Freud's Revenge by P. J. Adams

Author:P. J. Adams [Adams, P. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Psychological, Thriller
ISBN: 9780615477237
Google: smtaXwAACAAJ
Amazon: B005H2SUBM
Publisher: PJAdamsBooks
Published: 2011-07-17T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

A Fine Pair

Several hours before, the kid had stood in the shadows near the pool area for quite some time, waiting. Amanda’s condo complex had been quiet except for a young woman doing laps in the pool; the woman left about an hour after sunset, and the kid was alone again. He liked to watch, liked to see where Amanda went, what she did, how she lived. Amanda was off kilter now, the kid knew. Yeah, now you’re getting it. How it feels. How life sucks when people mess with you. Fun to watch you, though. Watch YOU deal. Watch you deal with the shit like the rest of us.

Trailing Amanda from downtown had been easy. She was cagey sure, but everybody knew where she lived so no prob. The kid had leaned on the wall in the shadows, watching as her lights finally went out. Then it was time. But something weird happened. That idiot arrived. He started climbing the trellis, and then leaped onto Amanda’s patio. “Fuck, this place is Grand Central,” the kid cursed. So the kid took charge; no one was going to horn in on his stakeout.

Raising the rifle, he took aim. But before he could get off a shot, the idiot threw something hard at the glass and the thing disintegrated. “Holy shit,” the kid mumbled as the stupid prick started running for the railing. That’s when he finally got the shot. It hit the wood, and splintered the piling. “Crap.” The kid squeezed again and connected. The prick grabbed his leg as he fell to the ground. The kid was about to pump a third round when the lights came on. The next second, the stupid jerk was dragging himself through the bushes.

OK, we’re done, the kid decided. He quickly slid the rifle into its case, hoisted it over his shoulder, and slipped out to the Nissan as confusion spread through the complex. The kid was just closing the trunk when a couple of drunk surfers staggered up the hill with their boards.

One of them bellowed: “Hey, you. Wan’ some company?” The creep staggered closer, his belching friend lagging.

“Fuck off, asshole,” the kid growled, slamming the trunk, feeling for the blade in his pocket, “or I’ll cut your dick off up to your armpits.”

“Wow…hostile…no need to get like that.” The drunk staggered closer, then abruptly puked into the bushes. His friend lurched up behind him and both of them fell into the bushes, laughing.

Disgusted, the kid got into the car. Engine revving, the Nissan eased down the hill. Turning south on PCH, the kid passed a couple of cop cars zooming up the hill, sirens blazing. They passed in a whoosh, taking no notice, and kid drove on, stopping carefully at each stop sign, heading up the hill to downtown, passing through town, unnoticed.

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