Regardless, it was bugging him much too soon. He absolutely had to be patient. He was certain they’d already figured out he was active in the area again. Three boys would be enough to tell them he’d returned. Caution had to be the order of the day, and he couldn’t afford to take another boy so soon.
There were plenty of books out there about people like him, and while he was away he’d read some of them. It had seemed important to discover where they had gone wrong, what had brought them to an end. Some had just disappeared, but some had been caught. In the case of Bundy, caught more than once.
It wouldn’t do to get cocky. It wouldn’t do to let the impulse and urge control him, because almost without fail, that’s where others like him had made their big mistakes. Not all, but enough to act as a warning.
Maybe what he needed to do was break his routine. Find a different type of victim. It wouldn’t be as satisfying, but he wondered how long he’d be able to hold out against the need that made his nerves burn like fire. Maybe he could quench it temporarily with a killing that would confuse them.
He pushed that to the back burner for now and clenched and unclenched his fists. Confusing the trail would be good, but it might not quiet his need.
“You’re a bad boy, Calvin.”
He jerked, then realized he was still alone. He often heard his mother’s voice in his head, reminding him that he should be punished. She’d punished him quite freely and quite often. His approaching puberty had seemed to set her off. She thought he was dirty and needed cleansing. Maybe so. He admitted he’d had naughty thoughts and had done naughty things, and when she caught him she punished him.
Those boys he took were undoubtedly guilty of the same naughtiness. They were all about the age. So he was saving them from the filth his mother had never quite managed to expunge from him.
He was keeping them pure.
A sense of righteousness visited him, easing the need to hunt, at least a little. He was continuing the good work. Taking a different kind of victim would not serve that goal.
But it might be useful.
At last the familiar aura receded and the world returned to its normal dull colors. He was powerful enough to control it. Strength seemed to infuse him.
He glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly time for him to head to work at the crisis center. More good work to do until he found his next opportunity for a cleansing.
Dory was a good woman, and friendly when time allowed. He enjoyed her company, and had decided to forgive her for never guessing the humiliation and pain his mother had inflicted on him. Why blame her when everyone else had been just as blind?
But thoughts of taking a woman again, as he had twice before, danced around the edges of his thoughts. Finally, he made a silent agreement with himself. If he saw a woman and she brightened as if she glowed, he would know that she was chosen. If that happened, he’d find a way to take her.
* * *
“A snorkel hood would be best for this weather,” DeeJay remarked to Cade as they walked down the main street of town in the late afternoon.
“Undoubtedly,” he answered. “You willing to sacrifice that much peripheral vision?”
“Never.”
He chuckled. “Time for a ski mask. Then all we can freeze is our eyeballs.”