A Dark Mind

by T. R. Ragan

  He exhaled and focused on the house in front of him. He’d been watching Rene and Harold Lofland for six months now, along with a few other potential couples.

  He’d never gone that long without killing before. Most people, including the “experts,” had no idea how much patience and skill it took to do what he did. Many believed that killers suddenly snapped one day, grabbed their gun, and shot the first random person on the street. Hell, what fun would that be? People who went ballistic for a minute and then regretted it later were not killers. They were just stupid.

  His only worry was that Rene Lofland was a big lady. It would take at least two doses of his usual tranquilizer to get her down, but it would be worth it. He’d knocked out and beheaded a cow before and then raped the carcass. He figured it would be sort of like that.

  Thunder boomed, making him shiver and giving him an adrenaline boost. He wouldn’t have come out tonight if he’d known it was going to rain. And he might have left if two bright headlights hadn’t lit up the driveway.

  He knew the house as if it were his own. But he also knew that the cleaning ladies had been there today. Rene Lofland was anal about the carpet, and there would be no moving around inside without her knowing someone had been in the house.

  He had chosen the Loflands because a) he always selected complete strangers, and b) the Loflands were so damn syrupy with each other. When he’d first noticed them at the nursery all those months ago, he’d known right away that Rene wore the pants in the family. The whole idea of Rene being the boss caused him to pass them right by. But thirty minutes later, fate stepped in when Harold had a heart attack right there in the middle of a path next to a bunch of fruit trees. Harold went down like a newly cut pine, and Rene fell to her knees and wept like an infant before coming to her senses and shouting orders like “Call 911!” and “Somebody do something!” and “HELP!”

  Not only did he follow the ambulance to the hospital, he made sure he ran into Rene every chance he got while Harold was being cared for. Rene figured he was at the hospital visiting a relative. She didn’t really care what he was doing there, which made everything perfect. He helped her and she helped him. She just hadn’t questioned his motives yet. But she would understand his intentions very soon. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he told her who he was and why he was there.

  Her expression, no doubt, would be priceless.

  Sacramento

  Tuesday, May 1, 2012

  Lizzy had meant to leave the office before 5:00 p.m. to deliver papers to Michael and Jennifer Dalton, the owners of J&M Realty. It was almost seven when she pulled up next to the curb. J&M Realty was lodged between a dry cleaner and a boutique on a quiet street located in downtown Sacramento. She planned to leave the envelope in their drop box and call it a day. She turned off the engine and got a whiff of new-car smell. After her last car died, she’d picked out a brand-new Ford Escape. It was a brown four-door, environmentally conscious, with aerodynamic design.

  After catching a glimpse of someone inside the office, she grabbed the envelope sitting on the passenger seat and climbed out of the car.

  The door to the realty office was unlocked. Jennifer Dalton was on the phone, but she waved Lizzy inside. Not wanting to rush her, Lizzy went ahead and took a seat in the leather chair positioned in front of Jennifer’s desk.

  Jennifer was a beautiful woman. She had a perfect figure, brown eyes, and thick auburn hair that swept past her shoulders in soft waves. Cindy Crawford’s twin sister, Lizzy decided. And as if that weren’t enough, her smile was bright enough to light up the entire room. When Jennifer and Michael had first come to her seeking help with a workers’ compensation case, Lizzy had been mesmerized by the couple’s outward affection for each other. It had surprised her to learn that they had been married for nearly fifteen years. With the way they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, she would have guessed they were newlyweds.

  “I do appreciate that someone has gone out of their way to make plans for Michael and me on our special day, but it’s not going to work out,” Jennifer said into the receiver. “No, that won’t be necessary. Yes, I understand feelings might be hurt, but I’m sure whoever called you will understand.” There was silence while Jennifer listened to whatever the caller was telling her. “My husband and I have already made arrangements. I’m sorry, but my answer is still no. I really need to go. I’m sorry.”

  Jennifer sounded beyond annoyed. More silence followed as she listened to the caller.

  “If you could give me the name of the people who called you to set this up, I’ll give them a call and take care of it myself.”

  An open folder sat on the middle of Jennifer’s desk, invitations and lists spread out from one end to the other.

  Jennifer looked at Lizzy as she listened to the caller and rolled her eyes, clearly perturbed. She used her pen to make notes on a sticky pad. “Yes, that’s very kind of you,” Jennifer said into the receiver. “I really do have to go now.”

  Jennifer hung up the phone. She looked at Lizzy and her shoulders slumped forward. “Wow. That guy would not take no for an answer.”

  Lizzy said nothing. She’d met the woman only once before, but she felt her pain—nothing worse than a stubborn caller who wouldn’t listen.

  “As you can see,” Jennifer went on, gesturing at all the papers on her desk, “Michael and I are planning a party.” She began stuffing half-finished notes and invitations into the open file. She crumpled up the sticky note and tossed it toward the garbage behind her, missing by a few feet.

  Lizzy nodded. “I remember Michael mentioning that your anniversary was coming up.”

