Chapter 1
An early autumn wind scattered the leaves and man-made debris across the parking lot of the busy shopping mall. All the while behind the tinted windows of a black sports coupe a pair of eyes, predator eyes, were watching and waiting. The eyes scanned the entire scene as they studied the unsuspecting shoppers as they went about their business, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked among them. He sipped slowly from a cardboard coffee container, the steam rising from the rim of the cup. He glanced at his watch once more, the habit of all hunters such as, he. It’s 11:30 in the morning, and any minute now his intended prey would be parking her car in the vacant space next to his.
He had scouted this place for months and with only a few exceptions. His intended always chose this space to park. His eyes turned toward a mother and daughter now. As they busily load plastic grocery bags into the back of a bland station wagon. When they finished up, in an instant he becomes aware, a car had parked in the space next to his. He yawned and turned his head to the right and looked at the familiar two-door white Sun bird. A small knowing smile crossed his lips as he watched her sitting in the car adjusting her hair and makeup in the vanity mirror. Once again, he glanced at his watch as his intended began to open her door, five minutes. Always, five minutes after her arrival, she goes through the same ritual of fixing her hair and makeup. His confidence soared in the knowledge that most all of us follow patterns in our everyday lives. Which we are quite unaware of; and these routines make us comfortable, have little variation in them. All one had to do to be successful in the hunt was to watch and wait. Patience was his virtue and in truth, his old friend. Eight months of sitting in the parking lot, every Sunday was a mere tick of the clock to him.
He continued to watch her as she leaned back into her car to retrieve her jacket. He stared at the way her tight black jeans flatter the firm round contour of her hips and buttocks. She stood up and closed the door, lifting the handle to check and make sure it’s locked. She swings her head to the side sending her long golden blonde hair over one shoulder; she flipped it back as she walked steadfast toward the store. Her pace quickens against the bite of the morning chill. His eyes follow her every step, taking in all of her beauty until she disappeared inside the store. He closed his eyes and in his mind, for a moment and saw her standing just a few feet in front of him. Tara. That’s the name on the badge she wore, and Tara suited his needs perfect. She’s petite in stature. No more than 5′2” and 100 pounds, and of course, she’s blonde. A category he most despised. He rolled down his window and tossed another cigarette. He took a last sip of coffee, tossing the container outside before starting up the car and returning home.
***
Ted Guttenberg sat behind his desk as he poured over the piles of FBI profiles in current serial murder cases from across the country. He looked up from the folder he’s reading as his associate, Pam Wilson, entered his office. He flips the folder closed and casually drops it on the floor along with several others. Pam gives him a look of disapproval as she surveyed the paper chaos before her.
“I brought you a cup of coffee.” She reached out to place it on the cluttered desk, but gives up and instead held the cup out to him.
Ted took the cup from her hand sheepishly. “Sorry about the mess, Pam,” he offered.
She smiles. “Ted, it’s beyond being just a mess. It has taken on a life of its own, like that old movie “The Blob.”
Ted shook his head. “You sound just like Joyce.” Pam began to straighten the folders the best way she could on the desk while Ted stood and stretched. He took a long sip from his cup. “It’s great coffee, Pam.”
“It’s instant,” Pam answered, as she moved to the pile of folders on the floor and gathered them together. She turned to Ted. “Find anything interesting with these new cases, any possible suspects?”
“Not really,” he hesitated. “Well, maybe one. This is interesting, five missing women in New Mexico.” Ted lit a cigarette.
“I thought you quit.” She scolded.
Ted shrugged his shoulders. “I’m trying to cut back.”
Pam rolled her eyes as she continued to set the office in some sort of manageable order. She picked up a folder and read the heading. In bold, black letters it read; KURT BLAKE.
Pam points at the folder, “Think he has something to do with this?”
Ted moved to her and took the folder from her hand. He looked at the name, rubbing it with the tip of his finger.
“It’s possible some of this fits his criteria. I just don’t have enough information from the Feds yet. Besides who knows how much they’re sharing and how much they’re holding back. I’ll talk with the New Mexico state police. Maybe I’ll get more from them. It’s worth a shot anyway.”
Pam took the folder back from him. “Speaking of the Feds, you have a meeting with them in about three hours, remember?”
“I’d like to get out of it,” Ted replied as he removed his suit jacket from the back of his chair.
Pam helped him on with his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles in the back with her long agile fingers. She speaks as she continued to fix the jacket. “Anyway, Special Agent Collins called earlier to confirm the meeting.”
“Wait a minute, Pam.” Ted interrupted, and then continues. “Agent Collins called this morning?”
She paused. “You said that you didn’t want to be disturbed for couple of hours. Besides, Agent Collins only called to remind you of the meeting, he never asked to speak with you.”
Ted nodded his head knowing he’s stuck. Pam answered his discomfort with a short smile before she turned and left the room.
