CHAPTER 1

I couldn't wait to get out the city. As a matter of fact it is the first vacation I have had in years. I am just going to relax on the beach by myself. Living in Chicago, one apartment on top of the other makes you long for a little elbow room and some peace and quiet. That's why I plan on going to Ocracoke Island in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I have heard that it's quiet, undeveloped and not touristy at all. I have covered some major stories for the paper in the last four years. I have covered politics, mob hits, striking sanitation workers to name a few of my most recent articles. I work for a paper called the Sentinel. The paper is one of the largest in Chicago. It is also one of the most forward thinking papers I have ever been around. I do a lot of Internet posting, blogging and the like. It has increased circulation, but for me it's like doing two jobs and I am overdue for a long relaxing vacation. I was looking forward not only to my time on the isolated beaches of the Outer Banks, but also to spending some time with my friend Michelle.

What better time to catch up than during a long drive. I had rented a house on the beach. It looked beautiful. It is right next to a lighthouse and the beach looked very natural with long patches of sea oats that you always see in the brochures. Michelle and I had been friends in high school and recently rediscovered each other through social media. I guess that we are both in the same boat. Both of us are late 20s and unmarried. I have had a few boyfriends over the years since high school, some serious and some casual. I assume it had been same way for Michelle. In high school, she was what people called an ugly duckling. She seemed tall and awkward with bad hair. She was athletic, playing both basketball and volleyball. Maybe that's why her hair was bad because she was always sweating. Looking back, we must have been quite a twosome, both of us skinny, with glasses and polite manners. Even though Michelle was a jock and I was not, we were both geeks. I could count on seeing her every day at school in my honors classes.

Something that I am embarrassed about and I'm sure she is too, neither of us had ever been on a vacation without our families. That was a main topic of conversation for about the first 300 miles. We spent time laughing at what dorks we were in high school. While some of our classmates were spending time at Daytona Beach, or San Padre Island over spring break the two of us were going to English camp or some other bullshit like that. I guess it paid off in the long run. I have received numerous awards for my article and Michelle is a successful ad executive earning not only a lot of money but her share of Clio awards. We wanted this trip to be special as I believe we have both earned it. That's why I rented a convertible for the trip, to really live it up. I looked in the rear view mirror and for the first time since I broke up with Alex I felt good about myself and why shouldn't I. Michelle's blonde hair was whipping around her dark sunglasses and my brown hair was doing the same, we actually look like a couple of movie stars as we paid the last toll on the West Virginia Turnpike. I guess that Michelle was not the only "ugly duckling." I had been referred to that many times during my youth and I hated it. Michelle grew out of her awkward phase to become a beautiful leggy blonde. I'm sure she has had a little help from her hairdresser with the color but she looks great. I am nowhere near 5 foot 10 inches like my friend Shelley, but I have recently lost a little weight and have been told by men that I look great. I have always considered myself to be more cute than pretty. If we wanted to meet men on this trip we would not be going to this type secluded beach area. Our plan is to relax and recharge with some trashy romance novels and get some of that southern sun that eludes us for all but one month a year in Chicago.

"So Stacy, how did you break it off with Alex," Shelley asked?

"Wow, have you been holding that in the entire trip?"

"Sort of, yeah. I knew when I broke up with Calvin that I cried for days. Was it the same for you?"

"First of all Calvin was a hell of a lot better looking than Alex. It was weird, the last time we were together I just didn't feel it anymore."

"You mean the earth didn't move, so you dumped him?"

"No," I laughed, "he would come over after work and if I wasn't there to serve him, he would be all pissed off. We would get into a fight, well an argument that elevated to a fight within five minutes of walking through the door. I mean it's great that he works construction and is finished by 3 o'clock, but I don't. My hours depend on what's making news and when a news-maker is available, not when some horn sounds. I have to be flexible to succeed at my job. Not just lay a straight edge over a bunch of concrete."

Shelley sat quietly for a moment and then asked, "Did you say that?"

"I don't know, probably. I can't remember we have had this argument so many times, I'm sure I did once. It doesn't matter anyhow I was just with everything he was saying. You know, I just got sick of it."

"Did you really think that Calvin was better looking, Stacy? I don't know, Alex had all those muscles and was so tan from working outside and you two looked so cute together."

That was about all the ex-boyfriend talk for me so I decided to turn the tables on my friend.

"Wait a minute, you and Calvin made a great couple. You're both tall and slender. What happened?"

