*
He liked that fact that the house had an internal stair that led directly from the garage to the basement. It saved some cleaning when things occasionally got messy. He carried Nicole Fletcher downstairs over his shoulder, turning on the overhead fluorescent lights as he entered what he liked to call his operating theatre. After all, he thought of what he did here to be a form of medical procedure, giving his patients the treatment they needed-and deserved. He liked the term 'operating theatre', because not only did he carry out those procedures there, he filmed them as well. He would have liked to broadcast them for his fellow Reaper fans to see, but there was too much risk in that-so he kept those recordings for his personal use, and pleasure.
He laid the Fletcher girl down on the double bed he had set up. He'd made sure he'd put on a fresh set of sheets earlier in the day-she deserved a fresh, clean, and sterile environment for what was about to happen to her. He checked her pulse, strong and consistent-good. His gaze went to the windows at ground level, each one covered by a thick film that provided the privacy he needed. He'd checked and re-checked many times to make sure no one could see what was happening inside.
He set about with his first order of business, putting the heparin lock in her foot. He was getting better at this bit, he thought. Practice makes perfect. He liked having it in her foot-that way any plastic lines weren't getting in his way when he worked on her. He knew the barbiturate he'd injected her with would be wearing off soon, so he got the Rohypnol ready. He turned on a small Bunsen burner and heated it up until the roofie liquefied, and then drew it up into a syringe. With the heparin lock effectively in place, he injected the drug into her system, knowing it would do its work efficiently as soon as the other drug wore off. He'd wait until she was awake and watching before he removed her clothes. He always loved the look in their eyes when he started to do that.
While he waited, he checked and laid out his supplies. He had enough bags of saline to keep her fortified for the next thirty-six hours or so, which was all he needed-he knew he'd be tired of her by then. He had more than enough roofies. The supply he'd gotten from his guy in Toronto would last him a year. It had cost him a pretty penny, but the results had been worth it.
The girl started to come around, a tiny moan issuing from her lips as her eyelids flickered. He stepped over and started his video camera, checking to make sure it was trained on her laid out body just the way he wanted. He walked over to her and looked down, her gorgeous blue eyes opening slowly, and then looking right at him, the icy-blue orbs opening wide in terror.
"It's all right, Vicky," he said, reaching down and tenderly stroking her cheek. "You and I are going to get to know each other better, just like we should, just like I know you always really wanted." He reached down and pulled her sweater up, lifting her unresponsive body off the bed as he drew it over her shoulders and head before setting it aside. He reached behind her and undid her bra, placing it on top of her sweater as he exposed her firm young breasts.
"Very nice, Vicky, very nice indeed," he said, lying her back down as he got up and moved to the middle of the bed. He reached for the button of her jeans and undid them, pulling down the zipper. "We won't be needing these either." He shimmied the tight-fitting jeans over her hips and down, sliding them over her bare feet, making sure he didn't catch them on the heparin lock. Her eyes were racked with panic as she watched him, trying desperately to move, or even scream, but unable to do either. He moved back up along the side of the bed, his cool fingertips tracing along her inner thigh until he reached her panties. Her panties were black and lacy, and matched the bra she'd been wearing.
"Well, these are very nice, but we're definitely not going to need them either," he said, reaching forward with both hands.
Her panties came away in shreds as he tore them off her. He held the torn garment from the tip of his finger and waved them at her, smiling as he turned and took a few steps away, draping them over a hook on a wall rack that already sported three other pairs of similar torn panties. She watched as he reached into a plastic container on a shelving unit placed against the wall. The fluorescent lights above her were harsh and glaring, making it difficult to see clearly what he was doing. He took his time, meticulously placing whatever he'd taken out of the container onto a small metal tray. He finally turned and walked up next to her, a smile on his face as he lowered the tray for her to see.
"Here we are, Vicky. I think this will be a good start, don't you?"
He tilted the tray slightly and held it so she could clearly see what was on it. He smiled as those gorgeous blue eyes opened wide, not because of the cigar lying at one end of the tray, but because of the four condom packages lying next to it.
"It'll be all right, Vicky. I know this is exactly what you need to make you feel better. And this," he said, pointing to the cigar. "This is to celebrate with afterwards."
He set the tray down, lifting up one of the condoms and tearing open the package, waving it at her as he started to undo the buttons of his shirt, the smile never leaving his face.
Every Breath You Take Page 57