NOBODY
KNOWS: Chapter 3
The freshly shaven face peered back at him in the makeup
mirror. It was important to start with a clean, dry face.
He dipped his finger into the white grease-based makeup
and began to smooth it around his eyes and mouth, careful
to use only a little bit. Too much would look heavy.
Once the round shapes were applied, he used his fingertips
to pat, helping the makeup get into the pores and smoothing
out the streaks. Next he took a Q-tip and swirled it
in his mouth to moisten it. The saliva-sharpened tip
outlined the white painted area, making it more distinct.
Picking up an old tube sock filled with the baby powder
he had taken from Maggie Lynch's bathroom, he shook it
over the area he had made up and applied the sock to
his face to press in the precious dust. He sat back and
contemplated his reflection as he waited a minute for
the powder to sit. Then he took a brush and flicked off
the excess. Next, he applied the flesh-colored makeup
to the rest of his face, except the area around his nose
where the red would go. He repeated the routine of patting
with his fingertips and powdering, followed by drawing
black lines around his eyes.
He picked up a theatrical makeup pencil and colored in
a red, down-turned mouth and filled in a red circle over
the tip of his nose. He didn't have time this morning
to bother with the prosthetic nose. He picked up the
spray bottle from the dressing table and misted his face.
Some blue around the eyes to make the clown's face look
scarier and a mascara wand to his eyelashes and the work
was done.
He turned his head from side to side and admired himself
in the mirror. What would his mother say if she could
see him now? Something mean and screeching, to be sure.
The harridan.
He ached to get out there again and find someone, see
the expression on a young woman's face as she looked
up at him. But for now he had to gratify himself with
the makeup alone. He knew the FBI was still looking for
him, and it worried him. How could he have known that
the pretty coed he followed home from the Mardi Gras
parade was the daughter of the FBI's director? How could
he have known that he would end up all over the national
news?
"I won't harm you if you cooperate."
She had listened, her eyes bright. She didn't know that
he didn't really plan on using the knife. But the knife
worked well. Women were terrified at the prospect of
disfigurement. "Tell me that you love me."
She had put up no struggle. As she lay there, his pleasure
increased. Maybe she did love him, maybe she enjoyed
it. Just like the girl in Miami and the last one in Louisville.
He didn't want to be caught and was fighting hard to
hold back. He was using all his willpower to keep himself
from finding another woman.
Merilee and what happened on the boat didn't count. That
was different.
Return to Chapter 2
Return
to Chapter 1
Return
to Prologue start
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