CHAPTER FIVE
Herb—a moniker that stuck to him like a burr in high school and never fell off—stalked along the beach with his book tucked beneath his arm, smiling to himself as he listened to the screams of the young girls playing in the water.
There really wasn’t much difference between a playful scream and a terrified one, he mused. It was all about location. A shriek at a crowded beach would be shrugged off as innocent fun, but the very same sound uttered at an isolated motel in the dead of night—
Well, that would be enough to convince every resident within a country mile to check the locks on their doors and windows.
Herb, of course, had heard enough cries of terror to discern the subtle differences between the two. He enjoyed the sound of genuine, heart-throbbing fear. People would
