And while the city was short on open space where he could work in relative privacy, it did have reconstruction projects. The waterfront was going through a big change with many of the piers under redevelopment. It amazed him how many of these sites went unsecured at night, with no security patrol and often no more than a chain-link fence and lights for protection. But these people forgot one thing—access from the water. It wasn’t hard for him to drift in on a skiff and work in relative quiet. This was why he’d chosen Pier 25 as his new workplace. It was intended to be an arts and entertainment center after the America’s Cup tournament. He got a thrill out of handing down his punishment in this place, knowing full well that dozens of construction workers would be literally covering his tracks and destroying the crime scene the following morning.
He pressed a gloved hand to Laurie’s chest and tugged the knife free with the other. Little blood escaped from the wound, courtesy of her dead heart, but what there was dripped onto the plastic sheeting he’d placed over his work area. He bagged and double bagged the knife in Ziplocs and placed it in his backpack. He crouched before the whip on the tarp. In its half-coiled state, in the dim light, it looked like a dead snake. He liked its unassuming nature. It was little more than a length of braided leather, but it possessed the power to devastate the human body. Just ten lashes wrecked most people. It was an elegant device. He picked the whip up, carefully coiled it, and placed it inside another bag. There was no disposing of this. He would clean it and ensure it was ready for the next offender.
Other than the plastic sheeting and the cuffs, the whip and knife were all the equipment he required. He liked the efficient setup. It was uncluttered. Clean. Simple. It was the way he lived his life, and the way others should live theirs. He believed you should go through life causing other people as little inconvenience as possible. Sadly, that wasn’t the attitude these days. The world needed a mirror held up to itself to teach it a lesson. Laurie Hernandez was that mirror.
It was time to take her down, wrap her up in plastic, and send her to her final resting place. He had her raised up on a simple block-and-tackle rig he’d found at the job site. He shined a light across Laurie Hernandez’s back and buttocks. The whip had done its job. Each lash was an open wound. Skin gone. Flesh exposed. Nerve endings raw. He was impressed with his handiwork. He’d gotten good coverage with little overlap. Impressive considering he’d flogged her more than forty times.
He’d always tried to be precise with the lashings, ensuring each one connected with virgin skin. Once the whip did its damage, there was no advantage of retreading on torn-up real estate. After forty strikes, there was little chance of finding untouched flesh.
A sudden noise from the entrance of the construction site caught his attention. It was the slap of a footfall on concrete. It bounced off the skeletal steel structure. A laugh followed. More footfalls.
People. Was it someone returning to work? Was it security? Had he misjudged the place? No. He’d watched this site for two weeks before selecting it. He caught a glimpse of movement in the distance. It was a couple kids, hoodies covering their heads. Beck dropped to a crouch behind a steel column.
His heart galloped in his chest. It didn’t matter who his intruders were. He couldn’t be found. He had to go.
He looked up at Laurie Hernandez. There was no time to take her with him. He’d have to leave her. He snatched up his backpack, which had the knife and all her possessions in it, and slung it over his shoulder. He didn’t run. He slipped into the shadows and cut a path back to his skiff. His movements were silent and precise as he clambered down the cat ladder to the dock and untied his bow rope. It made the noises of his gate-crashers all the easier to hear. They were screwing around—looking for mischief and not finding it. Their plans would change when they discovered Laurie Hernandez. It would be a tough lesson for them as well as for him. Some nights didn’t go your way.
Zo? had the cab drive her over to Russian Hill. The neighborhood was awash with restaurants and bars. She went stag because friends were another casualty of the event. None of them treated her the same. Some blamed her for leaving Holli behind. It wasn’t that she disagreed with them, but she would have liked to know how they would have handled the situation. Others felt the need to treat her as though she possessed a terminal disease. No, it was better to seek the company of strangers. That way, she came without baggage and left without attachments.
She walked into Ferdinand’s. It was one of a dozen bars and restaurants she hit on a regular basis in the area. It had an upscale restaurant that served a professional clientele. Certainly not the kind of place for a mall cop making minimum wage, but she was an attractive, young woman. If she made a “friend” fast, she never had to pay for more than one drink or her meal.
The place was packed shoulder to shoulder, which was busy for a Tuesday night. She squeezed her way to the bar and ordered a cosmo, then grabbed a barstool when one opened up.
It didn’t take long for someone to fill the empty seat next to her. She put him in his early thirties. He wasn’t bad looking, but he let the expensive suit elevate his importance. He’d tugged his tie to one side in some manufactured attempt to prove he worked hard, but just one glance at his manicured hands said that perfecting his appearance was the closest he came to manual labor.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked.