Shadow Chaser

He had learned to be patient, very patient. Over the years he had discovered that anything worth having was indeed worth waiting for, and he really wanted this. He had wanted this for five very long years. He had come back to this small Wisconsin town for a purpose and soon he would get back what he lost but he had to wait a little longer. He had to wait until he had all the players playing his game.

He sat back against the wall of the shop and waited. The ground he sat on was hard and dry, but he didn’t seem to notice. He had long ago trained his mind to overcome certain situations. Everyone had been fooled by his resolve. They claimed his debt to society had long been paid, and he was a free man but he’d fooled them all. Oh, his debt was paid; he spent the better part of his youth in a hospital for the criminally insane, but he learned to play the game they wanted him to, and he fooled everyone when he made his escape.

For the past eleven years, he had lived the life he wanted. Traveling from place to place, outwitting everyone. He was doing what he wanted to do. That what he did was against the laws of God and man was beside the point. He had long ago stopped caring to please anyone but himself.

He had been sitting here since early morning; hidden by the bushes in front of him, he could see the daily life of the ordinary people all around him. It was late afternoon. Soon the same people he’d seen this morning rushing off to start their day would be hurrying home from work and school to have supper and go about their lives. He could see it all playing out in front of him. Kids would be outside playing and laughing while their parents were taking care of business inside. Then one by one each family would retreat inside for their tedious evening ritual.

Daylight would fade into darkness and the laughter and other everyday sounds would settle into quiet. The empty streets would fall into shadows and finally the quiet would be swallowed by the night. His mind’s ramblings could have been a scene from a bad movie, something so old it was shown in black and white. He chuckled silently and wondered why people really lived this way. Didn’t they have any fun any more? Where was the excitement?

He sat unnoticed as daylight faded. He had been in town for fourteen days, and no one knew he was here, and that fact suited him fine. The streetlights began casting shadows all around him and he welcomed them. The shadows comforted him like a blanket comforts a child. He felt safe.

This was his time of night. He loved it. He could be either a saint or a sinner and while he preferred to be a sinner, he could become whoever and whatever he wanted. He could move anywhere and no one would see him among the shadows. He felt himself come alive. His primary senses sharpened and his lackadaisical attitude disappeared. He walked freely during the day but preferred to conserve his energy because at night he came alive, at night like the mighty lions of Africa, he hunted and his quarry didn’t escape death.

He lifted his nose and sniffed the air. Every city had its own scent. Here the air was sharp and clean. There was no stench of urban decay, no stench of human sweat mixing with garbage in the streets. Some small towns along rivers and oceans smelled predominantly like fish, but this one had no such smell, in spite of its close proximity to the Mississippi River. This town smelled like fresh flowers, cut grass, and barbeque grills. Nicely manicured lawns, clean streets, and well kept homes lined block after block. The only visible variable was the color of the houses he saw around him.

He was unimpressed. Small towns didn’t really tweak his interest. He preferred the bigger cities where he could see the diversity of the individual where people were not afraid to express their own personality. He glanced around and was disappointed in the sameness of everything.

The only part of this town he liked was the hint of natural untamed beauty. The founders of the town hadn’t stripped away the trees and had incorporated the ruggedness of the nearby bluffs. The town center seemed to radiate from the park. Built into the foothills of the bluff, the park spread out and eventually sprouted streets and sidewalks.

The park itself looked as if someone spent several hours planting flowers, mowing grass, and picking up litter. On the southern tip of the park was a lake. From where he was sitting he could see several red and white fishing bobs bobbing along the lake shore.

Across the lake was the downtown area. The business district consisted of a police station, city hall, library and an attorney’s office. Down the street and over a block were a diner and two taverns. Across the same street were the Randall P. Kirby Community Center on one corner and a Catholic church on the other. A little further away was a real estate office and a grocery store. The building where he was hiding in the bushes was an insurance office. From here he could see the corner of Oak and Fremont streets. From where he sat he could see most of the town in any direction. The bank where Hannah worked was out of his line of view-it was two blocks north of the police station but he knew exactly how long it took to walk the distance from where he was sitting.

