Oliver sneered at the photo in the newspaper and folded it carefully and put it aside. The police were such incompetents. Still, they didn’t try to hide the fact that they had not a clue what was behind the string of murders in the leafy suburb of Glendale. Nor would they ever he thought.
He went to his computer, entered a password and opened a numbered file. He studied it for a while made some notes and closed it down. He looked out the window. Such a pleasant day, the sun was shining, the birds were singing. A day made for surveillance if ever there was one.
He grabbed his coat and headed for his car. He checked the address he had jotted down in his notebook then got out a map and plotted a route to his destination. He had noticed Mrs. Daniels at a café in town a week or so earlier. Something about the way she talked with her hands had annoyed him. She was definitely the one.
Traffic was light and he was at the address in no time. He looked at his watch and then at the house across the street. There appeared to be nobody home. He got out his phone and called the number he had looked up.
Three rings. Four. Five. He hung up. Nobody home. He got out and looked around. A quiet, leafy street with well kept houses and immaculate lawns. Suburbia was just so predictable. He walked across the street, took one more look around and moved down the drive and around to the back door.
He looked at the lock. It was a standard pin and tumbler arrangement, a piece of cake. He pulled on some thin leather gloves and took out his lock picks and was inside in less than fifteen seconds. He moved quickly through the living room and checked desk drawers. He gathered the information that interested him and was about to leave when he spotted a framed photograph on the mantle. He took it down and studied it. It was a photo of a man fishing with a little boy at a lake. It was such an idyllic scene, so cosy and warm. He felt anger welling up in him and had to quell an urge to smash the photo on the hardwood floor.
Putting it back just as he had found it he took one last look around and went back outside and locked the door. He made his way back to the car, making sure no one was watching. He sat behind the wheel for a while longer, studying the outside of the house, looking for clues to an approach. At last he pulled away and drove home. All things being equal he would pay Mrs. Daniels a visit tomorrow. She should be home in the morning hours; it seemed to be her habit to not go out early. Mr. Daniels was a nine to five kind of guy; he would not be a problem.
He spent the evening playing computer games and ruminating about what approach to take. As he drifted off to sleep he made his mind up about what he would do. He fell asleep with a smile on his face and was soon deep into his recurring dream. One that some would call a nightmare.
Part 2 Tomorrow