The Therapist Chapter 7

The two weeks Julie and Tim were with him always flew by. It made life go by faster too. They were with him for two weeks and the month was over. It was that fast. They’d wanted to decorate for Halloween while they were home. Arranging the graveyard on the front lawn was their favorite. He told them there was still plenty of time for that when they came back.

He’d just dropped them off at their mothers. She only lived a few blocks away. It was always hard the first evening. The house was empty. Sometimes he would go see a friend, hang out for a while. The following day he would be back at school with faculty and students and the week would pass.

He knew some people thought he was a bit of a loner. In truth, he wasn’t much of a loner at all. He was a social person and enjoyed the company of other people. He didn’t like being in his own head and if he was alone too long he’d go there.

Tonight he hadn’t wanted to be alone so he had gone to Manchester. He just wandered through the stores. He wasn’t really shopping. He didn’t plan on buying anything. He just wanted to be out.

According to an article, he read once he was a typical American. The article stated, “If you’re reading this article, it’s not for you.” It was about Americans being unable to just sit. The gist of it was you weren’t doing something you were wasting your time. He knew he fit that description.

Tonight he’d just wandered the store's people watching. Like a lot of other people, he liked to do this. Heck, scientists studied animals all the time, on land and in the sea. Scientists studied their mating habits, eating habits, migration habits, and a lot of others habits. So it didn’t seem odd to him that he liked to people watch. Julie’s mother always gave him a hard time about this. Your staring she would say. He probably was. But he’d never had anybody confront him about it.

Unfortunately, his years at the Center had trained him to watch for behaviors predators exhibited in grooming their victims. Working at the Center had traumatized him too. He knew guys who worked there who wouldn’t bathe their toddlers because of the trauma the work inflicted on them. He understood it too but he refused to allow it to interfere with his being a father. He pushed the thoughts away. He did the same with the images.

But as Julie and Tim had gotten older his constant vigilance and paranoia had started to interfere with their childhood friendships. Everyone was a potential sex offender, pedophile, and therefore a threat.

They would tell him, “Our friends aren’t your students Dad, cut it out!” They were right. Three years had passed since he’d left there and he was beginning to recover, though slowly.

He walked out of the Seven-Eleven and climbed into his truck. It was a beautiful evening. Still light enough to drive without lights. It was about sixty degrees out with a warm breeze. He headed out of town following Route 9 south past Taco Bell and the South Mountain Plaza. He caught the highway heading west. He knew it was Route 6 but he’d grown up around here and still referred to it as the highway. When he was a kid if you came to Manchester it was on Old Route 6. It was two lanes, one going east and one going west.

A railroad crossed the highway just after you got on. The lights on the tracks were flashing and two cars ahead of him had stopped to wait. In all his years of driving this highway, he could only think of one other time he had ever had to stop here for a train. Except for this time there was no train in sight.

He didn’t want to wait and thought about going around. He decided to do it and checked his side view. A car was coming up fast and he could tell the guy wasn’t going to stop. He waited.

The guy shot past and Ryan followed. The other two cars continued to wait. He laughed to himself. He knew the people waiting in those cars were struggling with staying or going. Looking foolish or getting caught. That was human nature. Everybody had done it at one time or another. He was gaining on the car that had passed him on the tracks.

Jesus Christ! He hadn’t seen this guy in years and now… it was Mount Two right ahead of him again. He slowed down, pretended he was looking for something in case the guy looked back to see why he hadn’t passed.

This guy was sure of himself. So confident he would never be caught that he still drove the same type of car and kept the same license plate. Ryan decided to follow him and find out who he was. He meant to do that last time, had forgotten. This time he would find out if the guy was on the registry. If he was then Ryan was going to put him out of business permanently.

He stayed far enough back so the guy wouldn’t think he was being followed. Dusk was starting to settle and he turned his lights on. As they approached the exit that would take them through Carlyle and past the college, Mount Two put his blinker on. Shit! This guy was relentless. Apparently, it worked for him now and then or he wouldn’t keep doing it. Ryan decided that tonight this game would end.

Ryan knew guys like this were twisted. Yet it still baffled him how they could do it. Didn’t they even think about the damage they did? For them, it was all about immediate gratification. For their victim, son of a bitch! It disgusted him. He took a few deep breaths and let them out slowly. Easy he told himself. Don’t make it personal. Just investigate the situation and take the necessary steps to deal with it.

Going through Carlyle the streets were busy. But there was no one bumming a ride and nobody walking alone. Mount Two drove slowly along the street. Finding no easy target he headed out of town. Reaching the outskirts he took his first right at an intersection onto Route 30. He drove for about a mile and then took the on-ramp back on the highway heading west.