  “That’s right.” Jennifer smiled, but she was obviously still upset by the phone call. She rubbed her temple. “The man on the phone was adamant about picking Michael and me up before the party, but I have already made arrangements with another couple. If he told me who was behind the idea of this ‘special ride,’ I would have been able to clear it all up with one quick phone call. With the economy spiraling downward, I think he was just desperate not to lose the job, which makes me sad.”

  “Understandable,” Lizzy agreed.

  “I’m sorry,” Jennifer said. “I’m rambling on while I’m sure you have better things to do than sit here listening to me worry and gripe.” She took a breath. “What have you brought me?”

  “It’s the contract for the Simpson case. As soon as it’s signed, I can get started.”

  Jennifer took the envelope Lizzy handed her, pulled out the papers, and read them over.

  The contract was short, basically stating that Lizzy would initially charge up to, but not more than, fifteen hours of surveillance over the next few weeks. She would use video and photographs to keep track of Simpson’s activities. Eli Simpson, an employee of J&M Realty, was claiming he slipped and fell while showing one of their foreclosed properties. According to his claim, there was little he could do without pain, and he was therefore housebound. The insurance company wasn’t working on the claim fast enough, so the Daltons had hired Lizzy to get proof to help them speed things along. If Simpson raised any red flags while Lizzy was watching him, she would meet with Jennifer and Michael again in a few weeks to view videos and pictures. At that time, they would decide whether they had enough evidence.

  “Everything looks great,” Jennifer said as she signed the contract. “Michael and I would like you to get started on this right away.” She stood and went to make copies. The moment she disappeared, her phone rang.

  The answering machine picked up after two rings. “Office hours are from eight a.m. to five p.m. Please leave a message and we’ll get back to you shortly.”

  After the beep, a man’s voice came on the line. “I’m calling about your property off Guadalupe Drive in El Dorado Hills.” There was a long pause as the caller waited for someone to pick up. Lizzy heard a noise in the background, a tinkling of bells, like someone had just walked through the front door of an antiques shop. “It’s late,” the
caller said. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”

  Jennifer came rushing back into the room. She picked up the phone, but it was too late. “Damn. We’ve had that place on the market for over a year. He didn’t leave a number, did he?”

  Lizzy shook her head. “I don’t believe he did.”

  “It’s not usually so crazy around here,” Jennifer said as she sorted through the copies she had made. “Too many weird things happening to me lately.”

  “What’s going on?”

  She waved a well-manicured hand through the air. “Hang-up calls, dead bugs, bumps in the night, you get the drift.”

  Lizzy didn’t get the drift at all. “Are you being harassed?”

  Jennifer stopped what she was doing and shook her head. Her shoulders slumped a tiny bit. “My mother passed away six months ago. It seems every little thing is upsetting me lately. I need to take a deep breath and settle down. Everything is fine. I bet you’re regretting that you stopped by.”

  “Of course not,” Lizzy assured her. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

  “Thanks.” Jennifer did her best to sort the copies from the original, making sure not to include any of her party-planning papers. She restapled the original contract and handed it to Lizzy along with a check. “The deposit is attached. That should do it.”

  Lizzy put the envelope in her bag, and then stood and shook Jennifer’s hand. “I’ll get to work on this right away and call you in a week or two with an update.”

  “Thank you,” Jennifer said as she followed Lizzy to the door. “Looks like it’s going to rain.”

  Lizzy looked out at the sky. Dark gray clouds were huddling together, up to no good. Before she had a chance to open the door, a man’s face appeared on the other side of the glass.

  Jennifer shrieked and jumped back.

  Lizzy instinctively reached toward her shoulder holster for her gun.

  Jennifer put a hand on her chest. “It’s Michael.” She opened the door. “You scared the daylights out of us.”

  Michael Dalton stood well over six feet. He was in his late thirties, but with blond windswept hair, broad shoulders, and a healthy tan, he didn’t look a day over twenty-nine. He gave his wife a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that. I was surprised to see your car still parked at the curb. I wanted to make sure you were OK.”

  Jennifer gave him a forgiving smile before she gestured toward Lizzy. “You remember Lizzy Gardner. She stopped by to bring us the contract for the Simpson case. I already signed it, made copies, and gave her a deposit. She’s going to get started right away.”

  “Great. Nice to see you again,” Michael said, offering his hand.

  “Nice to see you, too.”

  Stepping inside, he held the door open for Lizzy and said, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you snag Simpson. Nothing worse than a freeloader.”

  “I will,” Lizzy said. “I’ll be in touch.”

  A couple of raindrops dotted the sidewalk as Lizzy unlocked the car door. Once she had her seatbelt on, she turned on the ignition and glanced over her shoulder at the realty office. Michael Dalton was staring out the window at her. Shivers coursed over her body. She gave him a quick wave, but he didn’t wave back. As she drove away, a strange sense of foreboding rose up around her.

  CHAPTER 6

  It was an urge…a strong urge, and the longer I let it go the stronger it got, to where I was taking risks to go out and kill people—risks that normally, according to my little rules of operation, I wouldn’t take because they could lead to arrest.

