Project Produce(88)

“Callie, Callie, Callie. You really are naive. You know what they say, most crimes happen in broad daylight. It’s clichéd, but true.”

“What about the whole midnight thing?”

“I’ve had to change a lot of things because of you. It’s a small price to pay for revenge.”

“I know what you look like. You’ll go to jail after you let me go.”

“Who says I’m letting you go? I’ll be long gone by the time they find your body.”

“M-My body?” It felt like bugs were slithering under my skin, and I tried hard not to squirm. “Are you going to kill me?”

He didn’t answer.

I tried to talk him out of this craziness, but I could get no other response from him during the rest of the drive. I still had no idea where we were or what borough we were even in. We were driving through some rundown neighborhood with really old homes. A few people shuffled along the sidewalk, but even if I tried to get their attention, they wouldn’t be able to see me. Stupid tinted windows. God, why had I closed my eyes when he first started driving? More important, just what did Flasher Freak plan to do to me?

I took a deep breath, determined to use my newfound confidence and stand up for myself. I could do this. I could find a way to save myself. He was half my size, for crying out loud. He might be armed, but I doubted it. I eased my hand into the side zipper of my backpack, wishing I still had good ole Jack in there. Although that would probably just tick Pickle Boy off with the sheer size of it by reminding him he didn’t exactly measure up in the produce department.

My hand bumped into my phone, thank God. Now, if I could just get it open and dial the police, I’d be...

Click.

My hand stilled, and I slowly looked in Flasher Freak’s direction. Sunlight flashed off the barrel of a gun, and I stared at the hole in the end with real fear.

He smiled the worst, scariest smile I ever saw, then said, “Call anyone, and I can end this right now. This is a silencer, in case you’re wondering.”

I pulled my hand out of my backpack. “What did I ever do to you that was so bad?”

He lowered his gun but kept it aimed in my general direction. “It’s your kind. You just happened to be the only one who got away, and well, I can’t have a woman getting the best of me ever again. Nothing personal, just the philosophy I’ve lived with for five years now.”

“Five years?” I cringed. “You’ve been doing this for five years, and no one has caught you yet?” I had to keep him talking, maybe make him realize how much trouble he would be in if he took the next step.

“Women are lying, phony bitches who deserve every bad thing that happens to them. They say they like you, but the second they discover you’re not up to their standards, they lose interest. You all say finding love is about loving the person from the inside out. Well, that’s bullshit. I’m living proof that size does matter. I lived with it through high school, then college, and even grad school. Until I decided I’d had enough, and you all needed to be taught a lesson. The lessons I teach in class put food on the table; the lessons I teach after hours feed other needs.”

“You don’t have to do this. I’m sure you’ll find someone who likes you for you. Maybe you just need some counseling and--”

“Get out!” His eyes flicked to the gun and flashed with what looked like uncertainty, but then he pointed the barrel at my head.

I had to believe that he was a molester, not a murderer. So maybe, just maybe, he didn’t know how to use that gun. If I could get it away from him, then I could probably take him. “Where should I go? Maybe you should lead.”

“I said you weren’t smart, I didn’t say I wasn’t.” He opened the trunk and pulled out a rope, then closed it. But not before I saw an all-too-familiar fake beard, wig, battered hat, and tan Trench coat, somehow making this situation even more real. “Now, get inside,” he added.

I climbed out the passenger door and reached inside for my backpack.

“Leave it,” he said, his voice growing husky. “You won’t need it. You won’t need any clothes, in fact.”

Not good. So not good. Leading the way, I opened the door and stepped into a tiny, grubby kitchen. I searched the counter for any kind of weapon, but I didn’t see anything except useless clutter, so I kept walking. “Really. What exactly do you have planned?”

“That’s right, keep moving,” he said from close behind me, his breathing heavy now. “I’ll show you just as soon as we hit the bedroom.”

Close behind me. He was very close behind me. Close enough for me to make a move. Oh my God, that was it. I knew exactly what I had to do. “S.I.N.G.,” I murmured.