Chapter 1
The night sky was bright with stars, shining like individual spotlights on the killer. He felt like the whole world could see him move and stalk amongst the desert. There weren't many places to hide; cactus did more harm than good. There were bushes, but not a lot of them, and the majority of them had some animal that either bit, stung, or poisoned you. Or all three.
He had moved to Tucson, Arizona a few years ago. He didn't want to go too far from California and thought Arizona might be okay but the heat was unbearable, even in the winter, especially mixed with the rapid drop in temperature at night. It felt like being sick all the time; hot, cold, hot, cold, blanket, no blanket. He felt like it drove normal people to be as crazy as he already was.
He remembered stepping off the plane expecting the Old West. He waited for the cowboys to come out, listened for spurs, but saw basically what he'd seen in California. The only difference was there was a different energy. People went to California to try to be someone, usually who they weren't, but here it was like a small town feel. But he knew it wasn't a small town, and that made him feel weird.
As months went on, he got acquainted with the city. It was a good size city in the middle of the desert, diverse in culture. It was a melting pot of the whole country, really. There were a lot of natives, but just as many people who moved here from all parts of the country to escape the snow, or things like tornadoes or earthquakes. Then there were the snowbirds who came in for three or four months out of the year for the same reasons, but couldn't part with the summer months of their hometowns.
November had crept up on him, it felt like. The years were going faster these days. He didn't think he was getting older, but he could feel it coming. He'd cross that bridge when it broke. Right now it's about the kill.
Right now it was about Ed Wright.
The killer cleared his head, looked around. Nothing. A slight breeze from the east mountains, keeping in the cool. He walked up to the house. It was an adobe style house, white and brown. He saw saloon style windows, a garage, and just a three lights: one by the front door which was around the corner from the garage, one by the back screen door, and one double headed light above the garage. The killer knew there were three bedrooms. There was one on the east side, the master, and two smaller ones on the west side. He guessed one for the kid and an office. He didn't exactly know what he was walking into beyond that.
He went around to the west side and walked below sight of the windows. No lights there. Good sign. Then, he waited...listening, feeling, focused on breathing. It wasn't the first time he'd killed, but the excitement of it never left. The power, the swelling he got in his chest, the control. It all rushes back right at this moment.
The doors, he'd learned in these kinds of areas, were never locked. They probably thought there wasn't a need this far out in the desert. No animal is going to waltz in and attack.
But he would.
He touched it gently, felt that it was indeed unlocked. He went to the east side, looked up at the moon right above him, waved to the man on it, and looked for lights in the house. One. Looked to be in the master bedroom. He listened. The wife and kid shouldn't be home. After a minute of silence, he calmed the nerves enough to make a quick, subtle peek in the room. The saloon windows were just barely open enough to get a glimpse at the right angle. He looked, and saw Ed on the bed, reading. He couldn't tell what the title was, but the cover art was familiar: the latest Brian Freeman book.
Go time. He walked around back to the screen door. Opened it slowly, taking his time. Screen doors were nice because there wasn't any noise of knobs turning, or doors creaking. But there was a sound, a whoosh, if you opened it too quickly. So we went slow. Real slow.
After a minute and a half of inching the door open, he stepped inside. He had taken his shoes off outside, and was wearing socks with grips on the bottom: Silent, with stability in a house with tile flooring.
The living room was what he stepped into. There was a couch lining the wall, with small tables on either side of it, a lamp on the right table. A flat screen television was on the opposite wall, a complete sound system surrounding it. Beside the sound system was a library of DVD's, CD's and the occasional video tape of old work out videos.
He walked through it quietly in to the space that served as both a mudroom into the house that had jackets and shoes in it, and a hallway that split into the kitchen and kept going into the master bedroom.
He needed something to bring him out. He went behind the wall of the kitchen, so that he could get behind him as he was coming out of the bedroom. He knocked on the door, and slipped behind the wall.
Nothing.
He could try again, but instead decided to make more noise. He knocked over the jacket hanger, and again went behind the wall, and waited.
The room was cool, with the windows cracked and blinds slightly open so the wind could make it's way in. It wasn't a hard wind like the summer's monsoons brought. No, this was a subtle wind that felt like water to a parched throat. The worst of the heat was over, but even in what was supposed to be winter it still felt like the end of summer.
Ed Wright was a tall man, standing at six foot two and he was decently built. He didn't look it to the average eye, but he could certainly hold his own if he needed to. He had years ago been arrested for robbery, and all he really had time to do in prison was work out.