The scent of fresh cut grass and someone burning leaves sharpened his senses. Checking his watch, he leaned forward and gazed through the bushes. He saw her coming up the sidewalk before her footsteps reached his ears. Her name was Hannah Masters and she should have been his five years ago.

He’d been observing her for fourteen days and each day she left for work at eight and returned each night by five. She didn’t go out and no one came in. He noticed she had a dog now. It was a German Sheppard she called Chloe.

Her movements mesmerized him as she played with the dog. Her long red hair flowed as she ran and dodged Chloe. Her long legs were strong and tanned by the sun. Her smile would light up a room. She was as graceful as a dancer and he remembered how her body fit against his. He couldn’t wait to have her body close to his again. He remembered her scent. She smelled of musk. The scent was overpowering. Musk mingled with fear. It was his idea of a perfect aphrodisiac, but while her smell excited him, it was her eyes he remembered the most. They were the color of emeralds, a very unusual green and when she was afraid, they glowed like the stone they represented. God, he remembered those eyes, those haunting eyes.

He saw her enter the house on the corner and waited while the lights began coming on all over. He settled back against the wall waiting and watching. He knew exactly what she would do next. He’d observed her before. He’d almost been discovered when the dog sensed him one night, but he slipped away and watched from afar.

Hannah would fix herself and the dog a light supper, clean up the dishes then go into the living room and watch T.V. Before going to bed, she would do a light workout of Tai Chi; her body was pure fluid motion as she went through the paces. He’d been fascinated as he scrutinized her performance.

Hours later he noticed as each of the lights began to go off, and she settled in for the night. He glanced at his wristwatch. The illuminated numbers told him it was close to midnight. It was time for him to move; he had so much to do before the night was over. He had to set up the other players and set the game in motion.

He stood and waited for the blood to reach his lower limbs. Ignoring his physical limits, he could feel the adrenaline surge through his body, and his mind raced with possibilities of what was going to happen during the night.

She was the reason he’d come back to this small Wisconsin town when everything within him preferred the bigger cities. In the bigger cities he could hide in plain sight and no one paid him any mind. Here, everyone knew each other and anyone new was a stranger.

Strangers stood out and people tended to remember them. In his business that could mean trouble. So far he’d escaped notice but he had been taking special care.

In this instance being invisible only heightened the excitement of the game. While she was the main reason he’d come back, she wasn’t the only reason.

Detectives Jesse Wyatt and Sam Dylan needed to be dealt with as well. Five years ago they had come very close to stopping him permanently. He barely managed to get away alive and now he was back for revenge.

He reached up to his left shoulder and rubbed the area. He felt the hole where the bullet from Jesse Wyatt’s gun pierced his skin. He remembered the red hot pain he felt as the bullet ripped through his muscle. He could still feel the blood as it pulsated from the wound.

It had taken a long time to recover, and he would make sure Jesse felt his pain and that he would know the helplessness he had gone through. Oh yes, the man grinned. What he had planned for Jesse and Sam would assuage his need for revenge, and he would have a little fun too before he was done with them.

He cast one last glance at the only light, the one in her bedroom located in the upper east side of the front of the house. He couldn’t help but wonder if she ever thought about him. He had thought about her every day of the last five years.

He turned and walked away from the house on the corner of Oak and Fremont streets. It wasn’t time to make his acquaintance with the lady of the house. The fear he wanted to see in her eyes wasn’t there yet, but it would be soon. He had to be patient. Besides, he had other things to do tonight.

The hunger inside him was growing and he needed to assuage it. As he walked away from her, he needed to find someone to take her place. He needed to feel someone else’s pain tonight. He wanted the rush of watching someone die, knowing it was at his hand.