9
On the evening of November 2nd, shortly after eight o'clock, I arrived at the route Dr. Carlos Anderson usually took home, just in time to see him finishing up his workday.
I had walked this path to his house more times than I could count. It was a quiet area with no cameras, and very few people passed by.
So, I scattered the small iron spikes I had prepared earlier across the ground.
Screech!
The sharp sound of tires skidding told me my plan was working.
I quickly jogged to my car, which was parked nearby, and drove over to Carlos, who was anxiously trying to hail a ride.
"Hello, sir, can you give me a ride?"
Just as I expected, Carlos waved me down.
To keep things from looking suspicious, I pretended to hesitate, saying I wasn't sure if he might be a bad person.
That made Car