Shelley made a disgusted face and wrinkled her nose. She shrugged her shoulders and answered, "He was gay."

I almost drove the Oldsmobile convertible into the ditch with surprise. I lifted my sunglasses and raised my eyebrows at my friend.

"Really," I managed to spit out, "did he tell you or worse did you catch him?"

"It was kind of a shock to me. Whatever ... that is what this trip is about. Oh men!!"

We continued talking girl talk all the way across the state of North Carolina. It felt longer than it looked on the map, but I made the best of the scenery. The broad leaf tobacco fields were impressive and something we don't see back home. I was surprised at how poor the area looked. However there was always a large, Southern mansion that set back from the road, usually hidden by a large willow tree.

"Do you think that is where the slaves lived?"

"If so that would have been awful. Having that big mansion in the background, you and your family are doing the work and then you come home to a cement block home with a dirt floor, while they sit on the porch drinking lemonade. It would be enough to really make you hate."

I certainly agreed with Shelley but I really didn't want to get into a full-blown discussion about race relations in America. I have witnessed prejudices of all kind in my reporting work, black/white, yellow/red yellow/white, hate is not colorblind for any culture. I should know not only because of my work, but because my cousin was briefly married to a black man and my uncle was outraged to say the least. I never understood why. I mean, she met the man on the college debate team. He was the most polite man she had ever brought around. He was from a good family, with a nice upbringing and they spoiled it for her by righting this guy until they broke up.

"What are you thinking about Stacy?"

I was thinking about a lot of things. I wondered why people were the way they are. I wondered where the hatred came from and if it could ever be eliminated, but I didn't want to share that with Shelley.

"Nothing," I answered blindly. "Do you mind if we stop, I could use some fuel and use the bathroom."

"Not at all Stacy, I should get out and stretch anyhow."

The place that we stopped had everything. Most of it you didn't need, but when I went in to pay I looked around. This place had the emergency things like a flashlight and flat tire repair kit as well what looked like homemade quilts or blankets. They also had everything the hungry traveler would like as far as snacks, mints, gum and candy. I picked up one of those touristy books and a newspaper and a book about local sites. I only scanned the front page briefly before Shelley busted me.

"What are you doing? You are supposed to be on vacation."

"I know, I know I won't get carried away I promise. I just wanted to see what was going on. We left in such a rush this morning from our hotel, I didn't get to watch the news."

The clerk was as friendly as could be, but had a strange look about him. It is entirely possible that it was his clothing that made him stand out. Here it was the middle of July, we have been driving with the top down all day, sun was shining brightly overhead, and it was warm but this guy was wearing jeans, a flannel shirt, and one of those truck driver down vests along with a baseball cap.

"He has to be roasting" I thought to myself.

Then he spoke and it was obvious that something else was going on in his brain.

"Y'all better be careful," he finally managed to get out.

Michelle came out of the restroom as the guy started speaking and was by my side 20 feet from the restroom before the man finished his statement. I knew that people in the South talked slower than us Yankees, but this was borderline ridiculous. As always Shelley started the conversation the stranger.

"What are you talking about, guy?"

"P–p–pretty girls like you would be a nice target."

"Target for whom," I asked.

The clerk moved some of the items that were on top of my newspaper and pointed to the main headline and said, "Him."

I was barely able to read the headline around his long fingers, but the picture was a different story. There was a mug shot of a guy in his mid-30s with a shaved head and a goatee who looked like real trouble. He reminded me of one of those ultimate fighters, very stocky and put together and very scary looking. I thanked the clerk and proceeded towards the car. When I got there Shelley was doing a stretch for her back and hamstrings. Whatever this exercise was for it had her bent over in the parking lot, sticking out her backside for everyone to see. She had on a pair of skintight running pants and even though I am not that way, I still looked.

"I got us some bubblegum and beefjerky. Would you rather drive or read?"

"I would prefer to read, what's up?"

"That's what I would like to find out. Something around here has everyone on edge. You should have heard the cashier stuttering. But then again he might have just been looking out here at you. I mean I am impressed that you put your chin completely on your knees while standing, but do you think right here is the best spot for that? You are going to cause one of those truckers to wreck. Haven't you heard the horns going off?"

She can play little miss innocent with me all she wants, but I know she is loving it and who wouldn't. Especially when you have been looked over for years by the opposite sex.

