Free Eyes of the Predator by Glenn Trust Page A

backed into the space in front of the room so that the
car’s license plate was not visible and so that the passenger door was away
from the office and the possibly prying eyes of the night clerk. Parked in this
position, he could easily and quickly move the girl from the car to the room.
    Walking to the room door, he
pulled the large plastic fob with the single key attached from his pocket. The
door opened and he did a brief visual check. Taking the small trash can from
beside the bed, he propped the door open. He did not turn on the light.
    He walked outside to the car and
glanced back at the office. The motel clerk was not visible.
    With a quick motion, the
passenger door was swung open, and he was leaning over the girl. She cringed
and trembled but could make no sound. The knife was out and the tie wraps cut
with a quick flick of his wrist, hands then feet. Another flick and the duct
tape was cut and pulled roughly from her face, strands of her hair clinging to
the tape where it had circled her head. He could probably have carried her
bound and gagged into the room and no one in Roydon would have noticed, or
cared if they had noticed, but years of careful practice had taught him not to
take chances. No need to arouse the curiosity of anyone who might have
accidentally noticed them. 
     With strength deceptive for
his size, he jerked her up and out of the car. The movements were so quick and
the girl in such a state of shock, that there was no time or thought to escape.
It would not have mattered anyway. She would not get away.
    This was the moment of danger,
moving his prey to the killing ground. If she cried out or struggled, the game
might take a drastic turn for the worse, for him at least. But he had mastered
the art of control, physical and psychological. Instinct, cunning, or skill.
Whatever the mechanism, he was in control and he knew it. More importantly, she
knew it.
    The girl stepped quietly as
directed from the car. He was close, whispering in her ear. They might have
been lovers, except for the knifepoint pressing deeply under her breast. The
parking lot was dark, just the light from the neon sign casting a glow at the
other end of the lot.
    “Just get through this with me,
honey. Help me. Then I will let you go.”
    Somehow, she was convinced. She
wanted to be convinced. Deep inside, she needed to be convinced, to believe. He
just had needs. She could get through it. Despite what she had witnessed
earlier, the old man was an accident. She would survive and hide this deep away
somewhere and never think about it again. Right now, just survive.
    She nodded quietly. He saw the
hope in her eyes and couldn’t help a small smile. She smiled back a little. It
thrilled and aroused him. Hopeful but helpless.
    The whole process had taken less
than thirty seconds.
    A final glance around the lot and
at the office to see if anyone had observed, and he closed the door. This was
just an habitual overabundance of caution. In places like Roydon, it was
unlikely that anyone would deliberately notice anything that anyone else was
doing. Noticing could be unhealthy.
    Bolting the door, he turned and
gazed with a thrill into the pleading, terrified eyes. A long, deep sigh
escaped his chest and hissed through his teeth.

19.                            Driving Miss Lyn
    There, snug between the two
brothers in the pick-up, Lyn felt the fatigue set in. Not just the fatigue of
the day, it was the bone weary numbness of a life of empty horizons and
desperation.
    Accepting the moment, and feeling
warm and somewhat safe between the two young men, strangers though they were,
she felt about as secure as she ever had. Her knees were close together, and
she sat as upright as she could to avoid physical contact, but that was
impossible in the closeness of the truck cab.
    The wind rushing by the window
reminded her of the wind blowing against her bedroom window earlier and the
confrontation with her father, the