boy and a girl, laughed and pranced about, trying to dodge their mother. The boy had on black pants and a green t-shirt with some sort of silver and black design on the front. It looked like it was advertising some sport from what he could see, but he couldn’t tell for sure. He was a cute kid, with longish curly blond hair and full cheeks. Couldn’t be more than three or four years old. The girl was older, possibly eight or nine. Her hair color was the same as her brother’s but she wore a high ponytail and was dressed in blue jeans and a denim jacket buttoned nearly to her neck. She raced along on long legs and hit base before she could be tagged. Yes, they were both cute, but the Viper was not particularly interested in them. His sights were set on their twenty-nine year old mother.

Of course, she had no clue she was being watched. They never did. She was oblivious to his spying, just as she had always been each time he’d done it. He’d seen her before, many times, as he jogged his daily route near the courthouse and the adjacent park. Sometimes he just jogged right by, allowing himself only a few seconds to glance at her from the trail. Not today, though. Today, he decided to run some laps around the field next to the playground. That way, he could keep his eye on her as he formulated his plan. It had been thirty-five days since he had kidnapped Victoria Wagner from San Diego. An adventure that had left him immensely dissatisfied. It had been over much too quickly and it hadn’t gone according to his plan. He was hopeful he’d get it right this time, though. No, he was more than hopeful. He was certain.

His body was fully pumped with adrenaline as he completed his fifth lap around the field. The navy sweat suit felt like it was sticking to him like glue. He couldn’t wait to get home and shower. He hated sweating. It made him feel dirty and gross and brought back bad memories of sweaty teenage locker rooms. He tried not to remember his high school days, for they were the worst of his life. He supposed that was true for some other people as well, but every time he thought about it, it felt like he was the only one. The only one to have spent his teen life humiliated and harassed on a weekly basis. Once, in his freshman year, one of the central bullies in his life stole his clothes out of his locker while he was taking a shower and put them in the girls’ locker room. He’d been forced to go in there, naked, to retrieve them. And the girls had laughed and poked fun at him because of his underdeveloped physique. Even Nancy Kissinger, who he’d had a crush on all year but never had the guts to ask out. She’d made a disgusted face when she’d seen him and whispered something to her friend, who’d giggled. He remembered that. It had devastated him at the time. It stuck in his head throughout high school. He briefly wondered if he should track little Nancy down and show her how much things change. Perhaps he would.

He turned his attention back to the playful trio on the playground as he ran. It was early, about eight in the morning, so the park was relatively empty. That was good. He hated crowds, especially crowds of children running around like little monkeys and making a lot of noise. He supposed it was a good thing that he didn’t particularly like them. Children would never fit into his life. He knew that, especially now. They’d get in the way. He couldn’t afford to have people get in his way. He supposed he should feel bad that he was about to leave two children motherless. He could kill them. It would be easy and quick. Put them out of their misery and spare them of a life of heartache. No, he couldn’t do that. Although he wasn’t that fond of children, he had no desire to murder them. They’ll be fine, he thought. Plenty of children grow up without a mother. He had.

He decided to put an end to his workout for the day. He’d been exercising for two hours a day, every day for ten years. The results definitely pleased him, physically and mentally. Although he considered himself fairly health conscious, he did indulge in the occasional cigarette and glass of brandy. It was enough to calm his nerves whenever he had a case of anxiety. He chose his diet carefully, however, for he feared his health was at risk from the nicotine and alcohol as it was. It had obviously not caught up with him yet since he’d just had his yearly physical and everything seemed to be in topnotch condition. The doctor had told him that he was in better shape than most men who were ten years younger. It wasn’t a big surprise to him. He had never been a fan of keg parties in college or spending nights in front of a television eating potato chips and sucking down beers. He’d always been a bookworm while at the university, but an athletic one. He supposed it was because he was preparing for this time in his life. It had been coming. He’d been aware of that for some time. A little bomb was slowly going off inside of him. It had taken years to begin outwardly projecting its damage, but it seemed that the time was finally here. He would embrace it. He saw no reason not to, except for the danger of being caught. Like so many before him, though, he never dwelt on that possibility. He was determined. He wanted to be notorious.

He stopped at the picnic bench where he’d left his towel and water bottle. Breathing heavily, he wiped the sweat from his neck and face and replenished his fluids by gulping down half of the bottle’s contents. He sniffled loudly as he cursed the way jogging made his nose run. Damn, he was getting a cold. Making a mental note to stop off at the drugstore for some medicine, he replaced his sunglasses and grabbed his stuff. He knew that if he continued with his plan, he’d be late for work but he didn’t care. What are they gonna do? Absolutely nothing, that’s what, he thought arrogantly. He strode down the stone steps leading to the parking lot. As he passed the playground, he stopped.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he called to the woman. “Do you have the time?”