  —Edmund Kemper

  Antelope

  Wednesday, May 2, 2012

  Dominic Povo took the boring out of surveillance work, Jessica decided as she watched him work. The man was sizzling hot, a Greek god in the flesh. A couple of his coworkers weren’t too bad either. No wonder Danielle Cartwright was considering throwing caution to the wind and marrying for a fourth time. According to the research she had done on Povo, he was the foreman on this particular construction site in Antelope, California, a flat area with few hills and no major bodies of water.

  Povo grew up in Pittsburg, California. When he was eighteen, he moved to Las Vegas and went to culinary school. He never earned a degree, and it was still a mystery to Jessica as to how or why he detoured from culinary to construction. Extracurricular activities included hanging out with his pals and making regular treks to Las Vegas, something she intended to ask Danielle about.

  From what Jessica had seen so far, the man spent most of each day inside the trailer parked on the site—a lot of meetings were held in that trailer. He would appear in the morning dressed in khakis and a collared shirt. He usually carried building plans under his arm and did a lot of pointing as he gave his men instructions. He appeared to have a temper, although she was basing that solely on his expressions seen through Lizzy’s expensive HD binoculars. It was easy to see every bit of strain on Povo’s face when he became annoyed and angry.

  Povo had surprised her a few hours ago when he stripped his shirt off, grabbed a hammer, and began working right along with the rest of the guys. He had rock-hard abs and biceps that wouldn’t quit. He had a strong jaw and a pretty face, too.

  It wasn’t exactly hot outside, but obviously Povo didn’t want to mess up his fitted dress shirt. She’d been following him for three days now. Last night he’d gone out with a few of the guys, drunk a few beers, and ended up at his apartment alone. The night before that, he’d slept at Danielle’s house.

  After leaving Povo, Jessica always returned to her apartment. There was little furniture, but she liked having a place to call her own. Although she worried about her mom, she didn’t think she was doing Mom any good by living with her and lecturing her day after day about drinking too much. After Jessica’s brother moved to New Jersey, she decided it was time to grow up, move on, and get a life.

  Last night, Jessica did what she usually did when she got home: she heated up some Top Ramen, studied for a bit, and then watched television. She also spent too long feeling sorry for herself. Pathetic. Her last boyfriend, Casey, had broken up with her after she refused to sleep with him. She hadn’t been ready to take their relationship to the next level, but now she regretted holding back. Although everybody mistook her for a teenager, she would be twenty-one soon. And she was still a virgin. But that didn’t mean she didn’t think about sex. She thought about it a lot. She just hadn’t met the right guy yet.

  Jessica looked at the clock on the console. It was almost three in the afternoon. She needed to take off soon and meet Danielle at the coffee shop in Rocklin. Danielle did a lot of traveling, so she wanted an update before her upcoming trip.

  As Jessica watched Povo, a large white van backed up onto the smooth flat dirt that would later be the backyard of what was now a shell of a house. Her stomach grumbled. She was starved. And she was also broke. Hopefully Danielle would offer to buy her lunch. Ever since she’d moved into her own apartment, she couldn’t afford luxuries like food. Lizzy had finally given her a raise, but that extra seventy-five dollars a month barely covered utilities.

  She took a long gulp from her stainless-steel water bottle and watched a construction worker push an empty wheelbarrow toward the van. He opened the double doors at the back and then looked about, first to his left and then to his right.

  Jessica looked around, too. What was the problem?

  There was nothing but a few model homes and more than fifty acres of semismooth soil.

  The driver climbed out and the two men made quick work of tossing bulky garbage bags from the van to the wheelbarrow.

  Strange.

  The man with the wheelbarrow disappeared behind the house, while the driver shut the van doors, hopped behind the wheel, and took off. Jessica stayed low as he passed by.

  Once the van was out of sight, she straightened and looked at the clock again. Time to go. She turned the key.

  A rap tap tap on the passenger window made her jump. She put a hand to her chest
when she saw a young man looking inside her car. Shit! It was one of the construction workers.

  Stay calm, she told herself. Pretend nothing’s wrong…just looking at a few model homes, trying to get a feel for the neighborhood.

  The engine was running. She could take off, but what good would that do besides confirm that she was guilty of spying? She needed to play it cool. Her car was an older model, and she had to lean over the passenger seat and manually roll the window down a few inches, leaving enough room so she could talk to him, but not enough so that he could get his arm inside and unlock the door.

  “I was wondering if there was something I could help you with.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head for good measure. “Everything’s fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded.

  He took a closer look at the neighborhood, which consisted of a labyrinth of empty lots and three finished model homes surrounded by a colorful string of flags. In the distance, she could see a few homes under construction.

  When his gaze returned to her, she held up a folder filled with pamphlets and detailed plans of the three-thousand-square-foot homes with two and three bathrooms. “I like the Tuscon home the best,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said, trying not to stare at his broad shoulders or well-built arms. “I like the large kitchen and the three-car garage.”