Count to Ten Read Online Free PDF Page A

second bomb became symbolic, but ultimately not a viable part of his plan.
    He’d realized as he stood ready to light its fuse that by the time he ran downstairs and lit the fuse for the kitchen egg that the upstairs one would already have blown. That blast might have set off the gas before he was out of the house, trapping him inside. So he’d left it there, hoping it would blow when the fire spread. Judging from the way the fire had burned through the roof of the house, he believed that had happened. But had it not, the police may have found it and learned more than he wanted them to.
    So even though the concept of two bombs was sweet, lighting them simultaneously was impractical, the risk too great. From now on, he’d stick with one. Everything else about the explosion itself had been a textbook success. Everything had gone just as he’d planned. Well, not entirely.
    Which brought him to the second point. The girl. His smile widened to a grin, wicked and... powerful. Just thinking about her made his body tighten.
    When she begged, when she tried to fight, something inside him had snapped and he’d used her. Completely. -Savagely. Until she lay on the floor quivering, unable to say a word.
That’s the way it should be. The way they all should be. Quiet.
If not voluntarily, then by force. His grin faded. But he’d used her without a condom, which was incredibly stupid. He hadn’t considered it then, he’d been too wrapped up in the moment. Once again, he’d been lucky. The fire would take care of any evidence. At least he’d had the presence of mind to douse her with gasoline before he ran. She’d be destroyed, along with anything of his own he’d left behind when he’d run.
    Which left point three. His escape. He hadn’t been seen running to his own car. Lucky, lucky. Next time he couldn’t count on that kind of luck. He’d have to come up with a better means of escape. One that, even were he spotted, would do the police no good. He smiled. He knew just what to do there.
    He considered his plan. It was good. But, he had to admit, it was the sex that had made the evening complete. He’d killed before. He’d taken sex before. But now, having experienced murder and sex together, he couldn’t imagine one without the other.
    It should come as no surprise, really. It was, he supposed, his one... weakness. And perhaps his greatest strength. Of all the weapons he’d ever wielded, sex was the finest. The most basic.
    Of all the ways to put a woman in her place, it was the very best. Young, old... it didn’t really matter. The enjoyment, the release, was in the taking—and knowing they would never go a day without remembering that they were weak. And he was strong.
    His biggest problem was that he’d let them live. It was almost what had gotten him caught before. It was almost what had earned him a punishment far greater than he’d experienced in the laughable juvenile detention system. He’d learned from that, too, as evidenced by Caitlin Burnette. If one planned to rape a woman, make sure she didn’t live to tell the tale.
    But he had to be completely honest. Technically, the night had gone off much better than he’d dared hope. Realistically, he’d failed. He’d missed his target. In the light of day, the fire, even taking Caitlin, paled. This couldn’t be about fire. The fire could only be the tool. This was about payment. Retribution. Old lady Dougherty had escaped her fate. She was out of town. For Thanksgiving. He’d gotten that much from the girl. But she’d come back and when she did, he’d be waiting.
    Until then, he had more to do. Miss Penny Hill was next on his mental list of offenders. She and old lady Dougherty had been thick as thieves. Penny Hill had believed Dougherty’s lies.
So did I, in the beginning.
In the beginning, Dougherty had promised them safety. His lips twisted.
Hope.
But in the end she’d turned, accusing them of things they hadn’t done. Her promise of safety was