With an IQ in the superior range, he knew enough about investigations to launch an assault in an area where no one knew him. But sometimes the need to kill overcame him and he acted on impulse. Young girls were best, he’d discovered, because they were so gullible. They let strangers pick them up. He cruised through Middletown, New York, a straight shot on Interstate 84 from where he lived, until he spotted Paula Perrera. Paula’s friends knew she often hitchhiked to get to her house in the country, but she always assured them that she’d never get into a car with anyone who seemed creepy. The slender teenager, just 5 feet tall with curly blond hair, trusted her instincts. She’d know a rapist or killer if she saw one. A friendly girl, Paula was active in her church youth group. She suffered from depression at times and disliked being teased, but she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to harm her. She had plans. She was going to be a chef one day. Her life would work out just fine. So just after she passed an auto shop on Route 211, Paula got into a car with a man who offered her a ride.
