He’d almost been caught at Ogdenburg’s house. He’d been outside, waiting for the principal to turn out his light. It was safer that way, easier. In the dark, in the shadows.

Then the Liberty Lake Police Department showed up and screwed with everything.

He didn’t wait around to see what was going on; he walked the half mile down the trail to his car and left. Sped toward the second target...

And she wasn’t home. Not only was she gone, but she had left quickly. She’d worked Friday morning—he’d made sure of that—and he’d confirmed that she had no plans, no reason to leave town. She’d gone because of that ridiculous press briefing and warning!

Not ridiculous if she listened.

He walked through her house, the rage slowly building. He knocked over her television. Kicked her couch. Pushed over her bookshelf. She wasn’t here!

He left before he became reckless. Drove slowly to try and control his adrenaline. He couldn’t risk being pulled over, not tonight. Because when the police found the body—and they would find one, because he would succeed—they might remember him.

Initially it wouldn’t be a problem—he wasn’t in the system. He hadn’t been drinking—he didn’t drink. He refused to be a drunk like his father. He had a local address—and a license to prove it—and he had a reason to be out, at least one that would stand up to any stupid cop who asked.

He didn’t want to go to Plan C, which would mean waiting until tomorrow night. He didn’t want to wait. Besides, it would be too close, too close to the deadline. He’d never—not once!—had his plans go so completely off the rails.

Because of the fucking FBI.

Because of that FBI Agent, Mathias Costa.

He should kill him just on general principle.

Don’t be a fool! He’s not part of the plan. You go after him, you’ll never complete your mission. It would be chaos.

Focus!

He considered his options. Wait until his third target returned at the end of the day, or go back to Ogdenburg.

He’d been driving on the freeway for the last hour. The twenty minutes from Spokane to Liberty Lake back to Spokane and now heading back to Liberty Lake.

His hands clenched the steering wheel. He found the needle on the odometer topping eighty-five—he slowed down without braking. Took a deep, cleansing breath.

He itched to find a drunk and take out his rage, but that would be dangerous. He never swerved from his path, never. It’s why he was free. It’s why he could walk the streets nameless, faceless. It’s why he could return home and breathe. He wanted a drunk because he needed to kill... He needed to release these demons, this overwhelming craving to punish those who were weak. Pathetic. Losers.

Like his father.

It’s not about him! This is about your retribution. Your vengeance. And you will have it.

Be patient.

Every mistake his father had made was because he was rash and reckless, acting with anger instead of cold logic.