We tore out of the store's parking lot with a wave in the air for any of the truckers. We giggled to each other and I really don't know why. I guess that we were having fun and that's something I haven't had a lot of in the last year. It seems to me that all I was doing was working and that's because I didn't want to spend any time with my boyfriend. It has just gotten so bad that I didn't want to deal with it. It was just easier to work longer hours and not deal with a relationship that I considered over long before it was.

"You have got to just focus on the vacation," I decided.

I laughed to myself as Shelley struggled with the newspaper in the convertible. I can tell that she has not spent a lot of time with a newspaper in her hands. We got maybe 10 miles up the road and she finally turned me for assistance.

"Okay, this is stupid, no wonder people don't read the paper anymore, this damn thing is impossible."

I expertly showed her how to fold it properly and scan through an article to get the gist of it.

"Oh my," she exclaimed, sucking in her breath. "We certainly picked the wrong place at the wrong time to relax. Listen to this."

CHAPTER 2

Shelley was reading the headline story for me as I noticed the sign that we were finally in the Outer Banks. It seems like the drive took forever. We stopped along the way at a fruit stand, as well as a souvenir shop, and added in the stops for restroom visits plus an overnight, it was a long journey! But we were here now. I could smell the air and feel the warm ocean breeze on my face. It appears from looking around that it has been hot and dry around here for a while.

"Great," I thought. "I need some sunshine and relaxation. I hope this place can deliver."

I guess that I was being a little rude. Shelley had been reading to me but since I was a little tired I obviously was daydreaming. I snapped out of it when she called my name.

"Stacy, would you ever write something like this?"

"What? I could not hear you over the truck passing," I lied. I was not listening at all.

"There is some sort of rapist terrorizing the East Coast and they are giving details of his sexual exploits that I think are out of bounds for print."

"Like what for example?" I asked.

"He has victims as far north as Ocean City, New Jersey, and they are blaming him for an abduction at Myrtle Beach. I guess he wears a strange mask, puts the women into multiple positions, ties them up and has forcible sex with them and then still has the energy to masturbate sometimes. Those poor women. Not only does he shame them by making them cleanup his mess either tearing the sheets off the bed or cleaning up the floor naked while he watches."

"Does he kill the people?"

"He has started to, Stacy, probably because they had a good description now. Do you remember the movie, Clockwork Orange? Well, that is the style of mask he has been wearing, you know with the long nose. I bet that's what he uses when he can't get it up."

"That does not seem to be his problem. Does it say how many girls?"

I heard her flipping the paper around and it was crackling in the wind until she put it on her lap.

"They say right now the number approaches 25, but there may be more."

"That is a good bit of detail," I noticed, "they must be moving in."

"Why do you think that?" Shelley asked.

"Because you don't release those kind of details unless you are closing in. It would be irresponsible as far as the victims go. Even the ones he did not kill would be scared that he would track them down."

Trying to make a joke Shelley giggled to herself and under her breath whispered, "I don't think that the dead one are concerned either."

"You said that out loud," I pointed out, which we have done to each other for years. It was kind of our way of telling each other that our comments were not very appropriate. It helped from getting into any petty arguments over the years.

"Well, what is the standard protocol for releasing information?"

"It keeps changing," I answered. "It used to be one thing, but now with all the social media the boundaries of civility and kindness keep changing. It's hard to know where to stop. I don't think it makes any sense to give those details out to the public, but some people do. I wouldn't. I mean you have to keep some details private so you know you have the right guy when you catch him."

"People are freaking out Stacy, almost as much as a shark attack. Some reports have him going to the Outer Banks."

"Sure they do. I'm guessing he will be sighted more frequently than Elvis. That's why I would never put details like that in the paper. All it does is scare people."

Even though the place that we are renting is on an island, its the most confusing set of roads I had seen in a while. The roads spread out like spokes from a single tire but that was not the big issue. I'm from Chicago, where signage might be there or it might not. The problem on this island is that all the roads are named very similar to each other. For example our place is on Lookout Point. Well there is Lookout Boulevard, Lookout Lane, Lookout Street, and even Lookout Court. I needed Shelley to examine the map and find out exactly where our place is. I asked her to put down the paper and help. She did and we wound around through the maze of vacation homes. They were all well-kept with the lawns neatly manicured and a fresh coat of paint. They did not seem weathered at all, but apparently they get some nasty weather, because every home was on tall stilts for protection. I was speechless initially for some reason. I really don't know why because I had figured on seeing places like this. It was in the brochure, but they were much taller than I had anticipated. We continued to act like tourists, taking note of each home as we drove by.