She stopped playing with her kids suddenly and gave him a curious look. It vanished a second later, and she smiled politely. Then she looked down at her watch and glanced back at him with a friendly expression.

“Yeah, it’s 8:20,” she replied.

She’s not suspicious at all. That’s good.

“Thanks,” he returned, studying her behind his dark glasses. Beautiful.

She nodded, “no problem.”

With that, she turned her attention back to her children, walking over to the slide to catch her son as he slid down. He didn’t stay in his spot to stare at her. He merely walked away as if he were some normal person out for a jog and not a predator out looking for prey. He’d have plenty of time to stare at her later anyway. Her time would come soon. As he walked across the parking lot, he turned his head and glanced at her car. He’d seen which one she drove up in while he was jogging. Memorizing her license plate number, he continued walking away. The easy part was over. Now he just had to find out where she lived.

He got to the park entrance and turned right at the stop sign. Then, he walked up the hill that connected with the highway. He didn’t go to the main street, though. Instead, he made another right near the top of the hill and continued onto the hiking trail that went around the park. On the trail, he took the stairs that led up to the restroom. When he got up there, he very quickly stepped over to the edge of the hill that looked down on the playground below. He made sure the woman and her two children were still there, then he hurriedly ran to use the bathroom. After that, he returned to his watch spot and kept an eye on his target. Because there were so many trees surrounding the park and at the top of the hill, they wouldn’t be able to see him from where they were. He knew how to conceal himself, if it came to that. No, he was invisible to her. He was sure of it. He watched and waited, knowing they would leave soon. They never stayed long. Then he would follow them.

Thankfully, they soon packed themselves in her white Toyota 4Runner and started out of the parking lot. Knowing he couldn’t waste too much time, he ran to his car and drove quickly out of the back parking lot. He saw them make a left at the first stop sign and then another left at the second one before they began driving straight past him as he waited in the driveway. He followed them on Lemon Street, being careful to stay far enough behind the Toyota on the winding road not to be conspicuous. Then it was on to Brea Boulevard. He tailed her for another five minutes as he wondered if she was going home. He hoped she was. He didn’t want to spend all day cooped up in his car as he chased her from store to store. He was relieved when he found her driving through a residential area. She lived on Bastanchury Ave., a nice one-story house with a well-kept lawn and a Judas tree accenting the property. He stopped his car several houses down and waited for her to go in the house. After a minute or two, he drove past and got the address.

As he drove, he questioned his decision to act so close to home. Considering the fact that he lived about ten to fifteen minutes away from his next victim, he was worried it would bring suspicion down upon him. After she was gone, there would be police all over the area, questioning, searching. He hoped it wouldn’t make him panic. Perhaps he could think of it as a test. He could just will himself to maintain the appearance of innocence. If in fact he was questioned, he could act shocked and horrified that such a thing could happen in his own backyard. He’d taken drama in high school. He could pull it off. Besides, it might be interesting and he could keep a close watch on the investigation, just like the rest of his neighbors. No one would really suspect him. There was no connection between him and her. He didn’t work with her. He wasn’t an old boyfriend. He didn’t fix her plumbing or try to sell her insurance. He was nobody to her. There would be no evidence linking them. He would clean it all up. They would find no fingerprints, DNA, or fibers linking him to the crime. They still had not found Victoria Wagner’s body. She was still just a missing person case. They were going to find this one, though. That was part of the plan.

He smiled to himself as he thought about it. He was about to wake up the city. It’d been much too quiet around there for far too long, as far as he was concerned. He turned on the stereo and cranked up the volume until his side mirrors were vibrating from the bass. The first murder had left him with a bad taste in his mouth. It had been mediocre, without true artistry. This one was going to be different. He could feel it. This one would launch the city into a relative panic. It would jolt them right out of their comfort zones and force them to look over their shoulder at passing strangers. It would cause the media to come running like the jackals they were. This type of crime was not committed often in his city. That fact would give it a greater impact. It was time to let them know he was there.

His new target’s name was Sara Waterston. She lived in a perfect little home with a perfect little family. The way he saw it, she was a delicious looking piggy in a house made of straw. He was hungry and wanted nothing more than to blow it down. He delighted in knowing he would get his wish.