Chapter Four
Tamara looked forward to getting her hands on the man who’d make Camilla cry. It made her sick when people took advantage of the weak and unintelligent. Tamara was neither weak nor unintelligent. And she would make him pay.
She broke into his car just before the nursery was to close. Holding a can of gasoline, she hid in the back, on the floor next to the black-upholstered, leather seat and donned her ghostly costume, a black sheet with eye holes and a round hole to display her cherry-red lips.
It would get hot quickly in the closed car. Tamara was banking on Mr. Martin’s eagerness to get to the motel. If he were as lustful as she believed, he would be out here as soon as the nursery closed.
Perspiration had just begun to trickle down her back when the front door lock clic
