SERIAL UNCUT (7 page)

He climbed out of his cab. When his cowboy
boots touched the pavement he reached his hands up over his head
and stretched, his vertebrae cracking. The night air was hot and
sticky with humidity, and he could smell his own sweat.

The whore blew smoke from the corner of her
mouth. "Hiya, stranger. My name's Candi. With an i."

"
I'm Taylor. With a T."

He smiled. She giggled, then hiccupped.

Even in the dim parking lot light, Candi
with an i was nothing to look at. Mid-thirties. Cellulite. Twenty
pounds too heavy for her skirt and halter top. She wore sloppy
make-up, her lipstick smeared, making Taylor wonder how many
truckers she'd already blown on this midnight shift.

But she did have very cute toes. She dropped
her cigarette and crushed it into the pavement, and Taylor licked
his lower lip.

"
Been on the road a long time,
Taylor?"

"
Twelve hours in from Cinci. My ass is
flatter than roadkill armadillo."

She eyed his rig. He was hauling four
bulldozers on his flatbed trailer. They were heavy, and his mileage
hadn't been good, making this run much less profitable than it
should have been.

But Taylor didn't become a trucker to get
rich. He did it for other reasons.

"
You feeling lonely, Taylor? You
looking for a little company?"

Taylor knew he could use a little company
right now. He could also use a meal, a hot shower, and eight hours
of sleep.

It was just a question of which need he'd
cater to first.

He looked around the truck stop lot.
Pretty full for late night in Bumblefuck, Wisconsin. Over a dozen
rigs and just as many cars. The 24 hour gas station had a line for
the pumps, and
Murray's Eats
,
the all-night diner, appeared full.

On either side of the cloverleaf there
were a few other restaurants and gas stations, but
Murray's
was always busy because
they boasted more than food and diesel. Besides the no-hassle
companionship the management and local authorities
tolerated,
Murray's
had a
full-size truck wash, a mechanic on duty, and free
showers.

After twelve hours of caffeine sweating in
this muggy Midwestern August, Taylor needed some quality time with
a bar of soap just as badly as he needed quality time with a
parking lot hooker.

But it didn't make sense to shower first,
when he was only going to get messy again.

"
How much?" he asked.

"
That depends on--"

"
Half and half," he cut her off, not
needing to hear the daily menu specials.

"
Twenty-five bucks."

She didn't look worth twenty-five bucks, but
he wasn't planning on paying her anyway, so he agreed.

"
Great, sugar. I just need to make a
quick stop at the little girls' room and I'll be right
back."

She spun on her wedges to leave, but Taylor
caught her thin wrist. He knew she wasn't going to the washroom.
She was going to her pimp to give him the four Ps: Price,
preferences, plate number, parking location. Taylor didn't see any
single men hanging around; only other whores, and none of them were
paying attention. Her pimp was probably in the restaurant, unaware
of this particular transaction, and Taylor wanted to keep it that
way.

"
I'm sorta anxious to get right to it,
Candi." He smiled wide. Women loved his smile. He'd been told, many
times, that he was good-looking enough to model. "If you leave me
now, I might just find some other pretty girl to spend my money
on."

Candi smiled back. "Well, we wouldn't want
that. But I'm short on protection right now, honey."

"
I've got rubbers in the cab." Taylor
switched to his brooding, hurt-puppy dog look. "I need it bad,
right now, Candi. So bad I'll throw in another ten spot. That's
thirty-five bucks for something we both know will only take a few
minutes."

Taylor watched Candi work it out in her
head. This john was hot to trot, offering more than the going rate,
and he'd probably be really quick. Plus, he was cute. She could
probably do him fast, and pocket the whole fee without having to
share it with her pimp.

"
You got yourself a date,
sugar."

Taylor took another quick look around the
lot, made sure no one was watching, and hustled Candi into his cab,
climbing up behind her and locking the door.

The truck's windows were lightly
tinted--making it difficult for anyone on the street to see inside.
Not that Candi bothered to notice, or care. As soon as Taylor faced
her she was pawing at his fly.

"
The bedroom is upstairs." Taylor
pointed to the stepladder in the rear of the extended cab, leading
to his overhead sleeping compartment.

"
Is there enough room up there? Some
of those spaces are tight."

"
Plenty. I customized it myself. It's
to die for."

Taylor smiled, knowing he was being coy,
knowing it didn't matter at this point. His heart rate was up, his
palms itchy, and he had that excited/sick feeling that junkies got
right before they jabbed the needle in. If Candi suddenly had a
change of heart, there wasn't anything she could do about it. She
was past the point of no return.

But Candi didn't resist. She went up first,
pushing the trap door on the cab's ceiling, climbing into the
darkness above. Taylor hit the light switch on his dashboard and
followed her.

"
What is this? Padding?"

She was on her hands and knees, running her
palm across the floor of the sleeper, testing its springiness with
her fingers.

"
Judo mats. Extra thick. Very easy to
clean up."

"
You got mats on the walls too?" She
got on her knees and reached overhead, touching the spongy material
on the arced ceiling, her exposed belly jiggling.

"
Those are baffles. Keeps the sound
out." He smiled, closing the trap door behind him. "And
in."

The lighting was subdued, just a simple
overhead fixture next to the smoke alarm. The soundproofing was
black foam, the mats a deep beige, and there was no furniture in
the enclosure except for an inflatable rubber mattress and a
medium-sized metal trunk.

"
This is kind of kinky. Are you kinky,
Taylor?"

"
You might say that."

Taylor crawled over to the trunk at the far
end of the enclosure. After dialing the combination lock, he opened
the lid. Then he moved his Tupperware container aside and took out
a fresh roll of paper towels, a disposable paper nose and mouth
mask, and an aerosol spray can. He ripped off three paper towels,
then slipped the mask on over his face, adjusting the rubber band
so it didn't catch in his hair.

