He tailed her down Fillmore, lagging only a half block behind her as he watched her cut her way through the world. Her self-absorption always allowed him to stick close without any fear of being spotted.
He’d started these surveillance missions after her second visit to the shelter. The first time, he’d put her behavior down to that of a mean-spirited person, but her return put her on his radar. This was a woman with contempt for the world and everyone who lived in it. That kind of behavior deserved to be punished.
His observations had unearthed a few interesting tidbits. Urban Paws wasn’t the only animal shelter she visited. She tormented the animals at most of the shelters around the city. On weekends, she liked to hit the clubs and steal from wallets and purses left out in the open, then get drunk on the take. She let any guy who showed her the slightest attention fuck her. She worked at one of those cheap jewelry boutiques in the Westfield Centre. His estimation of her was that she was a despicable human being who got her kicks from tormenting small animals and making people miserable. He wondered how she’d feel if someone tormented her. He’d made his decision. It was time for her to learn something about respect. He thumbed the knife in his pocket. It had been eight months since he’d left his mark on someone, and he would again tonight.
“See you later, Laurie,” he murmured to himself.
Other than a couple of kids making fools of themselves and someone trying to use a stolen credit card, Zo?’s shift at the mall was quiet. The downside of that was it gave her plenty of time to replay everything Jarocki had said during their session that morning. She knew he was challenging her, forcing her to examine her behavior and her mental mindset, but she didn’t like it. Jarocki made it sound so simple: event A resulted in behavior B, and if behavior B wasn’t modified, it would lead to result C. She wasn’t a machine. She was a person and far too complex to be pigeonholed, as Jarocki had pointed out.
Am I, though?
Completing her final walk through of the mall before she clocked out, she looked at her workplace with fresh eyes. Had she really chosen this place because it was the most dangerous mall in the Bay Area? Had she become a rent-a-cop just to put herself in harm’s way? Was it all done to punish herself? That theory made her sound so shallow and childish.
She didn’t buy Jarocki’s psychobabble. She had taken the mall-cop job for good reasons. People treated her differently when she returned to UC Davis after the abduction. A label had attached itself to her—victim. Everyone knew what had happened to her, and that event redefined her in their eyes. She had to get away from it. She could have switched schools, but she wanted to start over and do something as different from her PhD as she could get. Mall security was it. She had also found the job attractive because it didn’t require any qualifications or life commitment. She protected the mall one day at a time. When her shift ended, so did the work. You moved people on when they needed it, and if you caught someone stealing, you handed them off to the cops. No fuss, no muss, no strings. There was no mental conspiracy to harm herself. She believed the job was one that wouldn’t tax her, and truth be told, she liked the idea of punishing those who broke the rules. She knew what Jarocki would say to that.
She thought about Jarocki’s cop suggestion. He’d picked that up from her. They’d talked a few times about what she wanted to do with her life, and she’d mentioned law enforcement. She wanted to stop people like the man who’d abducted her and Holli. It wouldn’t make up for leaving Holli behind, but maybe she could prevent others from being victimized.
Could she really become a cop? It would take years. She didn’t have the time for that. She needed instant gratification. Also, she didn’t know how long her interest in it would last. Jarocki prattled on about PTSD being a passing phase. She could quite easily lose the desire to fight crime herself, so following the cop angle would be a total waste of time for everyone.
She smiled at the thought. She’d use that argument on Jarocki the next time he pulled that one from his psychologist’s arsenal.
She went into the staff locker room and changed out of her stiff, barely comfortable uniform. She clipped her pants onto a hanger. They managed to maintain their shape, whether she was wearing them or not. That was polyester for you.