Before Evil

Chapter 3

3 Warren County, VirginiaHe took a different exit off the interstate. It was never good to get too comfortable and follow the same route. Although it meant depending on his mobile GPS more than he liked. Life was about taking risks, seeing opportunities where others simply drove by. Being unpredictable had always served him well.

Until now.

He hadn’t been on the two-lane blacktop for ten minutes when he saw the cruiser in his rearview mirror. His eyes automatically glanced at his speedometer. Two miles per hour over the limit, if that. And yet, when he looked up again, the cruiser’s flashing lights filled his rearview mirror, rushing up behind him.

This was ridiculous. He hadn’t done anything to warrant notice. And it was much too early for the car to have been reported as stolen. He slowed down and pulled carefully to the edge of the highway, allowing only one set of tires to drop off the blacktop and onto the muddy side.

He listened, holding his breath as he sat perfectly still. He didn’t fumble for his driver’s license. Nor did he reach to check the glove compartment where he could only hope the car’s owner kept the registration papers. Instead he sat quietly, listening for anything unusual while he watched the side mirror. He could see the asshole taking his time. Was he running the license plate number? Finally the officer climbed out of his cruiser and strutted toward him.

He recognized that strut. Uniform tight across the chest and arms to emphasis the muscles he worked so hard to develop. Hat brim low so there was no space between it and the frame of his sunglasses. He held back a smirk when he noticed the man’s sunglasses had mirrored lenses. Of course, they did. It was all part of the training package—asserting authority 101.

He waited until the asshole was one step away from his car door before he hit the button to bring down the window.

“Good afternoon, officer.”

That took the guy a bit off guard. Most people wanted to know immediately what they had done wrong. But to find the driver friendly and not confrontational or defensive? That was unpredictable.

“License and registration.”

Direct, demanding to the point of being rude. The asshole thought he was—again, asserting his authority—but what he had just revealed was that his confidence level wasn’t high enough to exchange a friendly greeting without losing that precious piece of authority.

“Yes, sir.”

He slowly pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket. All careful, deliberate movements. He didn’t need this guy suddenly feeling threatened by what he might misinterpret as a jerk or a grab. He slid the driver’s license out and handed it up. The license was a fake but he knew it was professional enough to fool even a digital scanner. The identity was one of his many and it matched his current physical appearance—a harmless, ordinary middle-aged guy.

Fact was, he hadn’t used his real name in years. Only a handful of people still knew him as Albert Stucky, but even they would never recognize him because he changed with each new name and identity. He was like a chameleon, shredding his skin and pulling on a whole new persona. Three weeks ago he was a blind veteran with a pronounced limp.

However, the vehicle registration might be trickier.

“Is it okay if I get the registration from the glove compartment?” he asked before he reached for it.

“Go ahead.”

“This is my friend’s car,” he explained as he popped the compartment open. He was only informing the good officer. No hint of excuse or reason to be defensive. “She hates leaving it at the airport, so I usually drive her.”

Under the pack of tissues and three tubes of lipstick, he found the paper he recognized as the registration. As he grabbed it he glanced over the type, committing the address and full name to memory: Susan R. Fuller. He left the compartment open to show he had nothing to hide then sat back and held the paper up through the open window.

The officer didn’t take his glasses off as he examined the driver’s license and looked over the registration.

“Where’d she go?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your friend.”

It wasn’t at all the question he had expected.

“Florida. Fort Lauderdale.”

“Vacation?”

He had to think quickly. This guy was good. If he were her friend why wouldn’t he have joined her on vacation?

“No, unfortunately, business.”

The hat bobbed but he couldn’t tell behind the mirrored sunglasses if the officer was still reading the license and registration or if he was looking for some tell. A tell was a clue, an indicator that signaled someone was lying.

“What kind of business?”

“Excuse me?”

“What kind of business is she in?”

“Susie owns a little boutique in Gainesville. Costume jewelry, bright colored scarves, that sort of thing. You know where the Red Lobster is?”

