Serial Uncut - J. A. Konrath [22]
Taylor bunched his fists, then forced himself to relax. Had this guy seen him somehow? Did he know about Candi in the sleeper?
No. He couldn’t have. Tinted windows on his cab. No windows at all in the sleeping compartment.
He took a casual glance around, trying to spot anyone else watching. No one seemed to be paying either of them any attention.
Taylor dropped his hand, slowly reaching for the folding knife clipped to his belt. He considered sliding it between this guy’s ribs right there and getting the hell out. But first Taylor needed to know what Grandpa knew. Maybe he could lead him to the bathroom, get him into a stall…
Taylor froze. His knife was missing.
“Take it easy, my friend,” said the old, fat man. “I’ll give you your knife back when we’re through.”
Taylor wasn’t sure what to say, but he believed everyone had an angle. This guy knew more than he should have. But what was he going to do with his information?
“Who are you?” Taylor asked.
“Name’s Donaldson. And you probably meant to ask What are you? You’ve probably figured out I’m not a cop, not a Fed. Thanks, Donna.” He nodded at the waitress as she refilled his coffee. “Actually, I’m just a fellow traveler. Enjoying the country. The sites. The people.” Donaldson winked at him. “Same as you are.”
“Same as me, huh?”
Donaldson nodded. “A bit older and wiser, perhaps. At least wise enough to not use that awful ether anymore. Where do you even get that these days? I thought ether and chloroform were controlled substances.”
“Starter fluid,” Taylor said. This conversation was getting surreal.
“Clever.”
“So what is it exactly you do, Donaldson?”
“For work? Or do you mean with the people I encounter? I’m a courier, that’s my job. I travel all around, delivering things to people who need them faster than overnight. As for the other—well, that’s sort of personal, don’t you think? We just met, and you want me to reveal intimate details of my antisocial activities? Shouldn’t we work up to that?”
So far, Donaldson had been the embodiment of calm. He didn’t seem threatening in the least. They might have been talking about sports.
“And you spotted me because of the blood and the ether smell?”
“Initially. But the give-away was the look in your eyes.”
“And what sort of look do my eyes have, Donaldson?”
“This one.” Donaldson turned and looked at Taylor. “The eyes of a predator. No pity. No remorse. No humanity.”
Taylor stared hard, then grinned. “I don’t see anything but regular old eyes.”
Donaldson held the intense gaze a moment longer, then chuckled. “Okay. You caught me. The eyes don’t tell anything. But I caught you casing the place before you walked in. Looking for cops, for trouble, for exits. A man that careful should have noticed some spots of blood on his shirt.”
“Maybe I cut myself shaving.”
“And the ether smell?”
“Maybe the rig was giving me some trouble, so I cleaned out the carburetor.”
“No grease or oil under your nails. Just dried blood.”
Taylor leaned in close, speaking just above a whisper.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you, Donaldson.”
“Other than the fact I have your knife? Because you should consider this a golden opportunity, my friend. You and I, we’re solitary creatures. We don’t ever talk about our secret lives. We never share stories of our exploits with anyone. I’ve been doing this for over thirty years, and I’ve only met one other person like us. I’ve run across a few wannabes. More than a few crazies. But never another hunter. Like we are. Don’t you think this is a unique chance?”
The meatloaf came, steaming hot. But Taylor wasn’t hungry anymore. He was intrigued. If Donaldson was what he claimed to be, the fat man was one hundred percent correct. Taylor had never talked about his lifestyle with anyone, other than his victims. And then, it was only to terrify them even more.
Sometimes, Taylor had fantasies of getting caught. Not because he harbored any guilt, and not because he wanted to be locked up. But because