Killer Instinct (3 page)

Chapter
Five

TWO MORNINGS LATER I’M IN
the kitchen, and the Weasel is all over the news. Just the thought of tasering him and helping that woman fills me with a craving to do it all over again.

Yes, he’s all over the news, as is the Masked Savior.

Masked Savior?
You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Ugh, that’s awful,” my sister groans. “That man raping those women. God, Lane, why are you watching that? Turn the channel.”

I give my sister a look. What’s the big deal? It’s just the news.

Daisy rolls her eyes. “Don’t you feel
anything
?”

I grab the remote and turn the channel. I’m not as unfeeling as people think. I show sympathy where it’s warranted. I show hatred to those who deserve it. I just don’t have emotions over the usual things, and to me that has its advantages. Why am I the only one who appreciates this?

“And while we’re on the subject of emotions, would it kill you to laugh? In fact, I don’t think I have
ever
heard you laugh.”

I suppose I
should
try laughing sometime . . .

“And talking. Sometimes you’re so quiet it’s creepy.”

. . . and talking, too. Both are very normal things. And with so many abnormal thoughts, I suppose it would behoove me to try “normal” more often. But what does that mean exactly—like Daisy and half the other teens at my school? No, “normal” is subjective, not objective. After all, I’m normal in
my
private world.

“What’s creepy?” Victor says, swinging into the kitchen.

“Lane is. I told her she needs to laugh and talk more.”

He pinches my cheek. “Don’t listen to Daisy. You’re fine just the way you are.”

“Thanks.”

Daisy gives a dramatic sigh. “Whatever.”

“Whatever,” he mimics, and Daisy giggles.

I used to make her giggle like that by arranging licorice into a hangman’s noose. Sometimes I wonder if she remembers that.

Mom comes in behind me and grabs her mug of dark roast. “Did you all hear about the Masked Savior?” She laughs. “Nothing like a good vigilante.”

Victor delivers a one-armed hug to me and a smooch to Mom, then rounds the island to Daisy. She willingly accepts his good-bye kiss.

Although Mom’s never said so, I know it bothers her.

Mom pulls bacon from the fridge, as she does every weekend, and starts frying it up. Its deliciousness immediately fills the air. Mom has this way of cooking bacon, slow and on low heat. It takes forever but is so worth it.

As if on cue Justin shuffles downstairs. He pours himself a glass of chocolate milk and curls up on the couch to watch cartoons. “Did Dad already go golfing?”

“Just left.” Mom turns to me. “You working today?”

I nod. “I’ll head out after breakfast.” I work nearly every Saturday as a vet tech.

Daisy’s phone chimes with a text. She quickly checks it. “Mom, can I go to Samantha’s later? She’s having a few friends over to swim before her parents close the pool.”

“Gosh, I’m surprised they still have it open.” Mom glances at me. “Can you drop her on the way to work?”

This is the exact reason why I can’t wait for Daisy to get her driver’s license. “Sure.”

Breakfast comes and goes, and I drop Daisy at Samantha’s.
Few friends?
The place is packed with cars, and it’s barely eleven in the morning.

“Don’t tell Mom,” Daisy says as she hops out.

I won’t. I never do. Daisy’s choices will catch up with her sooner or later.

Another few miles down the road and I pull into Patch and Paw Animal Hospital. I head straight for the boarders and Corn Chip, a beagle-schnauzer mix. He’s here nearly every weekend. His mom travels a lot. Why have a pet if you’re never around to love him, you know? I’ve always wanted a dog at home, but Mom doesn’t like pets in the house. When I get my first place, I’m definitely getting a dog.

Corn Chip catches one look at me and does the whole-body-wiggle thing.

I love the little guy. He humanizes me. He is what makes me different from the profiles I obsess over. I have no urge to inflict pain on him or any other animal. Why would I? They’re innocent. They only want love and a good rub. I do, however, have urges to inflict pain on those people who hurt animals. Big time.

I open the cage and let him out, along with a few others I know get along. As if I’m the pack leader, they follow me out the side door into the fenced yard.

I grab a few balls and give them a toss, and all four dogs take off, yipping and scrambling for the prized possession.

“Thought I’d find you out here.”

Behind me stands Dr. Issa. At twenty-five he’s the youngest veterinarian on staff. I’ve known him the two years I’ve worked here and met him back when he served as an intern.

