jamoche

Spring break in Miami. Sun, sand, students - and serial killers. The Miami tourist board doesn't mention the latter, not that it would really matter - there are always going to be people who think the warnings just don't apply to them.

Today was my lucky day - one of them had just walked in the door, and he couldn't have been more perfect.


JD paused just inside the door, taking a moment to evaluate the occupants. The diner held the usual assortment of people to be found at 2AM: students heading back from spring break, nursing coffees while waiting for the next Greyhound - these he avoided, as he was too tired to even think about keeping up the charade; night shift workers who didn't even look up as he entered; a few truck drivers that he looked at more carefully - he had cash enough for a bus ticket, but he wasn't averse to hitching a ride if the opportunity presented.

It didn't look like luck was going his way; the only people who met his eyes - one truck driver, and one he couldn't quite place - set off his warning bells. Shit. He let the mask slip just a little - yes, I'm young, but I'm dangerous. Back off - and found a seat where he could watch them both.


Something about the kid didn't seem right. Something about him said he was used to being a target - the way he'd spotted me, for one thing; my mask is usually better than that. The way he'd also spotted my target, and the way he'd moved - not the cocky confidence of youth, but the quiet assurance of someone with both training and experience.

If I was right about my potential playmate, it only made the kid a more attractive target; three of the missing boys had had martial arts training, two had been ROTC. None had been the sort to walk blindly into a dangerous situation, but bus tickets and ATM records had all lead here and no further.


JD had about decided that the younger of his watchers was a cop; after the initial once-over, he'd seemed to lose interest. Yeah, I am old enough to be out on my own, thanks anyway. The other, however, was something to worry about. It couldn't be a coincidence that he'd called for his check just about the time JD had finished. The maybe-cop had already left; was it too much to hope that he was a cop, and was waiting outside with a pseudo-paternal lecture on the dangers of travelling alone? Probably.


Boys and girls, come out to play...

You're not going to get this one, little playmate. I would never have set someone up as bait, but now that the kid has stepped into the role, I'm going to take advantage. For a moment I consider letting the situation go - just a bit, just to see what the kid will do - but that would be too risky.

I don't like to share, after all.


"Hey, kid, need a ride?"

JD had been expecting that the moment he stepped outside. He considered his options; nobody else was in the lot, and the route to the bus station went between a pitch-dark alley and what was undoubtedly his unwelcome companion's truck.

"No, I'm good," JD said, knowing it didn't make any difference what he said. This was not good; the trucker was smiling, as if he knew JD was planning to fight and didn't think he had anything to worry about. Fuck. There went the element of surprise.

"Is there a problem here?" JD had not noticed the maybe-cop until he stepped out of the alley - and what the hell was he doing there, anyway? If it was a stakeout, he ought to have a partner. His initial impression of not-quite-rightness returned.

"Not anymore," JD said, taking advantage of the distraction to move himself out of reach and then keep going. "I was just leaving. Got a bus to catch."

"Good," said maybe-cop - JD wasn't quite sure that what he'd flashed had been a badge - not taking his eyes off the trucker. "Go on, kid. It's not safe to travel alone." There was something off about his tone; not pseudo-paternal at all, more... disinterested. Weird, but JD wasn't about to quibble. Whatever was going on, he was well out of it.


All I've needed was proof of your intentions, and now I've got it. Tonight, you're mine...