Follow along. Quickie.
The release process was the least painful part of the whole thing. At least I was out of that cell.
I had grand plans to concoct this elaborate scheme to catch him. Something better than my last attempt that didn’t end with more words carved into my skin. Instead, I got home and I found myself sitting in my office staring at the desk.
“I’m going to miss you when you’re gone, detective. You’re so perfect for me.”
Turning my mind away from that train of thought, I considered instead the things I knew about him. The things I needed to catch him.
My last attempt involved what amounted to a stake out with me as bait. It should’ve been easy, except he was two steps ahead. He separated me from Mick and got me away before the rest of the detail could move in.
He always knew my moves, always seemed to anticipate what I’d do next. It was almost as if…
I shot out of my seat.
The first place I went was my bedroom. I turned over the mattress, slid my hand along the walls, turned over every book, examined every piece of clothing until I found it.
Along the outside of the lampshade, on the side that faced my bed, I found the little device. It had a tiny lens and I knew he’d been watching me, listening to me for a while. He’d watched me naked, probably savored those moments where I masturbated to thoughts of him.
A powerful tremor racked my body at the thought of him watching me. It rivaled the anger I felt that he’d known the steps I was going to take because he’d been listening in. I listened to the anger instead of my treacherous cunt. She couldn’t be trusted right now.
“Son of a bitch.”
I crumpled it in my hand and went in search for more. I knew instinctively he wouldn’t have put in just one.
It took me an hour, but at the end of it I located 5 of those tiny cameras. My anger grew as each one was uncovered.
I tossed them down on my desk, and sat for a moment with my chin in my hand.
He was smart, there was no doubt about it. He was also arrogant and way too fucking sure he had all the right answers. If I wanted to catch him, and stay alive in the process, I needed to exploit those things I knew about him.
The thing I knew is he loved to play god. He reveled in killing, being worshipped, and being feared. He also loved the thought of being the center of my every thought. How could I use that?
An idea bloomed in my head. It was either going to get me killed or get me a killer.
I picked up the phone and dialed my connection at the newspaper.
“Hey, Sue, can I get you to run a story for me?”