I am ready.
He headed in the direction of the studio, planning his actions as he walked.
No mask.
Not this time. He didn’t care who saw his face this time. Once other men realized what he’d managed to accomplish, they’d recite his name in awe.
Remember the guy who took all those lives and the police had no clue?
They’d study him, stunned at his clever plans. A slow smile crossed his face.
He’d chosen the end to his story; they weren’t going to choose it for him.
As they’d imposed on his father, sent to die in prison.
How many people do I want to take down this time?
Indecision crossed his brain. Should he shoot as many as possible or just her?
Just her.
He would miss the rush of power from walking in public and playing God, picking and choosing who’d die. But this was the right way to handle the fed. He’d originally used the mass shootings to help mask his targets, giving the police multiple victims to comb through instead of spotlighting his victim and possibly leading them back to him. And it fell in line with using the young men as the scapegoats. Across the country over the last few decades, young men had taken out groups of people. To the local investigators, it’d appeared to be more of the same.
Time for a small change in the game.
He stopped across the large outdoor aisle and eyed the studio entrance. The door led to a lobby with stairs and an elevator that led to the second floor where the women worked out. Downstairs were empty businesses, their workers safe in their homes.
One shot as she exits the building. The scene unfolded in his brain. A discreet hiding place. Shoot. She goes down. Game over.
It was new and different. A fresh rush of excitement shot through him, giving him a dizzying high. He was stepping forward to take charge this time, not hiding in the wings as he moved his pawns.
It was terrifying and thrilling at the same time.
She’d pushed too hard. Ava had leaned against the counter in the yoga studio’s bathroom for fifteen minutes, searching for a reason to walk into the studio. She couldn’t find it. Everything was gone. She’d pushed hard all day long, trying to act normal, and now she had nothing left.
Did I eat today?
She couldn’t remember and didn’t care.
Go home.
She checked the time and knew she didn’t have the guts to walk into yoga class late. She put the strap to her mat over her shoulder, picked up her backpack, and stared in the mirror. The fluorescent lighting made her eyes appear bloodshot and her skin sallow. She’d spent the last quarter hour struggling with indecision and now that she’d made up her mind to go home, relief swamped her and she wanted to go to sleep.
Try again tomorrow.
She strode out of the bathroom, focused on getting out of the building that suddenly felt airless. She pushed through the double front doors, welcoming the slap of heat and fresh oxygen. The building had been freezing. Her stomach growled as she caught a whiff of Thai food, and she considered an order of pho to go. Trapped again in indecision, she glanced toward the parking lot and froze, making eye contact with a man twenty feet away. He’d halted, his surprised gaze locked on her.
It was the shooter. The man who’d offered to help her and Misty. Here. In Rivertown. Again.
Determination crossed his face and he took a step toward her as her gaze caught the scars on his neck, nearly hidden by his hair and cap. That’s why he wears hats.
His hand went to the large pocket in his cargo shorts.
She followed his hand movement. Pocket. Gun. Run! Her indecision evaporated.
Ava dropped everything and ran.
38
A low hum started among the patrol officers. Mason heard radios crackling and watched as their car lights and sirens started. Several of the patrol cars whipped out of the parking lot.
“What’s going on?” he shouted at a group of officers.
“Shots fired,” answered Sergeant Shaver, his phone to his ear. “Rivertown Mall. That takes precedence over this stakeout!” he yelled at the officers within hearing distance. “I want everyone over there. I’ll keep two vehicles here to keep an eye on this building.”
Rivertown? Again?
Mason stared at the coffee shop’s sign on the building, his brain spinning. Was Rivertown a distraction to get them away from this location? Or . . .
“Any injuries?” he asked Shaver.
“A mall security guard has been shot. Shooter is a tall white male in his late twenties or thirties.”
“Masked?”
“No.” Shaver got into his vehicle and started the engine.
Related to our shootings? He met the gazes of Ray and Zander. “This isn’t right. I’ve had a bad gut feeling about this location for the last half hour.” Both men agreed. “Let’s get over there.”
Ray drove while Mason monitored the information coming in from the mall. “The security guard is dead and the mall is on lockdown,” he told the other two men. “This shooter is using a handgun and started at the other end of the mall.”
“Could be a weak copycat,” said Ray. “That’s not like our guy at all.”
In the backseat Zander nodded, his phone at his ear.
“He left the immediate mall grounds before the perimeter was established,” added Zander. “They’re saying he was running after a woman, headed toward the home improvement store that sits adjacent to the mall.”
“A woman?” Mason asked, frowning as he listened to the information from Washington County dispatch. The next report verified what Zander had stated.