"I have a map," Farley said.
"Son, you are a genius. I swear it."
"Better fasten your seatbelts," Melanie advised.
Blue Volvo fishtailed, righted itself and zoomed away from the hospital grounds.
Nothing mattered, now. He had blood on his hands, a full-blooded killer. And full-blooded killers die doing what they do best - killing, of course.
Trevor Gillefoy wanted to scratch the wound on his neck, but he remembered his mother's words of caution. "That's God's way of healing you," she'd whisper comfortingly. "If you scratch it off, you could get an infection."
He crouched beside the Draper's house, having walked through their backyard and then the Benedettos' to get here. He listened impassively as the sirens came to a stop barely a hundred yards behind him. He debated whether to go b