Actually she worked at a pastry shop next to the boutique, but the trick was to take the asshole off guard a bit. Turn it around. Ask him a question that seemed totally unrelated. If nothing else, the guy would be thinking about where the Red Lobster was. But he didn’t wait for the man to respond.

“It’s in that upscale shopping center off the interstate. You’ve probably driven by it.” But in saying that, he was hoping the officer would probably never notice a women’s boutique nor would he have any reason to in an upscale neighborhood that rarely had any police incidents.

To his surprise the officer handed the registration back to him but kept his driver’s license. He waved a hand at the back of the vehicle.

“One of your taillights is out. I’m gonna have to give you a ticket.”

He stopped himself from saying, “But it’s not even my car.” Instead, he watched the man march back to his cruiser and now every nerve in his body came alert.

He knew the asshole wanted to run the license plate and worse, he wanted to run the driver’s license. Whether he believed the story or any portion of it, didn’t matter. The guy was still going to bust his chops, make him sweat, push a little harder just to see if he could get him to crack.

Son of a b***h.

The driver’s license was solid. He needed to relax. He always made sure he had a credit card in the same name. Those were easy to come by. For this identity he’d even gotten a library card. Other times he’d added a membership card to Costco or Sam’s Club. He tried to change it up a bit. Never wanted to get too comfortable, take anything for granted. Part of that being unpredictable creed.

The guy was finished and on his way back.

He c****d his head and listened hard. Nothing. But he wasn’t sure how much longer this would take. Those damned sunglasses wouldn’t allow a hint of what came next. Just be patient, he told himself. And prepared. The heel of his right foot tapped the hunting knife he kept under the driver’s seat. Its presence calmed him by the time the officer arrived back at the car door.

Then without a word the asshole handed him his driver’s license . . . along with a ticket.

Even as Stucky took the two items the man’s attention was drawn away. His head tilted and his body turned to look back toward his cruiser. Stucky took the opportunity to glance at the officer’s nametag then he held back a smile.

Mr. Tough Guy living up to his name.

He shifted to look in the rearview mirror now anxious to see the new focus of this asshole. A vehicle was approaching. The first one he’d seen since leaving the interstate.

The guy was obviously done with him but he stood in place, making no move to leave. And now there was a hint of emotion. Stucky saw it in the way the guy’s jaw clenched as if he were grinding his teeth. He glanced in the rearview mirror. It was a black pickup but it didn’t seem to be speeding. And yet, it held the officer’s attention almost as if the guy was expecting it.

The pickup slowed a little, not much, weaving into the other lane to give the officer on the side of the road plenty of room. Stucky watched the asshole’s face. With his head turned Stucky could see the guy’s eyes behind the sunglasses, and he was intrigued to witness a slip of anger. Stucky was so focused on the asshole that he barely saw more than a glimpse of long blond hair in the passenger window as the vehicle drove by.

It took a second or two before the officer realized he still had a car pulled over. Suddenly the guy tapped the car door with his knuckles, signaling he was finished and dismissing him.

“Move along,” he said, his emotions back in check or so he pretended.

As Stucky shifted into gear he saw the officer glancing over his shoulder, still watching the taillights of the pickup blink then disappear around a curve. He pulled out before the officer got back into his cruiser. He accelerated quickly to the speed limit wanting to gain some distance. When he rounded the curve he looked up and couldn’t see the cruiser. He almost missed an old pasture road on the other side of a line of trees.

He skidded to halt. Glanced in the rearview mirror. He backed into the two-track road, spitting up dirt into the tire wells until he knew his car was hidden from the road by the pine trees.

Then he waited.

He wanted to see what the hell had gotten this guy all bent out of shape. Something told him there was more to this asshole under that carefully crafted surface. Not to mention the fact that he had almost caught Stucky. That pissed him off. But with his relief came a swell of power. A feeling of being invincible.

He wanted to tell the asshole, “You didn’t discover my secret, but maybe I can find out yours.”

He had several hours before he needed to worry. It wasn’t like he was in a hurry. Still, he c****d his head and listened as he watched the road, expecting the cruiser any minute now.

Susan R. Fuller wasn’t going anywhere. The injection worked like it always did. Except she must have kicked out the taillight.