CRIME THRILLERS-A Box Set Read Online Free Page A
Author: Billie Sue Mosiman
out.
He must gain her confidence, learn more about that father she mentioned. Kid might stay in touch with home and that could bollix up plans. She needed to be cut free before he could trust her to any extent. She started thinking about what her father would want her to do or be, she might not bend to his will on the trip west. That would never do.
Pretending to stretch, Cruise leaned back in his seat and reached his left arm over and behind his head. He yawned and grunted, meanwhile lightly touching, checking the back of his head with the pads of his fingers. Underneath the long hair, he kept a small area shaved. He had glued a Velcro patch there and the matching patch to the tiny, four-and-one-half-inch, hooked-end knife he carried. It was too dangerous to drive across country with a weapon the cops might find on casual inspection during a traffic violation. (Bundy had been found with handcuffs in his trunk. Handcuffs . That little oversight put him behind bars in Colorado, the stupid bastard.)
Cruise had grown his hair long and kept the knife concealed there for more than three years now. It was stainless steel and razor sharp. The handle was slightly curved so that it fit in a good grip around his index finger when he used it. On the side of the handle was a silver skull and crossbones.
The hook on the business end of the blade caught and ripped flesh. He had found the odd little lethal knife in a pawnshop in Chicago. The idea of strapping it to his head and beneath his hair was a stroke of pure genius. His victims never expected a man to pull Death from his hair and wield it with such lightning-quick movement. Cruise could rip open a man's throat with his special little knife in three seconds flat. In the first second they saw it. The eyes reflected deep, paralyzing fear. In the second instant they felt the cool metal against their warm throats. In the third second Cruise had them; they belonged to him.
Feeling the knife securely in place, he lowered his arm and asked the girl if she wanted something to eat when they reached Hammond, Louisiana.
"Sure. Wake me when we get there, okay?"
He assured her that he would.
He tried to keep his mind occupied by listing the rivers they crossed. Outside of Mobile he began the river name game. He crossed Singing River. Beautiful name for a river. The next was the Biloxi. Then Wolf. The names rolled through his thoughts until he lost their order. There was the Jourdan, Pearl, Arnite, Mississippi River, Whiskey Bay, Atchafalaya, Lake Pelba, Lake Bigbeaux.
His thoughts gradually wandered over to his passenger. Little Molly. Then for the next hundred miles while oncoming lights steamed past on the freeway, and she slept slumped against the car window, he stole lustful glances at her slight body. All the while he admonished himself to take it easy, go slow, work the girl around until she loved him.
Until she worshiped him as a god.
#
Mark Killany knew his daughter was moving away from him on Interstate 10 West. After frantic questioning of her friends, he discovered she was headed to California. At least she had told her friends that much. Since their home was in Dania, Flonda, the most direct route to the opposite coast was by 1-10. She had but a few hours start on him. He had left to do some grocery shopping and on his return found her note.
I'm sorry, Daddy, but I have to leave. I can't be perfect the way you want me to. We're driving one another crazy. I'm not going to the counselors anymore. Don't come after me because you won't find me.
Molly
It took him some time to withdraw money from the bank, pack a few clothes, question her friends and acquaintances.
As far as he could tell from investigating her room, she had taken few clothes and no personal articles. She didn't have money except for the ten-dollar allowance he had given her the day before so she had to be traveling as a hitchhiker.
God. Molly on the roads hitching. She could get raped or killed before she
He must gain her confidence, learn more about that father she mentioned. Kid might stay in touch with home and that could bollix up plans. She needed to be cut free before he could trust her to any extent. She started thinking about what her father would want her to do or be, she might not bend to his will on the trip west. That would never do.
Pretending to stretch, Cruise leaned back in his seat and reached his left arm over and behind his head. He yawned and grunted, meanwhile lightly touching, checking the back of his head with the pads of his fingers. Underneath the long hair, he kept a small area shaved. He had glued a Velcro patch there and the matching patch to the tiny, four-and-one-half-inch, hooked-end knife he carried. It was too dangerous to drive across country with a weapon the cops might find on casual inspection during a traffic violation. (Bundy had been found with handcuffs in his trunk. Handcuffs . That little oversight put him behind bars in Colorado, the stupid bastard.)
Cruise had grown his hair long and kept the knife concealed there for more than three years now. It was stainless steel and razor sharp. The handle was slightly curved so that it fit in a good grip around his index finger when he used it. On the side of the handle was a silver skull and crossbones.
The hook on the business end of the blade caught and ripped flesh. He had found the odd little lethal knife in a pawnshop in Chicago. The idea of strapping it to his head and beneath his hair was a stroke of pure genius. His victims never expected a man to pull Death from his hair and wield it with such lightning-quick movement. Cruise could rip open a man's throat with his special little knife in three seconds flat. In the first second they saw it. The eyes reflected deep, paralyzing fear. In the second instant they felt the cool metal against their warm throats. In the third second Cruise had them; they belonged to him.
Feeling the knife securely in place, he lowered his arm and asked the girl if she wanted something to eat when they reached Hammond, Louisiana.
"Sure. Wake me when we get there, okay?"
He assured her that he would.
He tried to keep his mind occupied by listing the rivers they crossed. Outside of Mobile he began the river name game. He crossed Singing River. Beautiful name for a river. The next was the Biloxi. Then Wolf. The names rolled through his thoughts until he lost their order. There was the Jourdan, Pearl, Arnite, Mississippi River, Whiskey Bay, Atchafalaya, Lake Pelba, Lake Bigbeaux.
His thoughts gradually wandered over to his passenger. Little Molly. Then for the next hundred miles while oncoming lights steamed past on the freeway, and she slept slumped against the car window, he stole lustful glances at her slight body. All the while he admonished himself to take it easy, go slow, work the girl around until she loved him.
Until she worshiped him as a god.
#
Mark Killany knew his daughter was moving away from him on Interstate 10 West. After frantic questioning of her friends, he discovered she was headed to California. At least she had told her friends that much. Since their home was in Dania, Flonda, the most direct route to the opposite coast was by 1-10. She had but a few hours start on him. He had left to do some grocery shopping and on his return found her note.
I'm sorry, Daddy, but I have to leave. I can't be perfect the way you want me to. We're driving one another crazy. I'm not going to the counselors anymore. Don't come after me because you won't find me.
Molly
It took him some time to withdraw money from the bank, pack a few clothes, question her friends and acquaintances.
As far as he could tell from investigating her room, she had taken few clothes and no personal articles. She didn't have money except for the ten-dollar allowance he had given her the day before so she had to be traveling as a hitchhiker.
God. Molly on the roads hitching. She could get raped or killed before she
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