[SP] every time you kill someone, their fatal wound shows up as a scar on your body
Detective Terry Dahl stepped closer with his arms outstretched, whispering “Lenard”, which was the fake identity I was using here, excitedly, like his efforts and games and probing had finally proven successful with this discovery. The injuries that covered my torso weren’t the types you would get even if you wrestled with ten alligators in a single day. They were distinct, and it wouldn’t take a forensics expert to identify them as scars from stabbings and shootings. Even if he wanted to believe that I was still innocent and there could have been a reasonable explanation for these injuries,
I obviously didn’t have the looks or mannerisms of a Navy Seal or a member of any of the armed forces at that. If war didn’t give me those scars, then only something underground, shady and dangerous could have. The problem was, what was it, and how was he going to find out?
“How did you get those scars? Shootout with the police? Gang war? One of those underground Chinese tournaments sponsored by different syndicates where you fight to the death? Huh? Tell me!” There was a crazy, frenzied look in his eyes, like a rabid dog. At this point, I knew that even under different circumstances, a person like Terry Dahl and I would never get along.
I had to kill him. If I didn't, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't make a discovery that would bring what happened in New York City back to the surface. We were miles away from there in Florida, but if I managed to slip and let out any information that suggested I was in New York, I was sure he was going to prod them.
And then again, I had carried out three assassinations in this city, one of which was a stabbing in the stomach at the beach. Stabbed the victim four times in the chest and abdomen.
That incident could have well been avoided, but the intel the client gave me was incomplete. I had no idea that he used to be a martial arts instructor before he retired, or that he still had the moves. I tried to strangle him, but he quickly flipped me and almost dislocated my shoulder before I managed to stab him in the belly. He lost his group due to the pain and I was able to finish him off quickly.
I wasn't paid extra for that mission.
Anyway, those scars now adorned my body, as Sandra's curse said, and those scars were now being scrutinized by Terry, who continued firing off questions at random, trying to see whether he could frustrate me into divulging even the smallest bit of incriminating info. But all it was doing was getting me pissed, and for a second I considered the odds of getting caught if I leaped on him, put a plastic bag over his head until he died of asphyxiation, and left.
I could take his phone, just to make sure it doesn't;t ribbing when they call. Maybe I could dispose of it anywhere, or destroy it. It would definitely prevent them from catching him. Taking his gym bag would probably be suspicious, and I couldn't;t take his car. Maybe...
I was being delusional.
I couldn't let my emotions force me into acting impulsively like that, or I was sure to regret it. I had to play my cards well, starting from manipulation.
I quickly put on a shirt and walked to the door before turning. "It's awfully disrespectful to ask someone questions about personal things like this, don't you think, Dahl?" I asked, calling him by his surname to establish a sense of formality.
I left before he could chip anything in, packing my things and trying to look as angry as possible, succeeding when Melissa asked me why I was angry. I just nodded towards the door to the bathroom stalls, where Terry was coming out of.
"Ask him."
Getting home, I grabbed a bottle of fruit juice and sat down at the table, analyzing the situation in my head, How could I have handled the situation better? There was no answer for that. I'd made the mistake of using the showers or even getting too comfortable in that place anyway.
I couldn't beat myself up over it too much, because I still had to think about how to take care of the problem that Detective Terry Dahl had come to pose without getting caught in an investigation. I was using another false identity, but I needed to escape again, so I thought about where to go.
Baltimore sounded like a good option.
Three jobs there, then I'd move to Chicago and do two there. Maybe one more there before I retired from the business. A quick escape to the Bahamas, and then I could put all of this business behind me, permanently.
I had no idea how long it would take the FBI to fit all the pieces of the puzzle spanning about seven states together, or if they ever would, The fact was that I was leaving a pattern subconsciously, as did every assassin or serial killer. It would take a while for them to know that they were looking for the same person in seven different states.
And they would probably never link it to me.
My reverie was interrupted when I spotted a strange car parking two houses before my apartment. I made it a habit of looking at all the cars that stopped around this axis, and I had never spotted that model or color of the car around here.
I would not have paid it any attention if it wasn't Melissa's car.
And when I saw Terry Dahl stepping down from the car, his head uncharacteristically covered in a hat but his brown coat unmistakable, I knew I had been followed.
But he was a noob, and it was his biggest mistake.
*****
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