Thread: Internet Killers {Love&MrQuixotic}

The killer didn't respond to the woman's final message, and instead, continued with his research. It didn't take long to discover more about Vivian her date and place of birth, previous residences, schooling grades, college applications and employment history, and the deeper he probed, the more he was encouraged that indeed she was who and what she said. The most interesting discovery was her medical records, and the man's eyes furrowed in an expression of curiosity when he scrolled through the list of her prescriptions, and ultimately arrived at the diagnosis. Unlike Pete Norris, who possessed a perfectly clear mind, fully aware of the inhumanity of his acts, and enjoying them for just that reason, it appeared there might be another driver behind Vivian's cravings. That didn't concern Pete, as long as she was sane - as he considered the term - when they met, of which he was becoming more confident they would. Next, he moved on to her proposed victim, but the murderer only briefly perused the information. Just enough to ensure her existence, and that she met the description Vivian had provided was all he required, for Pete had swiftly decided that, at least for the time being, Monica would be allowed to live. As he clicked closed her image, the man momentarily wondered what she'd done to spark Vivian's ire, and if his potential partner needed a reason to wish to see another human being suffer. He hoped not, as Pete Norris possessed a wide variety of tastes, and a large part of his arousal was gained from the knowledge that his victims were total innocents, whose only crime was to be unfortunate enough to cross his path. Content with what he'd found. Pete switched off the computer, and sat in silence for a further hour, with his eyes closed and breathing soft, as his plan coalesced. Eventually, the night grew old, and the darkness both outside and inside increased, he moved from his seat, grabbed a can of Pepsi from the refrigerator and retired to his bedroom to snatch a couple of hours of sleep. The man had a plane to catch before dawn. Fortuitously, he had no meetings planned for the next week, apart from the one swiftly arranged for the next day in Vivian's home state, and his consultancy profession - deliberately chosen for that very reason - allowed him to work from any location in the world with wireless access. Pete was also an expert at remaining anonymous, and possessed no friends amongst the residents of his apartment building, therefore his absences never drew attention, if they were even noticed at all. The man departed at 4am, and hit the tarmac at Buffalo two hours later. Forty-five minutes after that, the slim thirty-three year old, attired in a pair of khaki's and white, buttoned up shirt, had parked his rental car and located a caf down the street from Vivian's apartment complex, Her image, and vehicle registration, was imprinted in his memory, and after dumping six packets of sugar in to his triple-shot espresso, Pete seated himself at an outside table, absently stirred the drink with a plastic spoon, and fixated his gaze on the entrance. Wakey, wakey, Vivian, time to come out and play.