A POUND OF FLESH

Catharine Being the Tricky One

CATHARINE BEING THE TRICKY ONE

21

***DON'T FORGET TO VOTE***

"Will you just shut the hell up!"

Even with the anticipation of what was to come, his patience was wearing thin. Catharine had been kicking and thrashing around in the back seat since he had thrown her there, wedged between the seats and ground. Every movement she makes causes his seat to jerk forward, jostling him around in the driver's seat. He reaches around, pawing at the bare flesh of her legs. His gloved hand grips her thigh and squeezes. A muffled sobbing noise tries to escape her gagged lips. Mascara and snot cover her face and the leather seats as she does her best to wipe her face clean on them.

Stealing glances, he grows irritated thinking about the mess he is going to have to clean up. He should have knocked her out.

He rounds the corner and parked. Mitre Place. Another suburban location. He was hating this. A tiny horseshoe shaped sub division. Bungalows with single car attached garages lined both sides of the street. The brick homes cast deep in shadows from the large trees out front of each building. A smattering of bedroom lights can be seen on through closed drapes. Mini vans sit parked in many of the driveways. It reeked of normalcy.

Ignoring the faint noises coming from the rear of his vehicle, he pays careful attention for everything that fell outside of the typical. The police would have both ends of the street under surveillance, the question was how heavily.

An inconspicuous vehicle is parked not thirty feet in front of him. He made it the moment he laid his eyes on it. The driver sitting in the shadows, the glow of the radio giving them away.

Oh well. On to plan B.

***

"All the sniveling in the world won't change a thing." Though he hated to admit it, this one had some fight in her. He had found her where he knew she would be, it where she always was. It was the very reason he had chosen her over his other potential targets.

Catharine sold herself not so much for money, as for an exchange of goods - rent, clothes, and jewelry. She would choose her targets by going to overpriced lounges and waited until she found the perfect mark. As long as the gifts kept coming she would string them along, or until something better crossed her line of vision. So while Catharine was watching out for herself, he was watching her.

She did not even have a chance to get one drink bought for her that evening. She did not even make it through the doors. He had snatched her moments after the taxi had pulled away.

She had not been as easy to subdue as the others. While making it more difficult, it would definitely make things... interesting.

It had already taken the better part of an hour to get there. That combined with the time he had spent with Lizzie. The early evening kill had been a new and exciting experience. The natural light, added a different element for his work - dark enough to give him shadows, yet light enough for him to make careful work of his task. The dirt of her small prison had swallowed up the spilled blood, returning it back to the earth. He had not even bothered to cover her up.

They would already have some difficulty finding her, he did not want to make it any harder for them. Hopefully the little clue he had left would lead them to find her before too long.

The small 'trinkets' he had kept for himself were safely wrapped in his toque in the glove compartment. It had been twenty two long awaited days - and now that it is here, it is even more gratifying then he had remembered. She had been the starter, his palate just getting ready for the entree and dessert. Catharine.

Again she bucked, fighting in the backseat. Such spirit. This was the one that he had been looking forward too.

Plan B.

The Cathedral stood a magnificent structure. The bell tower casting an ominous presence over the street below, watching the traffic as it slowly passes by, bestowing judgment. The adornment of the stain glassed windows adds to the majesty, a beautiful art form, rarely seen outside similar establishments. He pulls into the nearly empty parking lot at the building next door. Being at the rear of the building it offers discretion and less visible from the busy street out front.

Feeling the vehicle coming to a stop, Catharine shows a renewed energy.

It doesn't matter.

They are here.

***

Footsteps. Falling heavy against the asphalt. Maybe two sets. He strains to make it out and struggles against the hissing in his ears.

She has heard them too and tries to buck against his weight, her mouth full of his gloved fingers. He can feel her trying to masticate and break the fabric. He ignores the pain and concentrates, forcing down against the struggle

They are getting close.