She wasn't beautiful, he reflected, even though he knew he wanted her. There was something about her that struck him like Liz had, not in the way that she had filled him with fury, but in the sense that just looking at her he could feel the inevitability of her fate.
He googled the detective and chased her name around the internet. Her first two names, Teresa and Katrina, were a strange enough combination that he was able to find her on occasion, popping up in a graduation notice (criminal justice, University of Washington), and a mention of her in a case from Boise where a mass murderer had been apprehended. According to the article in the Seattle Times, local Deputy Sheriff T.K. Anderson had assisted the investigation. He found a photo of her, from another article, this from Seattle Weekly, which ran a short feature, “She Hunts Killers”. The interview spoke largely in generalizations and talked about her education (UW again) and her specialty training from places like the FBI academy in Quantico, Virginia.
“The biggest factor I have to work against is the public perception of these individuals. They rarely consider the people that they are killing to even be people. The world is little more than a playground for many of them. The media, particularly films, has fastnened onto the serial killer as a new boogeyman and it has both weakened and strengthened them in the view of the public.”
What must it be like, he wondered, to study some of the most frightening figures of the recent past, to make them your focus, your understanding, but never have the actual practice of learning from them in person, of facing the truth instead of the learning. He would find out.
The wailing of a fire engine momentarily distracted him as it tore past where he was parked. He smiled, thinking of where it might be going. The sad, burning body of that lonely, pathetic gas station attendant was nothing compared what would be, what he was looking forward to.
There were five rounds left in the gun he had taken, that would be enough to get started. Beyond that, he had his entire bag of tricks, including hypodermics, knives, surgical gloves, and the like.
Now, with a full stomach and a true vision of what was to come next, Alex began to drive. As he did, he began to fantasize about what was to come. He was sure that after Wozcynski it would be more difficult than his last kill had been, but that just made it more exciting.
He stopped for gas before started the drive to Auburn. He would wait for her, lie in wait, as he had not done since, well, since Liz, he supposed. The thought excited him even more. He was going to play it entirely by ear, let his instincts guide him, as they had so successfully done already.