He had only spent a year in jail. When he got out he had met Brianna. Somehow along the way of dating she had convinced him to go to a church. That's when everything changed. He was the stereotypical screwed up guy who found faith and turned his life around. But it wasn't easy, and it wasn't pretty. He still had the urge to steal, but had learned to compress it. Brianna had always said something about getting rid of the nature of the sin, rather than the sin itself. That stuck with him because he understood the nature of stealing. It might have crossed most people's minds at some point, but it takes someone whose really given into the nature of sin to steal over and over again without thought. It was an addiction like any other, he supposed, but one that consumed his days.
His mind often drifted back to those days, and he enjoyed thinking about the thrill and payoff of a good robbery. He often read books, watched movies, and television shows that had to do with theft: a way to keep some of the old life alive.
Ed was in the middle of one of his day dreams when he heard a knock in the other room. Brianna and their daughter, Emily, shouldn't be home yet, nor would they knock. And it was a bit late for anyone else to be knocking. He listened for a second more, and shrugged it off. He went back to his book, and a minute later heard a crash outside his door.
Someone was in his house.
He went to the closet, and got out his baseball bat. He had told his wife a million times he wanted a gun in the house and this was why. She was opposed to it because of Emily. He wouldn't even have to use it. He knew from experience that if you even hold up a gun in robbers face that he'll run. Fast. Yet, he held a baseball bat. He hoped it would be enough. Maybe there wasn't even anyone out there. The mind plays some dirty tricks.
He stepped to his door and touched the knob quickly and released, almost like it would burn him. The door opened just the slightest. He realized it wasn't the smartest thing he could have done. If someone was out there, he just alerted them where he was and gave them time to react. So as quick as he could he ran through the door unaware of what or who was on the other side.
The killer didn't hear anything for a solid minute. Then, a faint noise. Something on the inside... a closet? He could catch him off guard and go in right now. He weighed the pros and cons quickly. Pros: Element of surprise, and fear. Cons: Didn't know what was on the other side, what he had, or exactly where he was. The surprise was not worth the risk. So he waited again.
Then, the knob turned, a handle that was long and obvious to see turn. The door cracked with a noise just above a whisper. He heard it, saw nothing coming, not at first. He stepped a foot closer to the door but realized he didn't actually want to and he was doing it out of mere curiosity. Suddenly, he saw
Ed running through the door, a bat in hand, and fear with a dash of rage in his eyes. He didn't expect this, and he was almost amused at Ed's guts. In another second his senses returned and he reacted the way he had trained himself: Kill.
Ed swung the bat with strength, but no accuracy. He hit the wall next to the man, and now the man was behind Ed. The man grabbed the bat from behind and Ed turned with it, unwilling to give up his only weapon. Ed kicked him in the stomach and the he backed off. It didn't knock him down, hardly even phased him. He couldn't tell through the mask, but he thought this robber was smiling at him. This was fun to him, Ed thought. The man stood there, waiting for Ed to make the move. He knew that this would give the robber an advantage so he decided to escape the situation rather than fight it. He dropped the bat and took off towards the backdoor, and could hear the footsteps of the man behind him; he thought he could even feel the breath through his mask.
Ed reached the open door, realizing this was how the man got in. He started running towards the desert, near the closest house. He screamed as loud as he could, “Help!” but only the cactus could hear him. He heard an owl from inside one of the Saguaro, joining in for the cry for help. He looked behind him and saw the man gaining on him. He thought of Brianna. Their wedding day popped in his head, and the image of her walking down the aisle filled his head. Oh, and then Emily came. His pride and joy. Her birth changed him forever. He remembered the first time he held her, and he knew right then he'd never love anything in this world more than her.
The man jumped him, and Ed felt something hit him hard in the back of the head. He knew it wouldn't kill him, but that he might not wake up. He said a prayer as the black overtook him.
The killer could outrun Ed, he knew that. But he needed this to look right. He needed the police to play his game. He caught up to him and hit him in the back of the head with the bat he left behind. Ed dropped fast, and skidded across the dirt.
He took Ed inside and set him sitting on his couch. He took a knife out of his belt, and thought how to best do this. He slit Ed's throat slowly, as if Ed himself was struggling with what he was doing. He started to come to, his eyes bulging at the pain. The killer cut a little deeper, and little harder and watched Ed drain.
Ed felt a pain like never before, and knew this time that it was the Blackness taking him. His wife and child still in mind, he said one last prayer for his Father to take him.
And He did.
When the killer saw that Ed had gone, he started to clean up. He needed to work quickly to leave his mark. This was what will get them to play his game. He left everything as it was but left a note of regret on Ed's computer. He then went to Ed and started in on leaving the first piece of his puzzle.
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