Don't Scream

Chapter 69

Brandon waited near the dumpsters. They were tucked into a enclave, as they usually were, and the mall would be opening in 5 minutes, at ten o'clock.

Brandon adjusted his wedding band and looked at his watch, imagining all those FBI agents gathered around a conference table, circling a round and around Hannah's death. Probably planning a set up to catch him at her funeral, or something. A pro-filer on channel 13 had been interviewed and said a murderer like Brandon would normally keep trophies of his kills, and since Brandon didn't seem to be doing that , they expected he would attend his victims funerals to get a thrill from seeing what he had done. Hell, Brandon put it past the Feds to fake the whole thing and try and lure him in.

Idiots. He didn't need to go to the funerals for a thrill, and he did keep trophies from the women he killed. He kept their voices.

Brandon shifted, growing hard with the thought. He flipped down the mirrored visor on Paisly's Lexus. The beard was a nuisance, the temporary black hair dye made his scalp itch, and the padding that flattened his cheeks and gave his face a totally new shape made him feel as if he just went to the dentist. The disguise probably wasn't necessary just driving around in a car that wouldn't be missed. But he didn't want to take any chances. Even though through the tinted windows, some asshole might look at him sideways and try to be a hero or something. Better safe than sorry,

So wait, watch. The parking lot was beginning to fill, shoppers streaming like ants toward the entrance. Women mostly, alone, in pairs with children. The occasional man or family. Sooner  or later, the right combination would appear, and the end would sneak that much closer. A quick abduction, a quick phone call to Fuller, then snap. One tall, dark, and handsome FBI agent....Dead.

And Sarra Jane on a ride straight to hell.