"
What is that, sugar?" Candi asked.
Her flirty, playful demeanor was slipping a bit.

"
Starter fluid. You squirt it into
your carburetor, it helps the engine turn over. Its main ingredient
is diethyl ether."

He held the paper towels at arm's length,
then sprayed them until they were soaked.

"
What the fuck are you doing?" Candi
looked panicked now. And she had good reason to be.

"
This will knock you out so I can tie
you up. You're not the prettiest flower in the bouquet, Candi with
an i. But you have the cutest little toes."

He grinned again. But this wasn't one of his
attractive grins. The whore shrunk away from him.

"
Don't hurt me, man! Please! I got
kids!"

"
They must be so proud."

Taylor approached her, on his knees,
savoring her fear. She tried to crawl to the right and get around
him, get to the trap door. But that was closed and now concealed by
matting, and Taylor knew she had no idea where it was.

He watched her realize escape wasn't an
option, and then she dug into her little purse for a weapon or a
cell phone or a bribe or something else that she thought might help
but wouldn't. Taylor hit her square in the nose, then tossed the
purse aside. A small canister of pepper spray spilled out, along
with a cell phone, make-up, Tic-Tacs, and several condoms.

"
You lied to me," Taylor said,
slapping her again. "You've got rubbers."

"
Please..."

"
You lying little slut. Were you going
to pepper spray me?"

"
No... I..."

"
Liar." Another slap. "I think you
need to be taught a lesson. And I don't think you'll like it. But I
will."

Candi's hands covered her bleeding nose and
she moaned something that sounded like, "Please... My kids..."

"
Does your pimp offer life
insurance?"

She whimpered.

"
No? That's a shame. Well, I'm sure
he'll take care of your children for you. He'll probably have them
turning tricks by next week."

Taylor knocked her hands away and pressed
the cold, wet paper towels to her face. Not hard enough to cut off
air, but hard enough that she had to breathe through them. Even
though he wore a paper face mask, some of the pungent, bitter odor
got into Taylor's nostrils, making his hairs curl.

It took the ether less than a minute to do
its job on the whore. When she finally went limp, Taylor placed the
damp towels in a plastic zip-top bag. Then he took several bungee
cords out of the trunk and bound Candi's hands and arms to her
torso. Unlike rope, the elastic bands didn't require knots, and
were reusable. Taylor wrapped them around Candi tight enough for
her to lose circulation, but that didn't matter.

Candi wouldn't be needing circulation for
very much longer.

While the majority of his murder kit was
readily available at any truck stop, his last piece of equipment
was specially made.

It looked like a large board with two
four-inch wide holes cut in the middle. Taylor flipped the catch on
the side and it opened up on hinges, like one of those old-fashion
jail stocks that prisoners stuck their heads and hands into. Except
this one was made for something else.

Taylor grabbed Candi's left foot and
gingerly removed her wedge. Then he placed her ankle in the
half-circle cut into the wood. He repeated the action with her
right foot, and closed the stock.

Now Candi's bare feet protruded through the
boards, effectively trapped.

He locked the catch with a padlock, and then
set the stock in between the floor mats, where it fit snuggly into
a brace, secured by two more padlocks.

Play time.

Taylor lay on his stomach, taking Candi's
right foot in his hands. He cupped her heel, running a finger up
along her sole, bringing his lips up to her toes.

He licked them once, tasting sweat, grime,
smelling a slight foot odor and a faint residue of nail polish. His
pulse went up even higher, and time seemed to slow down.

Her little toe came off surprisingly easy,
no harder than nibbling the cartilage top off a fried chicken
leg.

Taylor watched the blood seep out as he
chewed on the severed digit--a blood and gristle-flavored piece of
gum--and then swallowed.

This little piggy went to market.

He opened up his mouth to accommodate the
second little piggy, the one who stayed home, when he realized
something was missing.

Where was the screaming? Where was the
begging? Where was the thrashing around in agony?

He crawled around the stock, alongside
Candi's head. Ether was a pain in the ass to get the dose right,
and he'd lost more than one girl by giving her too big a whiff.
Luckily, Candi was still breathing. But she was too deeply sedated
to let some playful toe-munching wake her up.

Taylor frowned. Like sex, murder was best
with two active participants. He gathered up the whore's
belongings, then rolled away from her, over to the trap door.

He'd get a bite to eat, maybe enjoy
one of
Murray's
famous free
showers. Hopefully, when he got back,
Sleeping Homely
would be awake.

Taylor used one of the ether-soaked paper
towels to wipe the blood off his chin and fingers, stuffed them
back into the bag, then headed for the diner.

-2-

"
Where are you?"

"
I have no idea." My cell was tucked
between my shoulder and my ear as I drove. "I think I'm still in
Wisconsin. Wouldn't there be some kind of sign if I entered another
state?"

"
Don't you have the map I gave you?"
Latham asked. "The directions?"

"
Yeah. But they aren't
helping."

"
Are you looking at the map right
now?"

"
Yes."

The map might have done me some good if I'd
been able to see what was on it. But the highway was dark, and the
interior light in my 1989 Nova had burned out last month.

"
You can't see it, can
you?"

"
Define
see.
"

I heard my fiancee sigh. "I just bought you
a replacement bulb for that overhead lamp. I saw you put it in your
purse. It's still in your purse, isn't it?"

"
Maybe."

"
And you can't replace the bulb now,
because it's too dark."

"
That's a good deduction. You should
become a cop."

"
One cop in this relationship is
enough. Why didn't you take my GPS when I insisted?"