There was a witness to the latest crime—he knew that but he hadn’t been able to catch up with the guy before he ran into the police. The identification was accurate, highly accurate—an exact representation of what he looked like which was going to make going around town real difficult. Fortunately he didn’t live in the area and most people in these parts didn’t even have a television set. There was a good thing to living in the boonies, which is why he lived there, but the downside was there were less kills to be had. He had to drive into the city; he laughed at that thought because even the “city,” was smaller than the major cities of New York or California. He could have gone to D.C. and killed until his heart was content, but he had decided on Middlebrooke instead. because the killing would be easier. It was far enough from his home town while still being far enough from D.C. not to draw too much attention before he was ready for it. Timing was everything. He went far enough away to make his kills perfectly untraceable. Middlebrooke was perfect and until that night his kills had been perfect.
