The Next Victim
Brooklyn, New York
Tom Jackson woke early, went for a two-mile run, then did his daily routine of push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups before settling down to a cup of coffee. He was reading the paper when Lisa came out of the shower. “I need eggs and toast,” he said, without looking up.
She pulled the towel tighter around herself. “Do you want bacon?”
“That goes without saying. And hurry up. I have places to go.”
“Where are you going? I thought I was going to work today.”
“You are, but that doesn’t mean I can’t go somewhere.” He sipped his coffee and turned the page on the newspaper. “Remember, if I suspect something I’ll kill you first, then Buster, and then I’ll let your mother rot.”
Lisa nodded. “I won’t say anything.”
“Good,” he said. “If you see me in the building,