Ryan followed him only a short distance when he turned into a rest area. Ryan knew what he was doing. He continued up the road a short distance. After going out of sight around a bend he took the next U-turn. He followed the road back and took the next exit. He took a left off the exit and got back on the highway heading towards the rest area.

He reached under his seat, pulling out a small scabbard. The gloves he took from the console next to his seat and put them on. He saw the car still parked there and turned in. As he did so he flashed his lights once. Mount Two flashed his lights twice. He pulled up behind him.

Ryan got out of the truck and walked around behind it. As he did so he slid the scabbard inside his pants, down along his thigh. He walked to the side of the man’s car and heard the front door lock click. He opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. He closed the door and the lock clicked again.

“I haven’t seen you before,” the man said. “Yea, it’s been a while. I haven’t seen you around either. You used to pick me up when I was hitchhiking back in college.” “I’ve gotten that a few times over the years,” the guy said looking out toward the highway and laughing. God that laugh was so grating. Ryan used the distraction to slide the rapier from his thigh. “I never got your name though,” Ryan said. “I’m Ronny Mitchell. Didn’t I introduce myself when I picked you up in college?”

Last words Ryan thought. Ryan turned his head and looked through the back window out towards the highway. Mitchell turned his head to see what he was looking at. Ryan thrust the blade under Mitchell’s right armpit and into his lungs. His eyes locked with Mitchell’s in the window. Mitchell’s eyes registered shock and Ryan heard him say, “Why?” The last thing Mitchell heard was, “Because you’re a sick bastard.”

Ryan wiped the blade on Mitchell’s jacket and opened the door. He looked up the highway, it was dark. Be careful. Check things. This killing was too risky. Even so, he was still glad for it. No point lying to himself. This was personal and he was glad he had exterminated that piece of shit in the car.

He climbed into the truck and looked back up the highway. There were lights. A car was coming. He sat and waited. If somebody pulled in it was trouble. If a police officer pulled in it was over. Damn! Stick to the plan, nothing random, and nothing personal. The lights swept along the highway. As the car passed the rest area the lights barely reached the two vehicles.

He waited. The car went around the bend. Nothing was coming. He turned the key and gunned the engine. He didn’t turn on his headlights until he was moving on the highway. He breathed a sigh of relief. Relax now. Ryan played it all back again; from the time he got off the exit in Carlyle.

He thought about coming through town. There was nothing that should have been noticed. He went over it, turning onto the highway, taking the U-turn, getting back on the highway, pulling into the rest area. From the time he pulled into the rest area until he left was no more than eight minutes. It was quick. He was surprised it was so easy once he decided to do it. No hesitation. It was the element of surprise. Strike quickly. It had to be fast. No struggle. A struggle would leave clues.

Even though this killing was unplanned he was confident no evidence had been left at the scene. It might even prove to be important. It would confuse the investigation. No newspaper article. The attack was from the front seat. The victim had to see his attacker. There was no struggle. The detectives would assume the victim must have known his attacker.

This attack would be Sunday, September twenty-fifth, not a Thursday at the beginning of the month. They’ll be wondering if it’s even the same person. If Mitchell wasn’t on the registry the pattern would be completely broken except for the weapon used to kill the bastard.

It could be morning before they found Mitchell in the rest area. There was a dusk to dawn curfew for the rest areas on the highway. It was eight thirty-five now. A State Trooper might spot Mitchell’s car and check it out or someone might report it. That was unlikely though. People didn’t like to get involved. Bastards like Mitchell counted on it.

He reached the Milton exit. He would be home in a few minutes and check the registry for Mitchell’s name. The town was quiet. There was nobody on the streets. It wasn’t that way when he was growing up. Kids roamed the streets until parents hollered their names across the neighborhoods. Parents generally didn’t worry about where their kids were. Everybody looked out for each other it seemed. He laughed to himself. Nostalgia was wonderful but he knew things were never really quite the way people remembered them.

He drove up the street and turned into his driveway. He got out of the truck and walked to the back of the house. He turned on the water and dragged the hose out a couple of feet. He rinsed the rapier clean. He put the scabbard under the hose and let the water run until it was clear.

Putting it back under his seat he went into the house. The computer was on and he clicked the explorer icon. He searched the New York registry; found it. He clicked on the registry and typed in Ronnie Mitchell. Boom he thought. Asshole! There he was. He had a conviction for one count of indecent exposure. It was two thousand and five. He was currently living in Dresden. He was considered low risk. He was no longer monitored by the Department of Corrections.

Who was watching these guys? It seemed no one. They were pretty much free to feed. Mitchell wouldn’t be feeding anymore. Sick bastard! He wondered how many young kids remembered that license plate number. Some people would say he didn’t deserve to die for what he’d done and continued to do.

But if he didn’t deserve to die for them, how did it end? He just gets to keep doing it. When was enough for the system? Did they think this guy was just funny? Well, Ryan didn’t. It was bullshit!