John Lutz - In for the Kill

Without hesitation he veered off into the darkness of the swamp. The water was at his ankles and he had to slow down. His mother wouldn't hear him over the roar and rattle of the truck, but she might see any ripples he stirred up.

Still moving swiftly, he was careful to lift his feet high and place them easily almost straight down to minimize roiling the water. Soon he was in deeper water, and foliage that grabbed at his legs and scratched his face, as he moved faster, plowing ahead.

The truck motor dropped to a rumbling idle, and the spotlight beam danced like a phantom over leaves and moss and gnarled roots. Now and then something dark and formless moved swiftly away into blackness, as Sherman must if the beam found him.

"Sherman! You come back here!"

The dancing phantom light was closer. He knew his mother was creeping along the dirt road in the old truck, checking the swamp on both sides with the spotlight.

"Sherman!"

In waist-high water now, he moved cautiously around some twisted banyan roots. When he looked up he could see only blackness. The canopy of growth obscured the moon and whatever stars were out. Pressing his back against the mossy coolness of a tree trunk, he listened to the truck engine barely turning over, the loose left fender vibrating and rattling as the vehicle tilted and jounced over ruts and holes in the road.

Movement caught Sherman's eye off to the left, and he saw the rough black hump of a gator glide away into deeper darkness. He was accustomed to gators and knew they probably wouldn't attack him if he kept his distance. Probably.

Something cool and quick darted across his bare arm and he fought not to cry out in surprise. Snake?

Whatever it was moved on, but Sherman had bit his lower lip so hard it was bleeding.

The loose fender ceased its rattling as the truck seemed to stop, the rumbling of its exhaust and the click and clatter of its idling engine unchanging. The spotlight darted closer, moved away, swooping back and forth like a live thing in the swamp.

Right now the blackness of the swamp Sherman had feared so much in his dreams seemed like his friend. Its thick foliage sheltered him. The snakes and gators that he knew were around him in the night were less menacing. They were in their element and so was he, because here in the dark, in deep water where the truck couldn't go, he was safe from his mother.

As long as the spotlight beam didn't find him.

The truck engine roared briefly, as if in anger.

"Sherman! You come back here! Come back to your mother!"

New York, the present

Anna had changed from the skirt and blazer she'd worn to work to an old pair of jeans and an untucked T-shirt lettered COMMIT RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS. She'd decided the skirt needed to go to the cleaners, but the blazer was good for another wearing. She'd just hung it up in the closet when the intercom buzzed.

She hurried barefoot to the hall and pressed the button to ask who was there.

She was puzzled when the scratchy voice on the intercom said there was a Federal Parcel package for her. She wasn't expecting anything. On the other hand, the shopping network where she often ordered things sometimes sent free gifts. God knew she was a good enough customer to have one coming. There was also the possibility-one she didn't like to admit-that she'd ordered something and forgotten about it. Anna didn't like being reminded that her shopping and her charge card balance were somewhat out of control.

She buzzed the deliveryman up, then returned to the bedroom and put on her slippers before going to the door to open it so she could sign for the package.

The deliveryman wasn't out of breath, as they usually were after taking the stairs. Must be in great shape. He wasn't wearing the usual Federal Parcel uniform and looked vaguely familiar to Anna. Had she seen him recently? At the office? In the subway? Nice-looking guy, worth wondering about.

But her attention was focused mainly on the large white package he held beneath one arm.

He smiled. "Anna Bragg?"

"Uh-huh." She returned the smile, focusing now mostly on his amiable brown eyes.

He extended his free hand, only it didn't hold a pencil or clipboard, and he'd made it into a fist.

Barely had that registered in Anna's mind when the fist slammed into her stomach, just beneath her ribs.

Her breath rushed out in a raspy whoosh!

She wanted only to curl into a ball and would have fallen, but the man deftly placed an arm beneath her and held her up, her body doubled over but her feet off the floor. He effortlessly carried her back inside her apartment.

Pain and panic were simultaneous. Anna gasped desperately, sucking in nothing because her body wouldn't respond to her mind's command. It was impossible for her to breathe out, because she had no breath to exhale. She was made mute by her lack of oxygen and by her agony.

Even in her terror, she tried to gather her thoughts. Tried to comprehend what was happening.

Who was he? Why had he done this?

What's he going to do now?

The man was maybe slightly older than she was, handsome in a regular way. Studying him through her tear-blurred eyes, she was sure they'd never met. Not formally, anyway. But there was still that feeling that she'd seen him somewhere before.

He placed her gently on the sofa and she drew up her legs even tighter and groaned as she attempted again to draw air. She was going to suffocate; she knew it.

Her cheek pressed to the sofa, she watched the intruder go to the front door and make sure it was locked, and then fasten the chain. He stooped to pick up the white box and carried it nearer the sofa, then laid it on the end cushion where her drawn-up feet didn't reach it.

Her feet were pressed together and she realized she couldn't separate her ankles. She heard a loud ripping sound.

Her clothes being torn?

No. She recognized the sound now. It had been made by tape being ripped. He'd taped her ankles together. Now she felt the tape wrapping tightly around her calves.

He propped her up on the sofa, maneuvering her so she was on her knees. She'd hurt her neck turning her head sideways so her face wasn't pressed into the soft cushion. I don't want to suffocate! Please! She was still gasping, making wheezing sounds, struggling to recapture the great gift of being able to breathe. She knew her rear end was jutting up in the air. Was he going to rape her? Take her from behind?

She didn't think so, not with her legs taped so tightly together. And that frightened her even more.

Something worse?

Her arms were yanked behind her back and her wrists were taped. It had been accomplished quickly and expertly.

He's done this before. More than once.

He turned her around so she was seated on the sofa, bent forward and unable to move.

Anna was breathing in great gulping gasps now, and glimpsed the man in profile. She understood why he didn't seem a complete stranger. He looks familiar because he's been following me!

In her new sitting position she could see into the white box at the other end of the sofa.

Suddenly she knew who the man was. Why he'd been stalking her.

She took a deep breath, managed the brief beginning of a scream, before there was another loud ripping sound and a rectangle of gray duct tape was slapped across her half-opened mouth and pressed firm.

He approached her with something metal then, worked his thumb on it, and a razor blade appeared.

She began to tremble as slowly, with practiced skill, he began slicing and removing her clothes.

The muted shrill scream of a dentist's drill in Nothing but the Tooth made its way through the wall, followed by three loud thumps.

Seated at his desk, Fedderman said, "We could give somebody the third degree in here and nobody'd notice."