Whereas my brother’s smile tugs at my heart, Dr. Issa’s shy, intelligent one massages the entire cardiac muscle. Tall, dark hair, brown eyes. Almost all the girls here have a crush on him that he never seems to notice.

Corn Chip runs over to him, and Dr. Issa gives him a total-body rub. “Doing surgery later. Want to assist?”

“Definitely.” Dr. Issa always lets me assist in surgeries. I love watching the whole process. It’s fascinating.

He smiles. “We’ll scrub in at one.”

“Okay.”

“How’d your first few days at McLean High go?”

“Good.”

Dr. Issa gives the ball a toss and all the dogs take off. “My brother’s going there now. Maybe if you think of it, you can give him a hello?”

Welcoming new students is not really my thing, but this is Dr. Issa. “Is he a freshman?”

“No, junior. He used to go to a school in DC.”

“Name?”

“Daniel Issa. I gave him your name too.” He pauses. “I hope that’s okay?”

This is so much more up Daisy’s alley than mine, but again, this is Dr. Issa, so I give a little. “Sure. It’s okay.”

Later, during lunch, when I know everyone’s either out of the building or in the break room, I grab the unused stolen tranquilizer from my Wrangler and head to the storage closet. I slip it back onto the shelf in line with the other vials.

The door opens and Dr. Issa steps in. “Oh, hi, didn’t know you were in here.” He glances to the tranquilizer section. “What are you doing?”

Putting stolen sedative back. Why do you ask?
I grab the Acepromazine that I just put up, turn to him, and give a standard lie. “Doing a research project for school.”

Dr. Issa takes it from my hand and puts it back on the shelf. “Careful. You really shouldn’t be handling that without gloves.”

I ignore how close he suddenly is to me and focus on the conversation. “Good for horses. Phenothiazine derivative. Causes profound lethargy followed by immobility. Potential for cardiac effects. If given intravenously will take effect within fifteen minutes.”

Dr. Issa’s dark brows lift. “I don’t know why I’m constantly surprised by your intellect.”

It doesn’t take a genius to research on the Internet. And it doesn’t take a genius to know I can’t use Acepromazine now. After this conversation, the sedative is officially connected to me.

“So what questions do you have, then?” he prompts.

I want to ask him what he knows about etorphine but don’t want that traced to me too. “None, I guess.”

I’ll wander back in here later and see if there’s any on the shelves. However, since it’s an elephant tranquilizer, I highly doubt there will be.

That’ll be a black-market purchase.

Of course I have no clue how one goes about accessing the black market. I’m sure Reggie would know. Or could find out. The problem with that, though, entails letting Reggie into more of my life than I think either one of us is ready for. Reggie loves me like sisters should love each other, but sometimes I wonder if I reveal my true thoughts, I’ll draw a line neither one of us is ready to cross.

Plus . . . I’m not entirely sure I want to kill my next victim. I’m glad I didn’t kill the Weasel now. I’m glad I only made him suffer. Killing is so definitive. Years in jail leads to a more long-term type of justice.

But even though I’m not entirely sure I want to kill my next victim, I am entirely sure I
want
a next victim. Because the power it gives me, righting a wrong, the fright in the Weasel’s eyes, the scared relief in the woman’s . . . I think I’ve found my reason in this life.

Chapter
Six

THE NEXT DAY IS SUNDAY,
and Mom gets called in on an emergency I’m sure involves a serial killer.

“If I’m not going to be back by dinner, I’ll call,” she says, and rushes out.

I eye her soft leather carryall that she never locks. I’ve looked through it many times. I’ve read reports, studied pictures, copied notes on some of the more interesting cases. Mom has no clue I do it. I can’t help it. Daisy likes to watch reality TV in her spare time, and I like to dig through Mom’s briefcase. It’s who I am.

“Will you put some of that horseradish mustard on it?” Justin asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Sure.” I go back to his turkey-and-sprouts sandwich. I know, what eight-year-old likes turkey and sprouts, right?

He and I both have aikido class today—something our parents made all three of us take, but only he and I continue.

I like aikido because even though I’m skinny, I’ve learned to blend and redirect the motions of an attacker.

I can easily control and take down a two-hundred-pound opponent and have done so (in class) on many occasions. The Weasel was my first practice in the real world. Although he’d been short and pudgy, I’d say he was at least one hundred eighty pounds—a challenger for sure.

Daisy flings open the front door. “Zach, this is Lane and Justin.”

In walks a guy I assume goes to our high school.

“Zach’s new,” Daisy announces. “He’s a junior.”

Zach nods. “Hi.”

Daisy tugs him along. “We’re going to my room.”

Zach looks unsure about this as she pulls him up the stairs.

“That’s not allowed,” Justin reminds her.

“Whatever,” she yells back.

“You going to tell Mom and Dad?” he asks me.

I shake my head.

“Mind if I do?”

“Knock yourself out, kid.”

My sister’s a slut. It’s common knowledge she’s already had sex several times, and according to gossip she gives okay hand jobs but is excellent at fellatio.

I walked in on her having sex last year. She didn’t miss a beat as she kept riding the guy and glanced over to me in the doorway.

She’ll end up pregnant. Watch. Or with an STD. Sometimes I wonder whatever happened to the little sister I carried two blocks home after she wrecked on her new bike. Of course I found out Terrence, the kid three streets over, made her wreck, and I went back and took care of him later, but I digress. Let’s just say Terrence never messed with my sister again.

Zach comes back down the stairs and straight into the kitchen, surprising both me and my brother. “Saw the sandwiches. Mind if I make one?”

My brother and I exchange a glance.

I slide the fixings over and Zach helps himself.

“So,” he begins, spreading mayo on one slice of wheat bread. “I’ve seen you around school. You’re in the GT program?”

I nod.

He puts cheese on top of the mayo and then two slices of tomato. “You work at Patch and Paw, right?”

I take a bite of my sandwich. “Yes.”

“Mike’s my older brother.”

“Dr. Issa?” Just saying his name flutters my insides a little.

Zach puts cucumber on top of the tomato, avoids the turkey and sprouts, and takes a huge bite. “Mm.”

“He said your name is Daniel.”

Zach shoots me a slightly surprised look. “He told you about me?”

“He wanted me to be your friend.”

Zach laughs. “That sounds like Mike. Daniel’s my first name. Mostly just my family calls me that.”

My brother plucks a stray scrap of turkey from his plate and pops it into his mouth. “You a vegetarian?”

Zach nods.

Out of the corner of my eye I give him a solid look. Yes, I can now see the resemblance to Dr. Issa. Dark hair, dark, intelligent eyes, same boyish face.

Zach smiles, and I really see it then.

Daisy stomps down the stairs. “I thought you said you’d only be a second.”

Zach lifts his sandwich. “Got hungry.”

Justin laughs.

Daisy heaves a pouty sigh and heads back to her room.

I think I might like this Zach guy.

He turns to me. “My brother says you’re really smart.”

I’ve been in GT as long as I can remember. School comes easy for me. “I do okay.”

Zach shoves another bite in. “Where you going to college?”

“UVA, hopefully.”

“Medicine?” Zach whistles.

“Biology.”

“Mike went to Hopkins.”

“I know.”

He finishes off his sandwich and tosses his napkin into the garbage. “Later. Nice to meet you both.”

He lets himself out the front door, and Justin looks at me. “That was weird.”

Yes it was. Most guys Daisy brings home disappear into her room and don’t socialize with me and Justin. It’s almost like Zach came over
to
socialize with me and Justin.

Daisy stomps back down. She’s changed clothes to a skimpy tank and too-short mini. “Where’s Zach?”

“He left!” Justin brightly informs her.

“He what?!” She turns on me. “What’d you say to him?”

“Nothing.”
Why does she always assume I’ve done something?

Daisy races out the front door. “Zach!”

“I like Zach,” Justin tells me.

“Me too.” His leaving will probably make Daisy want him even more.

I glance at the kitchen clock. “Let’s get our
hakamas
on. I don’t want to be late for aikido.”

Fifteen minutes later we’re heading out to the Wrangler, and Mom pulls in. “Heading to class?”

“You’re back earlier than you thought,” I observe.

She holds up her soft briefcase. “Brought the work home.”

My brother rats out our sister. “Daisy had a boy in her room.”

Mom sighs. “I’ll handle it.” She trudges toward the house, and I glance down at the briefcase, looking very puffy compared to when she left. Its lock is uncharacteristically pressed in. Luckily, I know where she keeps the key.

I’d rather skip aikido and rifle through her briefcase. And that’s saying something because aikido has got to be about the best thing ever.

But I’ll have to open the case tonight after everyone’s gone to bed.